Jason was going to dine out on tonight for years. Yes, he’d beaten me. In three consecutive head-to-head hands, he drew me in and claimed my stack.
In record time.
Within half an hour of the first card being dealt, I was the first to be bounced out of the game. My head hadn’t been in the game since Jarryd had said his name. I needed to go home and decide whether to run, again.
Then again, I tried to convince myself, I wasn’t important enough for Scott to talk about. I tried to imagine the conversation.
Do you have a wife—no.
Do you have someone waiting for you in Sydney—no.
Girlfriend, partner, regular fuck-buddy—well there is this woman, but I’ve been ghosting her, so she doesn’t count.
“You should tell him how you feel,” suggested Jarryd as I gathered my bag and coat. No Scott here to use chivalry to hide our conversations. No. There was absolutely no reason to stick around and watch lesser players take home my money.
“Who?” At first, I thought Jarryd was talking about, him.
“Who else? Scott. The man you keep looking for, even though I told you he’s not even in the state.”
Jarryd didn’t look or sound jealous. Comfortable in our friend-zone. I didn’t know anyone else Scott was close to, Mason maybe. But the secret report would challenge the best of friendships.
“I tried, but Scott’s not talking to me, and he’s not in the mood for listening.”
“Something happened?”
“Nothing to do with the games, just something.”
“Look, Scott has issues with trust,” Jarryd lowered his voice. “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Not at the table, he’s too good for that. But there are times we’ll be talking, and he’ll just change. I always know when you’ve walked into a room because of the way he reacts.”
“I don’t know,” I moaned, wishing there was someone in this town who knew me. The real me.
“Scott has trust issues, but if it isn’t another guy, you’ll be fine.”
“How forgiving is he?” I couldn’t even conjure up another guy, but what Mason had asked me to do—unforgivable or not?
“If you’d asked me a year ago, I would have said that Scott Alexander would give you his last dollar for anything short of murder.” Jarryd smiled, shaking his head. “He’s a good guy.”
“And now?”
“He’s still a good guy, but the shit that went down changed him.” Jarryd held the door open, but blocked my path, forcing me to hear him out. “You are nothing like that other woman; and, for what it’s worth I never saw him look at her the way he watches you.”
“When does he come back from Melbourne?”
“How about I ask?” Jarryd smiled, closing the door on the game but not leading me towards the elevator.
Jarryd to Scott: I miss my fav player. ETA?
“He’s your favorite?” I laughed before Jarryd sent it.
“Would you rather I tell him a sexy brunette is standing next to me missing him instead of taking me home to bed?”
“You know we’d never make it to the bed,” I flirted, dropping my head to his shoulder to watch his phone.
Three little dots danced across the screen.
Then stopped.
Danced again.
Stopped.
Scott: Waiting at airport to find my bags. Missing the VIP treatment already.
Jarryd: Game’s already started but happy to roll out the red carpet if you’re up for it.
Scott: Nah. Home. Bed. Sleep.
“You’re a good friend.” I hugged Jarryd before pushing the button. The sooner the elevator arrived, the sooner I could figure out what to do next. “If I had any girlfriends, I’d send them your way.”
“If you had any girlfriends, I’d still want you to join us,” Jarryd left me with restored confidence and wet cheeks from his kisses.
Why did I have to do complicated relationships?
It was still early, and Scott would be home within the hour.
I had every intention of going home and spending the night going through options. Approach Scott? Forget him? Move to a different state before finding out what happened in Melbourne?
My car didn’t share my confusion, finding its way to Scott’s building—not that I knew what to say.
The truth? Not that he’d believe me. How could I convince him that he was the only man I could imagine growing old with? Other men had come and gone, but Scott was the only one I wanted to snuggle up with in old age.
When my ex talked about wanting children, I’d threatened to jump from his balcony. Only half joking. Children were vulnerable, precious, and deserved better parents than us.
Then I met Scott.
I could see him being a father.
His home screamed four walls waiting for a family.
Scott Alexander could be the father to the children I’d always been too scared to have.
How could I tell him that I couldn’t find a reason not to fall in love with him? That’s why I hadn’t dug as deeply into his finances when Mason asked. I couldn’t imagine a world where Scott was shady or corrupt, and I didn’t want to expose the extent of his past gambling.
The Scott I knew was in control.
He was kind, generous and funny.
Parking outside his apartment complex, all the lights on his floor were out. No point in calling him until I knew what to say and that he’d be home to hear it.
With an eye on the front door—assuming he’d be catching a cab home from the airport—I searched online for a way of trying to break the deadlock. Flicking through ideas, I kept coming back to a weekend away—after all that was how we’d found each other. That one weekend in Katoomba seemed a lifetime ago.
But, if Scott was ever going to look at us as a real couple, I had to come up with something that had nothing to do with finance of poker or work. One search lead to another which lead down rabbit holes of ideas until I came across Experience the Snow.
Jarryd said Scott was too injured to rock-climb. But if he was able to travel unaided, and had a week to heal, a weekend at the snow might be perfect. Even if he couldn’t go skiing, surely he’d be happy to snuggle up in front of an open fire drinking mulled wine.
I started the booking process imagining a weekend of making love and coming back to Sydney a real couple—even if it took some explaining to others. Surely, a weekend away could reset our relationship?
Just as a taxi pulled up in front of me, the final booking confirmation came through. It’d be a waste if Scott didn’t want to come with me. Then again, if he didn’t then I’d need time and space to heal my heart.
Running away, again?
Walking away from my marriage wasn’t as difficult as contemplating walking away from Scott.
Scott
The Sydney humidity hugged me like a familiar blanket. Sometimes oppressive, but after a week from hell, it was the comforting warmth and fragrance of home.
After a forty-minute wait for a cab, and only then because I bought my way to the front of the queue, I wanted my own shower, own coffee machine and to open a bottle of anything amber.
I didn’t want to see GG.
Well, I did, maybe. Possibly. But not tonight.
I was too fucking tired for this shit. An ambush of epic proportions.
My cab left and before I’d even found my keys, she stood between me and the complex front door.
Fuck her.
I wanted to believe she had nothing to do with the financials Mason had on me.
But if I asked the question, would I even believe the answer?
What answer would I want to believe?
The best of her and the future of us?
Or—
“I don’t want to talk.”
I’d brushed past her, before I could be tempted by her black leather gambling uniform. My shower awaited, steaming jets and enough soap gel to wash away a week’s smoke and gaming. I’d never seen the pits of human be
havior before and watching that Matt Hargraves disintegrate didn’t make me like the guy, but no person deserved to lose that much money or dignity in front of strangers.
“I’m not here to talk,” GG said, forcing her way through my front door and even beat me to the elevator. Even before the doors closed around us, her body cornered me. Arms pinning me to the corner as her lips chased mine.
She caught me.
Of course she did.
Where the hell could I go?
Tentatively, the lightest touch of her kiss claimed its prize until even I wanted her to win. Damn woman, she fought me all the way to my floor. Teasing, thrusting her hips and her tongue until she consumed me.
I didn’t have the energy or the will to push her away.
I’d tried to run.
A week away couldn’t stop my head screaming out warnings. Big, red, flashing light warnings that the gorgeous Carlynn Rush was hiding something. More than just her name and past.
Then there was the way she’d looked at Darius. Been there and been burnt by that. Although, she was here, waiting for me. Dressed as if coming straight from Jarryd’s. Who had wanted to know my ETA back to Sydney.
The lift stopped at the building gym and more red lights exploded. Two late twenties dudes sweating up the small space in their running shorts and towels draped around their necks. Of course, they were downing protein shakes.
“Hey,” the Zac Ephron look alike ignored me for the woman who hadn’t backed away when we got company.
“Hmm,” Carlynn didn’t break stride.
That wasn’t the point. The warning was because the way every man looked at her, whether at work or at the card table, or even in an elevator when her lips were attached to mine.
Carlynn had an effervescence that drew all people into her charismatic charm.
I didn’t.
Ed was the one who could charm his way out of a fight or into a bed. He had the natural sporting talent.
I read books and loved numbers, not finding my tribe until university and even then, a cloak of invisibility hid me from view. The rush of living came from cards, not drinking or fucking. Beating a mountain like K9 when others didn’t make it back.
Saving the Sherpa just because it was the right thing to do. No fanfare or medals.
Carlynn lit up a room while I couldn’t even find the light switch.
She ignored her fans when the lift reached their floor, and they made a half assed invite to join them. Grinding her hips into mine, her tiny body pinning me against the hard steel, I wondered about security cameras—if I couldn’t walk as far as my place, could we fuck here and how much would it cost for the tape? Not to erase it, but to own every copy.
“Scott?”
We’d reached my floor.
Decision time.
“I still don’t want to talk to you.”
“Then don’t.”
“I don’t trust you.”
“Then don’t.” Carlynn dropped my face, hands to her side while she led the way out of the elevator. “Until you do. Until you know the difference between my poker face and the truth, don’t trust me.”
I stood, holding the lift door open until the warning beeps could wake the dead. The woman should be sprouting out 101 reasons to trust her, not give me a way out.
“You’ve got one hell of a poker face.”
“So do you.”
“I’ve never lied to you.”
“That’s because I’ve never asked you questions you didn’t want to answer.”
Anger, frustration, exhaustion, lust.
She was here.
Damn it, the woman I wanted was here.
Irresistible. Wanting to be mine, at least for the night.
Spinning her inside my apartment, I refused to release her even after throwing my bag across the floor. Kicking the door closed, I scooped her into my arms, carrying her bridal style through to my bedroom. Not caring that the only romance would be in her imagination. Not caring what she thought of the heavy wooden furniture against the sleek sharp lines of the modern style.
I never pretended to have style.
At least Carlynn could never imagine my home being the result of a woman’s touch.
“You should leave,” I warned, threatening to throw her down on the bed, instead placing her gently on the floor, pushing her back towards the front door. “You don’t want this. Not really.”
GG’s response was to release her ponytail and toss her black, poker jacket across my pillow. Not the floor, or the end of the bed, but across my pillow. Before I could react, she dropped her skirt to the floor. A flick of her wrist and my cock saluted the sexy vision standing in front me, hand on her curved ass. Wearing nothing but a black bustier, black leather thong and the thigh high boots that would headline every fantasy until the day I died.
“What’s your best hand?” Carlynn asked, teasing me with her slow turn. Had it only been days since we’d been a real, hand holding couple in Katoomba?
“I thought you didn’t want to talk.”
Nothing had been within my control. Not since I’d stormed out of Mason’s office. I needed to take control of something, and Carlynn had come to me.
She’d fucking come to me, pushed her way into my building, my home.
Dropped her skirt in my bedroom.
Could Carlynn handle not being in control? Would she walk before I found the courage to shove?
Her eyes widened when I grabbed her arms, this time sending her flying onto my bed. A tiny whimper as her small frame bounced. I’d caught her unawares and she tried to turn, about to say something.
Not a chance. My fingers tucked around the leather strip on her thong—who the fuck had she worn it for—and tugged. My fury and jealousy building, Carlynn had to raise her hips to help me, or risk her expensive lingerie being torn from her body.
“Nod if you’re sure.” I pressed the small of her back. “You make a noise, this is over. Okay?” She nodded, twisting to give me a cheeky smile that deserved to be silenced with a kiss, but not yet. But, if she wanted to face me, I could work with that.
Working with the direction of her twist, I picked her up and dropped her again, this time on her back. Raising her hands above her head, I linked her black thong through my wrought iron bedhead, tying her wrists. Loose enough for her to get out at any time, but that wasn’t the point.
“Comfortable?”
We’d never discussed being tied up. Or about boundaries.
How far would Carlynn be willing to go?
To my surprise, she nodded.
“Any time you want to leave, just say the word.” Now, one beautifully sculptured eyebrow raised. “But don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”
After a week out of town, my refrigerator didn’t scream inspiration. Eggs, butter, berries. Yes, half a packet of flour and I could probably scrape together a waffle batter. I’d been craving home cooking for over a week, and the bananas sitting on my bench had turned the perfect shade of brown. Quickly smashing them with brown sugar, by the time I rinsed the berries, the first batch of waffles were ready.
In my rush to get back to the bedroom where Carlynn had been surprisingly quiet, my fumbling fingers almost knocked over a squeeze bottle of honey.
Wait! Yes.
While the next batch of waffles cooked, I warmed the honey in the microwave.
Giving into temptation, I padded down the hallway to sneak a peek. Gorgeous violet eyes blinked furiously. Carlynn had to smell the cooking and wonder what I had planned.
Cooking breakfast at midnight? Yeah, I’d never really embraced the idea of being normal.
“All in good time,” I answered her unspoken question before jogging back to the kitchen.
I had to have a can of cream. There’d been a party months ago and I was in charge of the cake. If not, then I started to mentally calculate the cost of ordering one and getting an Uber driver to pick it up.
Yes! Hidden at the back of the refrigerator, behin
d tubs of yoghurt I’d intended to eat, was a can of aerated cream.
I tossed my shirt across my dining table, not wanting to waste precious seconds taking it to the laundry. We’d waited too long already.
Loading the last of the waffles on a tray, this time I hummed my way back to the bedroom, letting her anticipation rise as I placed the tray on the edge of the bed.
Food had never been such an aphrodisiac! My faded blue jeans that had been packed for rock-climbing, weren’t designed for hiding my growing erection. I had three, four, maybe five days before Mason belted down my door. Carlynn had delivered her report.
We had time, and I had the inclination.
I unbuckled her bustier. Who the fuck designed something held together by twelve straps? Obviously someone who wanted a man to die from blue balls in the rush to get it off.
Success. Each time Carlynn wet her lips to say something, and then stopped, my cock grew a little more and my heart—
Should be running, hiding. Instead, the door opened a little more.
I wanted this to be about redemption for the past week. Straight, physical sex. Nothing emotional.
Except—
Shit.
Focus. I started off holding the bottle of warm honey above her bare chest. Watching her wait, twitch with anticipation. Her legs parting open. Yes, I saw everything. Even the way she gripped her panties to make sure her bonds were secure. She could have gotten out of them in a New York minute.
“You ready?”
At her nod, I removed each boot, kissing her leg from thigh to toes. Her bustier could be easily replaced if ruined by food, the boots might be a little harder.
She gasped as I tipped the bottle, drizzling the warm honey across her breasts, down her chest until it pooled around her belly button. Watching her writhe and moan, twisting but careful not to allow her ties to release, she had no more idea of what was about to happen than I did.
The suspense was driving us both wild.
Breaking off a piece of warm waffle, I smeared it with smashed banana before dipping it into the pooled honey and holding it to her mouth.
“What?” Carlynn quickly shushed herself, the apology all over her face.
“Did you want to say something?” I held the food tantalizingly close as she vigorously shook her head.
Reckless Gamble: a billionaire high stakes suspense romance (City Sinners Book 4) Page 17
