Page 69 of Beautiful Trauma
“Then I look forward to it, she replied softly.
“So do I.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: KELLAN
As I peered over my hand of cards at Mila, I gave her my best poker face. “I’m going to raise my bet by twenty.” Since we lacked any poker chips, I pushed forward four pretzel sticks to represent my bet.
Mila flicked her gaze from the sticks to me. “I think you’re bluffing.”
With a shrug, I said, “I guess you’ll just have to see.”
It was close to one in the morning, and Mila and I had been playing poker since a little before eleven. The cable in the room was shoddy at best, so we finally gave up trying to watch anything on it.
Surprisingly enough when I’d called down to the front desk, they’d had a pack of cards.
After Mia chose another card, the slight tick in her jaw told me everything I needed to know. She organized a few before placing them on the table. With a sweet smile, she said, “Four of a Kind.”
As I eyed the four sixes, I whistled. “Now that is a hand.”
Mila grinned.
“Yes, it is.”
When she reached for the pile of pretzels, I tsked at her. “Now wait a minute. Who says you get the pot?”
“Four of a kind can only be beaten by a straight or royal flush,” she replied matter-of-factly.
“Like this?” I asked as I spread out my royal flush
As her eyes took in my hand, her face flushed red. “Cheater!” Mila cried as she tossed her remaining cards onto the table in a huff.
With a chuckle, I replied, “I did not cheat.”
“Yes, you did. There’s no way you had such a good hand just by accident.”
“You are a sore loser, Ms. Korolova,” I teased.
“I am not!” she protested, her ice blue eyes popping wide.
“You’re also very argumentative when you don’t get your way,” I mused.
Scowling, she countered, “Well, we can’t all be perfect like you.”
I threw back my head with a laugh. “Since you’re bringing out the insults, I think that’s enough cards.”
Mila swept her hand to her ample chest. “I’m the one bringing insults? Youcalled me an argumentative, sore loser.”
The fire that swirled in her eyes sent heat rocketing to my dick. When it twitched in my boxers, I hated myself for thinking of her that way considering all she’d been through.
After shifting in my chair, I looked away from Mila and tried to push the blood back above my waist and out of my cock.
The sound of Mila’s chair clattering to the floor caused me to jerk my gaze back to hers. The next thing I knew, she was clambering into my lap. “What are you doing?”
As she ground her core against me, she pleaded, “Make me forget.”
“What?”
“Make me forget what their hands felt like on my body.”
