Page 52

He’s totally bluffing. It’ll take a lot more to fool me.

“Yeah, right. I don’t need to. Game will be over when I win this hand,” I tell him.

He rubs his jaw, then taps his cards on the table. “Fine, you think your hand is that good? How about this? Let’s double down. You win this hand, and you’ll still get to use my car for a day, and I’ll also let you have the bed all to yourself for a week. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I’ll get the bed for an entire week? That’s extremely tempting. And if you win?”

“If I win this hand, I still get the kiss, but you have to remove your clothes and give me a lap dance.” He pauses.

The bed to myself for a week? Glorious. Sounds too good to pass up. It also sounds too good to be true. Is he trying to trick me? I look up at him through my lowered lashes and try to get a read on him.

The smug bastard.

I point a finger at him accusingly. “You think you’re so smart. You’re totally trying to play me. I’m not falling for this.”

He holds his hands up, all innocence. “Whaaat? I’d never try something so underhanded.”

“Sure. You’re willing to sleep on the couch for an entire week? Just like that. I don’t think so. Original bet stands. Show your cards, stud.” I show my three tens.

Dax flips his cards onto the table and shrugs. “Three Kings. I win.”

I point my finger at him. “I knew it! You were trying to play me. I knew you were bluffing with your melodramatic sigh and shifty eyes. You can’t fool me.”

Dax laughs. “Shifty eyes, huh? Ah, well. It was worth a try. Now, stop delaying. It’s time for you to pick an article of clothing to lose.”

I look down at my silky nightclothes. I can either take off my shorts or my top. I lay my hand on the top button of my shirt and slip the button through the hole. My hand moves down to the next button. My fingers hesitate for a moment before slipping the button through. I take a deep breath and move to the next and then, finally, the last.

“Do I really need to take it completely off?” I ask, suddenly shy.

“You’re not done. A deal is a deal,” he says. “I took mine off.”

I see him draw in a breath as my hand goes up to my shoulder. His gaze follows each movement of my fingers, and he’s trying to look composed as the soft silk of my pajama top drifts down my body. His eyes go wide, and he stops breathing.

“You’re staring,” I accuse lightly, trying to ignore the thrill of excitement his attention causes.

“And you’re fucking beautiful.” He locks his eyes on mine. “You’re not wearing a bra.”

There’s a sudden tension in the room that wasn’t there previously, and I feel lightheaded from the intense way he’s looking at me. “I was dressed for bed. I wasn’t exactly planning to play strip poker, or I would’ve planned my outfit better. Now, deal,” I command in a soft voice.

He picks up the deck of cards, shuffles them, then begins to deal them out. I notice his hands aren’t as steady as they were on previous rounds. His usually nimble fingers are having difficulty handling the cards.

Once the deal is done, I pick up my cards and immediately think about begging for a re-deal. I was dealt a big, fat nothing. Nada. Zippo. Zero. Not even a single pair. “You’re so going down now,” I gloat, hoping to throw him off. I slide over two cards to exchange. I keep my ten, Queen, and King. Maybe I’ll luck into having a straight.

He flattens his lips together and takes two new cards himself. The way his mouth tilts up in the corner completely gives him away. I’m toast.

“Oh yeah? Whatcha got?” he asks.

I look at my cards again, hoping I’ve missed something. Damn it. Not a freaking thing. “I fold,” I say with disgust.

“Oooh, ouch. Seems like your luck has turned, Jess,” Dax taunts.

I slide out of my chair. “Well, looks like the game is over. Though, to be fair, I only had two pieces of clothing, and you had three. Seems a little uneven if you ask me.”

I bend down to pick up my pajama shirt with the intention of putting it back on.

Dax leans back in his seat and shakes his head. “I think you’re forgetting something. First, you have to take off your shorts. Then, you owe me a kiss. You’re not the type to go back on a bet, are you?”

“I wasn’t, but I’m starting to rethink that,” I quip in a voice that I hope fools him into thinking I’m more in control than I feel.