Page 23 of Below Deck Billionaire
Except she’d been naked at the time.
She’d relived that night a thousand times these past five months, and the heated memories of his kiss, of his touch, buzzed through her system now with such visceral intensity they activated all heronswitches. Boss or not, off the clock or not, best friends BIL or not – Tiffany was lit with desire.
Which was not good.
Neither of them were sorting chips any more; they were just staring at each other. Also, not good. Idle hands and all that. What had he been saying again?
Right… the uniform. Distracting. ‘That’s kinda the point,’ she murmured. ‘Of the uniform.’
A slight frown creased his brow momentarily, like he’d also lost track of the conversation before picking up the thread again. He looked her over one more time. ‘Yeah.’
‘Keep the punters at the table with charms and smiles,’ Tiffany reiterated, even though she clearly didn’t need to explain casino psychology to a guy who’d probably signed the purchase orders for this very uniform.
Or was certainly the boss of the person who had, anyway.
‘Yeah,’ he repeated. ‘I think…’
Tiffany waited for him to finish, but Theo just let the sentence trail off. ‘What do you think?’ she pressed, desperate for any conversation to distract her from the staring.
‘Maybe we should rethink the uniform.’
It was Tiffany’s turn to be puzzled. The uniforms clearly did what they were supposed to do – keep gamblers gambling. Including the male croupier uniforms, which were so slim fitting they might as well have had Velcro fasteners on the shirts and trousers.
Changing that seemed like a dumb business move.
‘Why?’
‘We want to attract punters, not make them forget why they’d sat down in the first place. Because trust me.’ His eyes took another quick tour over her blouse, his gaze roaming hot before it returned to her face. ‘You in that uniform? I’m not thinking about gambling at all.’
His gaze locked on hers. ‘What are you thinking about?’
It was out before she could stop it.Stupid.So stupid. Playing with fire as her libido and the thick pulse between her legs drove her mouth. She had no business asking him such a loaded question. She should have ordered him out of the saloon, or taken him up on his offer to clean up in the morning.
They should be anywhere else but here – alone.
‘Trust me,’ he said on a harsh huff of air, his eyes holding her captive. ‘You don’t want to know what I’m thinking.’
Tiffany’s breath hitched at the gravel in his voice, which had thickened his accent. Maybe she shouldn’t want to – but she did. She sure as shit couldn’t think about anything else, and maybe she was playing with fire but her chin lifted anyway. ‘Maybe I do.’
His lips quirked in a slight smile. ‘It’s… not exactly suitable for work.’
‘Just as well I’m off the clock, then.’ Now she was definitely playing with fire. ‘I’m a big girl, Theo. Why don’t you let me decide what I can handle in my down time?’
Blue eyes locked on hers as he picked up his glass and took a slug of whisky, watching her over the rim as he swallowed. Holding her gaze, he brought it back to the table but held it firm. ‘I want to strip off your tie, rip open the buttons of your blouse, push up your skirt, bend you over this table and fuck you from behind.’
Tiffany’s heart banged hard against her ribs as each filthy word dropped like stones into the silence. She supposed she was meant to recoil from his deliberate crudity. Be shocked. Scandalised. Affronted.
It would have been a lot easier if she was.
But she wasn’t. She was titillated. Her breath roughened with every detail as he took her right into the thick of the fantasy until she was picturing herself, stiletto-clad feet wide apart, legs spread as if he was frisking her instead of fucking her, her lacy bra exposed as his big body surrounded her, fully dressed apart from his open fly as he pounded her all the way to the climax she could already feel simmering between her legs.
Jesus. She shouldn’t want that. But she did. The throb between her legs intensified as a husky breath slid slowly from her lips. ‘A shame about that no-sex dare, huh?’
And the fact she had more self-respect than being a rich man’s plaything.
The angle of his jaw clenched white as he raised his glass to her, his lips twisting into an ironic smile as he drank, draining the remains in one swallow. It thudded as it landed on the table.
‘Maybe don’t wear the uniform tomorrow night,’ he said, then turned away throwing, ‘Goodnight, Tiffany, sweet dreams,’ over his shoulder like he hadn’t just almost brought her to orgasm from words alone.
