I hoped I was getting lucky tonight.
And I didn’t mean in the bedroom, although I wouldn’t say no to that either.
I’d settle for a kiss.
I longed for one.
5
Elle
His hip.
I was dying to see the new tattoo on his hip. I couldn’t stop wondering what it looked like.
Because . . . his body.
His gorgeous inked body was my kryptonite.
Except that barely covered the half of it.
He was my kryptonite.
This man I shouldn’t want.
Men were dangerous. Relationships were trouble. And love didn’t just break your heart. It abused it, stomped on it, wrecking it beyond recognition.
But that didn’t stop my wandering thoughts. As the music played, my mind kept returning to what Colin had told me earlier about his new ink. Did this tattoo match my favorite one on him? The one I’d seen when he took off his shirt to play basketball? The simple black lotus design on his right pec—the fine lines and details, the interlocking leaves of the lotus flower. I loved the meaning of it for him—change. Life changes. Rolling with them. Embracing change was as sexy to me as a six-pack. Hell, it was hotter.
As I pictured his ink, a ribbon of heat unfurled in my chest, tracing a dangerous path from my breasts to my belly and down, down, down.
Warming me up.
Turning me on.
What the hell? I was turned on by a tattoo?
But I knew better.
It wasn’t the ink.
It was the man.
Our friendship. His heart. His humor. The easy way we talked to each other. The teasing.
Everything with him was so easy.
But easy was deceptive. I knew that too well.
I closed my eyes, tried to focus on the music. Surely Beethoven never had these problems. Wanting what he couldn’t have.
And I couldn’t have Colin.
I’d made promises. I’d made choices. I had my own demons to face, and I was facing them by abstaining from men.
That was the problem. The big problem. Being with anyone would break those promises. So Colin was a line I couldn’t cross. A risk I couldn’t take.
With a string of not just bad, but horrific relationships in my wake, I was determined to stay the single-and-loving-it course. The one I’d finally set myself on after years of tsunami-strength trouble.
So tonight would be poker, and only poker.
He rustled in the seat next to me, inching closer as the music crested. His sexy scent drifted under my nose. He smelled so good. Like sex in an elevator.
That was not helpful, brain.
“Do you like the music?” he whispered, his lips so close to my skin. Goosebumps rose on my flesh as I blinked open my eyes.
I nodded, trying desperately to let the music guide my thoughts to a sweeter, purer shore. To let the music take me away from these primal, base notions washing over me from the dirty waves in my head.
I sneaked a peek at him, taking in the face I knew well. Strong cheekbones. Lightly stubbled jawline. Dark hair, nearly black. It looked so damn soft. Brown eyes, like chocolate. A body built by rock climbing, hiking, white-water rafting, and Ironman Triathlons.
“Yes, I like the music,” I said, trying to center myself.
And music would be my strength tonight, just as it had been over the years.
I’d leaned on Billie, Ella, Louis, Frank. I’d depended on all the crooners. They’d been my great escape during the darkest times of my life.
Music was my rock. It made me strong.
Tonight, I’d need it.
I channeled all my resistance from Beethoven as the concert ended and we said our goodbyes to other guests, then made our way to the tables.
Poker—that wasn’t something I needed to resist.
Poker was just plain fun.
But poker with a man you wanted?
Harder than getting a full house.
Or maybe it was harder than winning a single damn hand. Because I was losing. But Colin was ahead. He slid some green chips forward, raising the bet. A couple played next to us—a woman with curly hair and a man with a newsboy cap and graying goatee. He sighed heavily, but met Colin’s bet, sliding chips in too. The woman by his side wiggled on her stool, then cooed appreciatively. “Go get ’em, honey.”
I folded, then glanced at Colin. “You must have a good hand.”
His eyes danced. “Or maybe I’m feeling lucky.”
“Are you now?” I asked, a little sassy. Maybe because I was still on borrowed time. A few more minutes, and then I’d have to go.
As he showed his cards, the dealer gave an approving nod, indicating he’d won.
“Man, you’re on some kind of a streak,” the guy with the cap said, shaking his head in admiration.
Colin simply smiled. “It’s a good night.”
The man looked to me. “You must be his lucky charm.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “Hardly.”
“Oh, c’mon, sweetie,” the woman said in a voice thick with gravel. She was probably a heavy smoker. “Don’t deny it. A man’s sweetie pie always brings good luck.”
I flinched for a second at those words.
Sweetie pie.
Did we give off that vibe? I glanced at Colin, who grinned at me like we had a secret. He wiggled a brow. “Yeah, sweetie pie,” he said to me, all smooth honey in his tone.
There was something in his voice. Something that said he liked the sound of that nickname.
And I liked the sound of it on his tongue.
Far too much.
6
Colin
As far as openings go, it wasn’t my first choice. But the thing about openings was you didn’t get to choose them. You did, however, need to seize them if you wanted to take advantage of every opportunity.
When my eyes met Elle’s, I read her in an instant.
Hers said she liked what that term suggested. That we were together. And that was all I needed.
I took my chance, sliding an arm around her waist at the poker table. Hoping she wouldn’t mind. Hoping she’d like it.
“Sweetie pie,” I said, all flirty and playful.
But there was nothing flirty about the way she responded. Nothing playful.
There was only sensuality.
Only desire.
It was electric and instant.
It came in the hitch of her breath.
In the tremble of her body.
In the flutter of her lashes.
Holy fuck.
We weren’t playing around.
She was on the edge.
Elle was into this just like I was.
All the answers came in a rush. They came in the way she responded to my hand curling around her, my arm touching her back, my body sliding closer.
“On that note, I think I’d better quit while I’m ahead.” I nodded to the chips, then to the couple. “They’re yours. A gift.”
“Whoa, thank you,” the man said, and before they could shake my hand or say anything more, I whisked Elle away, my arm still around her, stealing her into a quiet corner of the casino.
With my arm still around her waist, I tucked a finger under her chin, our gazes meeting. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she said, so breathy, so sexy.
I ran my thumb over her jawline. “Did you feel that back there?” I asked, because there was no point in being anything but honest.