Page 28 of Wild Card (Advantage Play 1)

“Deal.”

Chapter Sixteen

Ace

I’m anxious. I don’t want to admit it to myself, but it doesn’t stop the way I keep tossing and turning in my bed, my heart skipping a beat every time I imagine hearing a sound in the house, only to find it empty.

I can’t believe I actually agreed to this. The guy is breaking into my apartment for Pete’s sake, and I’m allowing it? Just because he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen doesn’t mean he should get a free pass for breaking and entering.

Fidgeting with the sheets, I finally sit up and head to the kitchen for a glass of water. There’s no way I’m going to be able to sleep tonight when I know I’m going to be woken up by an intruder any minute now. As I open the cabinet and reach for a cup, I nearly jump out of my skin at the sound of the window latch being unlocked.

With barely restrained anticipation––though I refuse to admit it to myself––I turn on my heel to see a very sexy Kingston grinning at me.

“Fancy seeing you here,” I murmur while folding my arms and popping out my hip.

He ignores my snarky tone and replies, “Likewise. Although I think I prefer the other pajamas.” I look down at my baggy hoodie with threadbare sweats that nearly swallow me whole.

“And why’s that?” I ask with a quirked brow.

His deep laugh reverberates through his chest, softening a bit of my prickly demeanor.

“Skin, Ace. Guys like when you show it off.”

A smile cracks on my face before I join in his laughter.

Dammit, he’s charming.

An ass. But a charming one.

“Well, maybe I want a guy to like me for my mind instead of my body. Ever think of that one, Sherlock?”

“Is this your way of trying to find out if I’m still attracted to you or not?”

“Are you saying you were attracted to me in the first place?” I counter.

With another deep laugh, he asks, “Are you fishing for a compliment?”

“Are you going to give me one?”

Shaking his head, he stalks closer. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for being so feisty.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for being so stubborn.”

“Lie.” He grins, calling me out.

With my eyes crinkled in the corners from smiling so hard, I admit, “Touché. I definitely pegged you for being stubborn.” My voice is light. Airy. The opposite of how it should be when addressing a mob boss. Especially when he just broke into my freaking apartment. But right now, in a pair of low sweats and a t-shirt, he appears to be the furthest thing from it.

“Where’s the suit?” I ask, lifting my chin at his attire.

“A suit doesn’t exactly blend in, and when I’m trying to be discreet—”

“You go for ghetto. I like it.”

“Ghetto?” A mock-offended Kingston clutches at his chest. “I was going for casual. Are you saying I look like a thug?”

Casually, I check him out from head to toe, turning the tables on him and enjoying the power that thrums through my veins. When I’m away from Kingston, I can almost convince myself I’m imagining his good looks, but nope. Here he is, in the flesh, and I definitely can’t argue with the fact that Kingston is sexy as hell.

For once, I notice that he looks his age. Only a few years older than me, instead of the man I met who let his experiences age him right before my eyes.

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