Page 118 of Tempting Wyatt
But the caged beast in me is rattling the bars, beating his chest, shouting,Mine,to every motherfucker in hearing distance.
HALF AN HOUR LATER,I glance across the worn wooden coffee table at the woman who’s frowning at the cards in her hand like they’ve personally insulted her.
“Thank God I showed up before you played poker with the ranch hands,” I say after beating her for the fourth time in strip poker.
She’s lost her shirt, jeans, bra, and socks. She’s down to a tank top and panties.The sight is mouthwatering.
All I’ve taken off are my socks in a round that I let her win.
She lifts her chin in defiance. “I can handle a bunch of cowboys.”
I snort. “No offense, sweetheart, but if you play poker in the bunkhouse, you’ll be donating your paycheck to a bunch of cheating ranch hands by the end of the night. Or taking off all your clothes—in which case, I’ll have to murder all my help.”
She narrows her eyes. “That bad?”
“That bad.” I deal her another hand. “Let’s go again.”
She picks up her cards, glancing at them for all of two seconds before looking at me. And there it is—her tell. Theslight lift at the corner of her mouth when she’s got a good hand. The little crease between her brows when she doesn’t.
I smirk. “You’re showing all your cards, sweetheart.”
Her head jerks up, eyes going wide. “No, I’m not.” She tucks her cards tighter against her chest, looking offended at the accusation.
I shake my head. “Notliterally.” I lean in, resting my forearms on the table. “Your face gives you away every time.”
She gets a little huffy. “Does not.”
I tilt my head, studying her. “It does, angel. You’re doing it right now.”
Her brows knit together. “Doing what?”
I chuckle. “That.” I tap a finger against the space between her eyes. “You’re thinking too hard. Feeling too much.” I lean back, stretching my legs out under the table until my foot brushes hers. “Your emotions are all over your face, darlin’. It’s cute. But it’s also why you’re gonna lose. Every single time.”
She rolls her eyes but doesn’t pull away. “So, what do I do, oh wise and all-knowing card shark?”
I grin. “You bluff.”
She lifts a brow. “Like lying?”
“Likeplaying poker.”
I give in and kiss her pouty lips. She tastes like the crisp sweet wine she’s drinking. “Remember when we met and you were shaking in your designer shoes, but you jutted that cute little chin out at me and puffed up like a feral kitten so I wouldn’t know I’d intimidated you?”
She frowns. “Yeah, so?”
“You bluffed. This is just like that. Act like you’ve got this, like you know you’re good, no matter what shitty hand you’re dealt.”
She smirks. “Feels like I’ve been doing that my entire life.”
I don’t think I’ve ever related to a human being more.
I kiss her again. “You should be a pro then.”
I deal her a new hand, and this time, when she picks up her cards, she doesn’t react. Just keeps her face carefully blank. Impassive. Unbothered. Smiles sweetly at me.
Damn. She catches on quick.
We play, both of us bluffing and raising the stakes until we can’t any longer.
