Page 37 of Dating the Rebel
She shook her head. “No. It just doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s called skill,” Grant gloated. “Just admit that I have more of it.”
That was undoubtedly true. She hadn’t played cards in years, but she’d thought she’d done pretty well. And when she’d drawn two more cards to get the full house, she’d thought she’d beat him for sure.
A twinge of disappointment had struck her heart then—that she wouldn’t have this last night with him and that he would have no reason to audition as a date again. So she was probably going to win more by losing.
She wanted him so damn badly.
She glanced up from the table and realized that everyone else had left. He must have silently shown them out because she hadn’t noticed them leaving.
“You can still beat me if you like,” he said.
“You want to play another hand?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. I was just thinking you might have a whip to go with all that leather you’re wearing.”
“Thinking or hoping?” she asked.
He flashed that wicked grin at her.
“I didn’t realize you were into kink,” she said.
“Says the woman who suggested a threesome.”
“I did not,” she said. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”
He shook his head. “Just you...”
Her heart did a strange little flip. But she drew in a deep breath to settle her excitement. He just meant for tonight. He didn’t want her for keeps. No. He wanted to sign up to date other women.
Not that she wanted him for keeps. She just wanted him for tonight. Maybe if she had sex with him again, she would get sick of it, sick of him...
Or even more addicted to him.
“This is a bad idea,” she murmured—more to herself than to him.
He pointed toward the door. “You can leave. I won’t hold you to the bet.”
Warmth spread through her heart. Maybe his acting a gentleman on their last date hadn’t been just for the audition. Maybe he really was one.
She shook her head. “No, a bet’s a bet.” She flinched though.
And he sucked in a breath. “Not if you’re going to be miserable delivering on it. The last thing I want to do is pressure you into something you don’t want.”
That was the problem. She wanted him—very much. “No, I was thinking that I failed Teo. I didn’t make his money back for him.”
Grant picked up a wad of bills from the hostess station near the door to the hall. “Here, give it back to him. I don’t want it...”
“You don’t need it?” she asked, and she wondered, just how did he make his money?
Cheating?
As if he’d read her mind, he said, “I didn’t cheat you. I just got really, really lucky...” Then he took that wad of cash and held out his hand toward the front of her vest. “Isn’t that where you had your money?”
He waited a moment—maybe to see if she’d push him away—before he dipped his hand, with that money, into her cleavage. She sucked in a breath, which strained the already tight top so much that the zipper on it began to slide down. His eyes darkened with passion, his dilating pupils swallowing that dark blue, as he saw what he was doing.
And he kept doing it until the top parted.
