Page 35 of Black Jack (Advantage Play 5)

“It’s hardly cheating if we’re not committed in the first place.”

“Exactly. Which is why I want to know your thoughts on the matter. Are you planning on being committed to me? Or have you already written me off as a duty and nothing else?”

Her lips are pulled flat, and she doesn’t bother to answer.

“Would you like to know what I want?” I rasp. My voice is softer than before.

Again, she doesn’t say a word, but I can feel her curiosity as if it’s my own.

I glance over at her. Again.

Man, she’s beautiful.

“I want to try to make this work, Bianca. Not as an obligation but out of respect for both of us. We owe it to ourselves to try, and you deserve more than to be treated as a pawn by your brother. Even if he only set this up because he wants to keep you safe,” I clarify.

“But…why?” she asks. It’s like the thought of her being treated as something other than a joint that gets passed around in high school is more than she can grasp.

“Because you’re a person––not a pawn, which we’ve already established––and you deserve to be happy,” I explain, hiding my disgust that I even have to spell it out for her. “Look, I know I wasn’t the person you would’ve chosen to marry if you had a choice. But I promise to respect you––and our marriage––which means I won’t touch another woman unless you break the promise by touching another man. Deal?”

She gives me a jerky nod, then offers her manicured hand for me to take. As I shake it, she agrees. “Deal.”

“Good.”

“Does that mean you expect us to touch, since you won’t be getting it elsewhere?” she asks. There’s an underlying edge that makes me feel like I’ve been backed into a corner. Like no matter how I answer this question, I’ll still be screwed.

“Do you want us to touch?” I return with the same indifference, forcing myself to hold her gaze when I really want to take in every inch of skin she has on display. I mean, if she’s offering….

That familiar coy smile flutters just beneath the surface as she toys with the hem of her short dress. “Men like to touch me.” Her upper thighs play peekaboo like a damn peep show.

“I’m sure they do,” I growl in response.

“Would you like to touch me?”

I clear my throat, then tear my gaze away from her silky skin and glance back at her almond shaped eyes. My gut clenches. She’s played this game before. Like it’s a bartering chip or a ploy to get something she wants.

Hell, I’ve seen it in the interrogation room firsthand. Dangle the carrot, then make them jump through a hoop or two with the promise of reaching said carrot.

The question is…what the hell does she want from me that she doesn’t already have?

And just like that, the spell breaks.

“What do you want from me, Bianca?” I sigh.

Her jaw drops. “What?”

“Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”

“Excuse me?” she returns, just as lost as she was a moment ago.

“You know you’re gorgeous. You know I want to touch you. What I want to know is what you want.”

“I want you to take me home.”

I motion to the darkness encompassing us as we fly down the road. “We’re going home.”

“And I want you to let me suck you off.”

My head snaps to my right, convinced I’ve heard her wrong. “What?”

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