Page 48 of Worth Every Game
“How much did you lose?” I ask in a hushed voice.
“Enough.” He stands and starts putting all the chips away. Shuffling the cards, he spares me a glance. “You’re a fucking nightmare, you know that?”
For a second, I contemplate turning around and going to bed, but I dismiss it as momentary weakness and forge on with my plan. “Is you losing my fault?”
A dark laugh rumbles from him, and he begins shuffling the cards faster, fanning them out, letting them fly from hand to hand. It’s mesmerizing. “Couldn’t fucking concentrate with you here.”
A little buzz shoots through me. Maybe Seb was right, and if Jack’s prepared to make an admission like that, then this might be the moment to strike.
“Sorry.” I pout my bottom lip, but Jack doesn’t look amused. “Let me make it up to you.”
“How do you plan on doing that?”
“I’ll dance.”
Jack stops shuffling the cards, and without the flickering noise of them the room is deathly quiet. “Dance?”
I give him what I hope is an enticing, but seductive smile, acting as if I have this all under control, even though butterflies are swarming through my insides. I must be crazy. But I’m committed to this plan. Committed to winning.
I haul my jumper over my head and toss it to the ground.
Jack squints as though he’s looking into a light that’s too bright, but I don’t miss the moment his eyes widen as he takesme in.He likes what he sees. He looks like he wants to question me on my actions, but the expression vanishes, replaced with one of liquid heat.Perfect. His lips form what looks like an overawed ‘fuck’, and the heat in his eyes flows through me as though he’s funnelling it right to my core.
I need to make a move. One that’s not me running away from the explosive scenario I’ve set in motion. I can handle Jack Lansen and the way he’s looking at me.Can’t I?
I’ve already linked my phone to the sound system, and the music starts playing. I start to move, slow and sensual, and then I undo my skirt and let it fall to the floor, revealing the stockings and suspender belt.
Jack’s body goes taut. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, but he’s holding himself back, as though he’s expecting me to scream ‘Gotcha!’ in his face. But this isn’t a joke, and I need him to get involved.
I walk over and pull out the chair he was sitting on, turning it around and gesturing for him to take a seat.
“What are you doing, El?” Jack’s body is preternaturally still, but his eyes roam hungrily over me as I move.
“Playing with the pros.”
He tilts his head, contemplating my response. “Okay,” he says, putting the pack of cards on the table and dropping into the chair. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“No touching,” I confirm.
Jack swallows, and his Adam’s apple bobs up and down.God, he's got a sexy throat. The column of it, the dark stubble peppering it. “You’re the boss,” he replies gruffly.
A pulse thumps between my legs at his words.Maybe this is too much.But—fuck it—I'm not running away again. “No talking.”
He makes that little humming sound and sinks back in the chair, his thick thighs spread, and his shirt sleeves rolled to theelbow. His energy beats against my skin so dense and potent I can almost taste it.
I run over in my head what I’m doing here. Get him hard. Walk away.Irresistible, but unattainable.Hopefully, everything I’ve already done tonight has primed the path.
The music makes everything easier, filling the room with its sensual beat. I move to the rhythm, letting instinct take over, stroking my body as I dance, running my hands over my hips… my breasts. Jack’s mouth is drawn into a tense line, but his eyes are blue fire. As he drags his gaze over me, paths of scorching awareness steal over my skin. I have every scrap of his attention, and it feeds me like I haven’t eaten for a week. I’m gorging on the sensation of being admired by Jack Lansen, and I’m not sure anything has ever felt this good.
As I move my hips, letting the music guide me, heat builds low in my core. A dangerous, simmering heat that could boil over at any moment. I’m in my body, following its impulses like a slave, but simultaneously heady with the knowledge that I have this huge, gorgeous man at my mercy. His fingers tighten around the arms of the chair, like he needs to cling on to prevent himself from reaching out to grab me.
My clit is throbbing, desperate for friction. Begging me to get a little closer. I wonder if Jack knows what dancing for him is doing to me, or if he thinks this is all part of the game.
Unable to resist, I slide onto his lap, straddling him, my arms around his neck. His warm breath hits the exposed part of my breasts, and I tremble with pleasure. In response, a low moan rumbles in his chest, and he releases the arms of the chair, letting his hands hover over my thighs, but he pulls them back, remembering he’s not supposed to touch. His eyes flicker shut, and he groans as if this is absolute torment to him, and the sound sends a bolt of white-hot arousal through me.
We’re playing with fire.
The music builds, the low bass thump of it echoing the beat of my pulse. I writhe and grind against him, and with each rotation of my hips, the pressure hits my clit, climbing steadily to the inevitable end.