Page 59 of Wild Card
“That it makes an ass out of you and me?”
She shakes her head and leans back in her chair, arms crossed under her full breasts. “No, that you need to take your pants off and show me the goods.”
I bark out a laugh now. Gwen always manages to make me laugh. Head shaking as I push to stand, I resign myself to the fact that I am doing this. I don’t even feel that buzzed anymore.
But I am a man of my word. And I lost that hand fair and square.
Towering over her, I pop open the button of my jeans and watch her lips fall open on a sharp inhale. When I pull down my fly, she licks her lips.
My dick hardens and I know it will be visible through my boxers. But I can’t help myself with Gwen here watching.
Her eyes flash to mine, a little glassy. She crosses her legs and nudges her chin in my direction, urging me to get on with it.
“You that fucking eager, Gwen?” I taunt.
“Yeah. I am,” she breathes.
I bite the bullet. Holding her gaze, I slide my jeans down, stepping out of them and in her direction with my cock at full mast.
Her eyes drop, and the little moan that vibrates in her throat only makes me harder. The way she sits up straight, leaning closer, gives me ideas I shouldn’t have at all.
Her fingers dig into her knees as she tilts her chin back up to me. “What now, Bash?”
My blood heats and my skin sizzles. I can see her hard nipples pressing against her sports bra. I can imagine everything so easily. Stepping forward and feeding my bare cock into that pretty fucking mouth. Lifting her onto the table, fucking her so hard that those cheap plastic chips fall all over the floor.
“Next round?” I rasp.
Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “I can’t decide if I want to keep winning or lose a few hands just to watch you work for it.”
Fuck.
I can feel my carefully placed tendrils of control starting to snap. Without thinking, I step close, my bare toes butting against hers as I reach forward and gently grip her chin. “Careful what you wish for, Gwen. I’ve got a laundry list of ways I’d like to watch you work for it, and none of them involve poker.”
“Fuck,” she whispers, her fingers drifting to the side of my thigh, the sharp points of her nails trailing up slowly.
My molars grind, and I get lost in her eyes for a beat. It would be so easy. It would be so worth it.
“God. I really should not want you this badly,” I finally confess, all my jumbled, inebriated, complicated feelings floating to the surface. Gwen’s opposite hand lands on the waistband of my boxers, eyes still latched to mine like I hung the moon. “But look at you. You’re fucking perf?—”
“You know what I hate?” Clyde’s voice filters from down the hall, the soft thud of his slow, shuffled footsteps shocking us both into stillness. “How thirsty I am all the time now.”
We fly into action. I scoop up my clothes and dart for the back door as Gwen scrambles for her sweatshirt.
“I must be the most hydrated man in the world,” I hear him say right as I quietly shut the door behind myself. “Where’s Bash? And why are your socks over here?”
My heart thuds wildly, relief and shame pounding at me as I realize how fucking close that was. I shake my head. I’m a grown-ass man sneaking around in my own home. With my son’s ex.
It’s pathetic.
“Oh, I tried to play strip poker with him. But I took my socks off and he got a massive boner, then acted all weird. Ran off to bed.”
Then shelaughs.A high, manic giggle.
My jaw unhinges.Is she fucking kidding me?She’s going to pay for that one.
Clyde scoffs. “That tracks. Hewouldhave a foot fetish. Anyway, good night for real this time. Actually, since you’re still up, can you come help me set the pillows up that way I like? I can never get them as good as you do, and I’m a little sore.”
Her voice comes out soft now. “Yeah, of course. Let’s go get you settled.”
