Page 28 of One Touch

Her green eyes held mine.

Fuck it.

I drained my cup. “Deal ’em up.”

TEN

KATE

Four games later,I was kicking his ass and feeling pretty damn confident.

Beckett’s long legs were folded beneath him as we sat across from each other on the floor, rain streaming down outside.

His gray eyes narrowed as he slapped his cards in front of him. “Son of a bitch. Duke taught you, didn’t he?”

I grinned and scooped up the cards to shuffle after another winning round. “Sure did.”

Beckett groaned as he unfolded himself from the floor and went in search of something. He flipped open a few boxes, then unstacked and restacked them against the wall as heavy rainfall continued outside.

“Can I help you find something, nosy?”

He moved another box. “I know there was a bottle of Blanton’s in here somewhere.”

I pointed to the stack of boxes tucked into the corner. “Try the one markedFor When Beckett Is Insufferable.”

Amused confusion crinkled the lines around his eyes, and I tamped down the roll of desire that crept up.

I shrugged. “I got bored marking boxes, so Aunt Tootie and I had a little fun.”

He shook his head and kept rummaging past another box labeledRubber Bands and Other Weird Crap. “Here we go.” Beckett pulled the bourbon from the correct box and studied the label.

I raised my glass with a smile. “Well, stop looking at it like you’re gonna make out with it and serve it up.”

Beckett smirked as he moved back to the blanket. That man had swagger. His long legs moved in a way that was graceful, but predatory. I was suddenly hot and nervous. Cocooned and alone in a dark house with Beckett, I listened to the rhythmic drumbeat of the rain, which seemed to shelter us from the outside world.

Intimate.

Sensual.

Wrong in all the best ways.

I had to remind myself that this was Beckett freaking Miller. Duke’s best friend and the man in charge of renovating my aunt’s house. Worse, he was my ex’s older brother, who made no qualms about letting me know how annoying and useless he found me.

But there was no denying the look in his eyes was transmitting something entirely new, and it was definitelynotannoyance.

I focused my attention on the cards as Beckett sat and poured us each a healthy portion of bourbon. “Another hand?” he asked.

“Sure, but let’s up the stakes.” I peeked from under my lashes to gauge his reaction.

Beckett held the bourbon in his mouth before swallowing it down. “What did you have in mind?”

I bit back a smile as I dealt. “I win, I get ...” I looked him up and down, taking my time and appreciating the broad expanse of his chiseled shoulders. “Your shirt.”

He leaned back on an arm. “Well, that doesn’t seem very fair. What do I get if I win?”

A smile lifted the corner of my mouth as butterflies danced in my belly. “Well, you haven’t won a single hand yet. What do you want?”

His eyes moved with an aching slowness from where my pulse hammered at the base of my neck, across my chest, and down the length of my legs.

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