Page 134 of Deadwood
But it wasn’t his words or the knowledge that no one would touch me with his presence that soothed my speeding heart—it was him. His body near mine, his breath on my skin, his eyes only on me. I never wanted him to remove his hand from that spot. I wanted him to touch me like he had in the shower, with such careful precision, like he could play me as a musician might pluck the strings of a harp. Delicate and with meaning, only to elicit the most beautiful harmony. His caress made my skin sing, my senses tingle, and I wanted to feel it for the rest of my days. To hear the tune we silently sang in the presence of each other.
But all too soon, his hand was gone, leaving a cold breeze in its place.
I pasted on a smile. “I think I want to play a game.” I went to step forward in the direction of the pool tables, but his grasp was back, holding me in place.
Perfect.
He moved around me, his face now directly in front of mine. “You have to bet magic, and you have none to offer.”
With the tilt of my neck, my eyes locked on his. “I’ll just play with yours.”
A challenge, and I wanted him to bite.
A look of amusement lit his face, the slight arch of a brow, a small curve of his mouth. “Is that so?”
I moved closer. His breath skated down my cleavage with the dip of his chin. “Yes.”
“You don’t barter with magic that isn’t yours, Princess.”
My eyes fell to his neck, skirting down the peeking tips of his tattoo to the black shirt that stretched across his chest. If I reached out, I’d feel his heart. Was it beating as erratically as mine—wanting more as badly as I did?
“Consider it borrowing, then,” I replied, meeting his gaze again.
He released my waist once more, and I hated how badly I wanted it back again. Was he a drug, and I was addicted? “I don’t let just anyone borrow my magic.”
My finger moved on its own accord, connecting with his hard chest, trailing up, up… “It’s a good thing I’m not just anyone, then, isn’t it?”
His chin dipped further, and I knew people were watching, butfuck, I didn’t care. His tongue swept out to wet his lips, and the act alone nearly sent me to my knees. But before I could get further caught up in the mysteries of his mouth, his hand grabbed mine, flipping it palm up. His other arm moved, and then something cool landed in my grasp, glass clinking together. “Two vials. One game. No more.”
My fingers wrapped around the vials. “Bossy today, are we?”
His voice lowered, and I wanted to bottle the words that came with it. “You don’t know what bossy looks like, Auria, but I’d be happy to show you.”
I almost considered taking him up on his offer.Almost. But instead, I stepped back, satisfied enough with the vials in my hand and the knowledge that I’d gotten under his skin. “I’ll pass.”
Walking around him and the knowing smirk on his lips, I found an empty pool table with a muscled man leaning against it, massive arms crossed. It was a shock his skin didn’t burst from the size of the muscles themselves.
Setting the two vials on the table, I gave the man a saccharine grin. “Care to play?”
Unfolding the boulders disguised as arms, he grabbed his cue where it was leaned up against the table and took one giant step toward me. For a moment, I thought he might crush me where I stood, but instead of pulverizing me, his hand shot out to the right and he dropped two vials next to my own. I took that as his silent agreement that he was in.
To my surprise, Bowen didn’t try to step in. Rather, he leaned back against the nearest wall, cast in shadow as he faced the pool table. His feet were shoulder-width apart, his arms crossed over his broad chest. He didn’t move once as he watched my every shot while I played against the quiet giant of a man.
* * *
Fifteen minutes later,I wasn’t surprised I was losing. Truly, I’d only wanted to have fun. Well, that, and to have Bowen’s eyes on me the whole time. He thought he didn’t need me? I’d make him crave me instead.
A few people had stopped by to strike up a conversation with Bowen, but all the while they spoke, his simmering eyes never left mine. If I had to be honest, a big reason I was losing as badly as I was was due to my focus barely being on the game in the first place. My entire body was lit like a match under his ravenous stare. Bowen was dangerously distracting, and I feared my tactic to rile him up was having the opposite effect I’d wanted it to.
My opponent, who I’d learned went by the name Brick—it fit, really—had played a fair game, and I was a bit deflated our round was almost over. I wouldn’t ask Bowen for more magic, though. Not that I felt bad taking any, but because I didn’t trust myself to get that close to him right now. Our bodies, warm and soaking, in that shower, had awoken something in me. We’d both been laid bare, emotionally and physically, and I’d seen a part of him I wondered if anyone else ever had. My entire being was hyper focused on that version of him, but I had to remind myself that the Bowen I had seen last night wasn’t who he truly was. Not all the time, at least.
“Busy night last night, I hear,” a man said, offering Bowen a drink. The last conversation had been mumbled words, but this one I heard loud and clear from where I stood pondering over the game.
He shook his head at the mug of ale, declining it. “Just another day,” Bowen replied, and a glance his way found his eyes still glued to my every move.
With it being my turn, I surveyed the table, finding the best shot on the far end. Perching up on the tips of my toes, I knew Bowen could see down the front of my dress as I bent at the waist, and yet, I didn’t move to take my shot. I studied the angle of the ball to the hole like it was the most important decision of my life.
“Nemin went to the infirmary frantic as hell. Couldn’t tell if the guy had more tears or piss drenching him,” the man said before taking a long swig of ale.
