Page 64 of Light My Fire

Jackson chuckles. “Damn, girl, it’s almost like you’re trying to lose.”

I meet his gaze. “Yeah, kind of seems that way, doesn’t it?”

His smile dies a little as his gaze grows more intense. “Guess you have to ditch the bra or panties.”

“Guess so,” I agree.

Luke suddenly shoves back from the table. “I’m out.”

Wyatt and Jackson don’t seem surprised. “You sure?” Wyatt asks, though his eyes are on me. “Game’s not over.”

“I’m sure.” He grabs his bottle of beer and stomps over to the armchair that he’s claimed as his all weekend.

The open concept of the cabin means he’s still, basically, in the same room with us at the dining table and him in front of the fireplace and TV, but his back is to us now.

Interesting.

Jackson and Wyatt don’t spare him a glance.

“Come on,” Wyatt says to me. “Pay up.”

I reach under the table for my panties instead of my bra. They won’t be able to reallyseemy naked bottom half with the table in the way. Wyatt is just to my right but with the way I cross my legs, he won’t reallyseeanything. Not that he hasn’t already seeneverything.But Jackson is across the table. He’d have to duck under the table to get a look. I hold my panties up, then drop them on the floor next to my chair.

Both men’s gazes darken. Heat swirls in my belly.

“Your deal,” Jackson says to Wyatt.

“Um, you have to take something else off too,” I remind Wyatt.

He keeps his eyes on me as he stands and strips out of his sweats, leaving him in boxers. I let my gaze travel over him as he sinks back into his chair.

He starts dealing again and with only the three of us now, the hand goes a little quicker.

Again, I should fold.

But I don’t.

Wyatt folds, and Jackson turns over a pair of aces.

I fight my grin as I turn over my garbage hand.

Jackson leans in, forearms on the table. “Sweetheart, if you wanted to take your clothes off for us, you just had to say so. We didn’t have to go through all the dealing and betting, you know.”

“It’s just a little more fun this way, isn’t it?” I ask, reaching behind me for the clasp on my bra. “Builds the anticipation.”

The surge of feminine power that shoots through me, as I hearthreegroans in response, has me smiling like a Cheshire cat.

I unhook my bra and also drop it beside my chair.

I note how Wyatt runs a hand through his hair and absorb his muttered, “Jesus.”

But I can’t look away from Jackson, who’s hot gaze blatantly studies me from across the table.

“Yeah,” he finally says, his voice low and gruff. “I guess it does. Of course, now the game’s over.”

I look at the table, then at the two men with me. “Does it have to be?”

“You don’t have anything more to bet with,” Jackson says.

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