Page 20 of Poker
“Fuck, Meri,” he growls as he stands.
My stare darts to his face, and satisfaction rolls through me at the strain I see there.
He’s just as affected as I am.
“Keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to kiss you,” he snaps.
“Okay.”
In a split second, Poker’s mouth is fused to mine. At first, the kiss is light, but as moments tick by, he increases the pressure and slips his tongue between my lips. His hands slide up my sides, over my shoulders, to the back of my neck, where he holds me to him like any amount of space between us would be physically painful.
I don’t know how long we melt into each other, but when he pulls away, I sway toward him, reluctant to let him go.
“Why’d you stop?” I ask when the silence becomes too much to handle.
“Because if I didn’t, I’d be fucking you into the ground like my very existence depended on it,” he says bluntly, adjusting himself.
A giggle escapes me, and I slap a hand to my mouth. Poker only smirks.
“I like your honesty,” I tell him.
“And I like every damn thing about you,” he retorts. After several deep breaths, he asks, “Ready for me to make the steaks?”
“Yeah.” I run my gaze down the length of his body. “If you wanna grab a shower first, feel free. I can throw your clothes in the dryer real quick.”
“That’d be great, thanks.”
Five minutes later, he’s set up in the bathroom with a clean towel, and the dryer is tumbling. As for me, I’m doing my best not to think about the fact that Poker is naked… in my house.
He emerges from the bathroom ten minutes later, a towel wrapped around his waist. I swallow my tongue when he stands at the threshold to the kitchen.
“Oh, um…”
I move past him to the laundry room for his clothes. They’re not completely dry, but they’ll have to do because I don’t have anything that will fit his massive frame. Our fingers brush when I hand them over, and electricity zings through my body, making me shiver.
“Cold?” he asks, and all I can do is shake my head. “Go get a hot shower, and I’ll get dinner going.”
It’s an order, and one I have no problem obeying. I scramble to my bedroom and then into the attached bath. It crosses my mind that I could’ve let him use this shower, but something about it felt too… forward.
I remain in the shower until the water starts to run cold. Unfortunately, not enough time has passed that I’m any less desperate for the man who has gotten under my skin, into my soul. I’m not sure there’s enough time in eternity for that to be a possibility.
When I enter the kitchen, dressed in clean shorts and a black tank, Poker is grabbing silverware from the drawer.
“Smells good,” I say quietly, not wanting to startle him.
He turns around and freezes. Nerves attack me from the inside out, and I avert my gaze.
“Don’t do that,” he growls. “Don’t hide from me.”
With the air trapped in my lungs, I lift my head and level my eyes on his. “I don’t know what’s happening here,” I admit.
Poker shrugs. “Do we have to label it? Can’t we just take it a day at a time and see what happens?”
I consider that, and there’s only one problem with his request. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend.”
He sets the silverware on the counter and stalks toward me. Bending slightly, he cups my cheeks. “Then we make a promise that, no matter what, neither of us will let that happen.”
He makes it sound so easy.
