Page 91 of Tainted Blood

That snaps him out of his trance.

“When you look like that, muñequita, I’ll play any fucking game you want,” he says huskily, reaching for his jacket.

“Don’t,” I tell him, and something in my voice makes him pause. “There’s no need to hide your weapons from me. I’m done pretending that violence isn’t a part of us. I’m done running from it.”

I’m done running from you.

“If you say so.” He tosses his jacket back down on the barstool and prowls up to where I’m standing. He circles me slowly like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes so dark and penetrating I feel like he’s inside me already.

The atmosphere is an electric storm on the horizon. He leaves my side for a second, and then the lock on the door turns.

“Ready to play?” he says, dropping a chaste kiss on my shoulder that makes the beat between my thighs dance to his tune.

“Who’s dealing?” I say in a raspy voice.

“Birthday girls first.” He gestures toward the gaming table.

I move to stand in the dealer’s position by the loaded shoe, while he diverts to collect a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon and two flutes from the silver bucket on the bar counter.

“What are we playing for?” I ask, watching him pop the cork with ease and distribute the liquid gold between the glasses, his movements so self-assured that the beat between my thighs becomes relentless.

Handing me a glass, he slides his hand into his pocket and tosses a handful of familiar-looking gold and black chips onto the felt. “What do you say to fifty grand a piece?”

I feel that crazy swell of laughter rising up inside me again. “Sounds like a good place to start.”

Taking a sip of my champagne, savoring the wicked fizz of bubbles on my tongue, I deal the first round as he pulls out the black chair opposite.

My heart races as he places ten thousand onto his betting box without even looking at his hand. In turn, I do the same, matching him chip for unknown playing card—throwing everything to chance.

“Why Legado?” he asks, studying my face as I deal us both a second card. “Why that dress? Why now?”

“I felt like going back to the beginning.”

Glancing at his cards, he flips over a total of twenty. A second later, I’m flipping over a total of nineteen.

“Are you hustling me again, muñequita?” He shoots me a loaded look as he sweeps my losing chips toward his own stash.

“Never cheat the system in the same place twice,” I say with a smile.

Another round. Another loss. I’m twenty thousand down already.

“It’s a good job you’re married to a rich man,” he says dryly, winning again.

“I make my own money these days, Santi. Just in case you forgot.”

I’m down to my last chip now.

My last bet.

I’m disappointed.

I never knew a game of blackjack could be so erotic. It’s all in the slide of hand, the stolen glances, the charged pauses… My panties are so wet it’s embarrassing.

“You need a better incentive to win,” he declares, reaching into his pocket again and laying out the most beautiful diamond engagement ring I’ve ever seen on my betting box.

“What’s that?” I gasp.

“Your birthday present,” he says idly. “I figured it was time to replace a ring I bought for a woman I hated with one for the woman I love.”

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