Page 19 of Poker
I repeat, what the fuck am I doing?
“No, but thanks,” she says with a smile.
“Okay. See ya soon.”
I move around her toward my Harley.
“Poker?”
I stop and glance over my shoulder. “Yeah.”
“I would lick you like a lollipop.”
CHAPTER10
MERI
He makes it sound so easy.
“Don’t you dare.”
My grin widens as I haul my arm back, my hand filled with dirt. Poker and I have been working on my garden for two hours, and it’s been fun. Comfortable.
“Or what?” I taunt.
His eyes fill with mirth as he pushes to his feet. I watch as he walks to my back deck, takes off his cut, and hangs it over one of the patio chairs. When he returns to stand in front of me, he spreads his arms out at his sides.
That’s all the invitation I need. I throw the dirt, hitting him square in the chest before falling backward to my ass and laughing.
“You’re gonna regret that,” he growls, but there’s no anger in his words.
“I doubt that,” I manage to push out through my laughter.
Before I know what’s happening, a large hand clasps around my ankle and drags me across the yard, making me grateful I changed into a tank and shorts I don’t care about.
“Are you gonna apologize?” he asks when he stops and lifts the nozzle of the hose from the ground to aim it at me.
“Why would I do a cra?—”
Cold water hits me in the face, and I sputter.
“I told you that you’d regret it,” he says. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out as more water fills my mouth. “What’s that? I can’t understand you.”
I launch myself at him, and he drops the hose to take my weight, and we fall to the ground. Landing on top of him, I shake my head to loosen water from my hair and get him wet.
Poker glares at me, but the twitch of his lips and the press of his hardening dick against my stomach betray the anger he’s trying to convey. Despite the cold from being wet, heat pools in my core.
“What are you doing to me?” he rasps, bringing his hands to rest on my hips.
My eyes slide closed at the contact. “Same thing you’re doing to me,” I whisper.
His sharp inhale sounds deafening in the still of the evening. All five of my senses are kicked into high gear until the only things penetrating through the lust-filled haze are the smell of dirt, the sound of our heartbeats, the feel of his body, the taste of my own fear, and the sight of arousal in his eyes.
After seconds that feel like a lifetime, Poker clears his throat. “You gettin’ hungry, babe?”
His words are like ice on my overheated veins. Scrambling off of him, I jump to my feet and do my best to ignore the way my nipples are threatening to cut through the cotton of my tank. Of their own accord, my eyes lower to his erection, and I lick my lips.
“Starving,” I finally find the presence of mind to say.
