Page 7 of Between the Lines

This room is spacious. It’s a room with a private terrace, an upgrade from the standard room I’d booked. But it suddenly feels very small.

“In my defense,” I say, “it has been a very long day.”

His look turns wolfish. “I don’t think you need an excuse.”

I reach for my cards. “Not every place has… great water pressure.”

“I can imagine.” His eyes feel heavy on mine.

Heat rises through me under his gaze.

“It’s a shame I”—he shuffles through his cards before looking back at me—“interrupted you before you could finish.”

My fingers tighten around the cards. “It was a bit rude.”

“And unfair. As you pointed out earlier. I’ve seen so much of you, and you’ve seen nothing of me.”

“Not very sportsmanlike,” I say.

He shakes his head a little. “Not at all. Almost like we should up the ante a bit.”

“Winner still gets the room,” I say.

“Yes. Of course.” His fingers drum against the armrest, eyes on mine. “But let’s extend it a bit… best of nine rounds. Not five.”

I hide my smile. “Seems like you have nowhere else to be, either.”

“I do. I just need to win it first, like you.” He cocks his head. “Instead of questions… the loser of a round has to remove a piece of clothing.”

My heart stutters in my chest and then starts pounding. I cross a leg over the other and do my best to sound unbothered. “Sure. Why not?”

I’m wearing perfectly respectable underwear. I think. Black panties, right? Maybe gray. And the bra is one of my regulars.

It’ll have to do.

Both of our movements are faster now. It’s an unspoken thing. To speed it up.

He loses the next game. It’s harder to play smart the longer we keep drinking. And honestly, I’ve slipped more than a few times. He’s distracting. But I manage to come out on top this time again, and he curses softly when he reaches for his jacket.

“You’re good, Chaos.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

His lips curve into that half smile, and he shrugs out of the worn leather. He lets it fall to the floor behind him. He’s in a gray flannel shirt underneath, the two top buttons are undone. Tan skin and a hint of chest hair peek out from the open collar.

I slowly look down at my cards. He might be the most handsome man I’ve ever been with… if this night goes as planned.

We play in silence for a minute or two. Our game retains the same speed, our hands coordinated over the small coffee table.

Aiden looks at me as he waits for me to finish my turn. “Do you usually use a showerhead?”

I feel too hot. Too studied. But also like I’d die if he looks away. “No, it’s pretty rare. Sometimes my hands. Sometimes… my vibrator.”

“Do you have it with you?” His eyes have an almost predatory focus.

Everything I have and lived with in the last four months is in my two giant suitcases, and that includes the slim, black vibrator with a rounded tip. I know that’s what he wants to hear.

So I smile at him instead. “Why do you care?”

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