by Nell Stark
“You must be exhausted. Do I need to apologize?”
“Don’t even think about it.” Nova leaned through the space between them to kiss her too briefly. “Go sit. I’ll bring you breakfast. Coffee?”
“Please.” Her lips tingled, their warmth spreading beneath her skin. She took a step toward the table before changing her mind and her trajectory. She turned back to Nova and cupped her hips before sliding her palms across flickering abdominal muscles covered only by a thin layer of cotton.
“Oh.” Nova’s entire body shivered. “You can’t know how good that feels.”
“To me, too.” Vesper rested her cheek between Nova’s shoulder blades and let her fingertips trail down until they encountered skin. Hot silk over steel—that’s what she felt like, and Vesper suddenly needed to feel that skin beneath hers. Last night, Nova had taken control. Now it was her turn.
She dipped beneath Nova’s shorts and swiped her fingers back and forth like a pendulum, trying to show Nova with actions what she found so difficult to say in words. Nova was so good at describing her feelings. For her sake, she would try.
“Vesper,” Nova groaned. “The eggs.”
She stood on her toes and flicked her tongue against Nova’s ear lobe. “I’m not hungry for them just yet.”
Vesper tugged Nova backward toward the table, then spun her around and pointed to the closest chair. Nova sat down immediately, eyes glazed over with want. “So obedient,” Vesper murmured as she sank to her knees.
“Oh, God.”
Heady with the power trip, Vesper laughed. “But I’m the one on my knees.” She took hold of Nova’s waistband and pulled, gratified to find no other barrier in her path. Resting her palms on Nova’s inner thighs, she slowly pushed them apart. Nova’s sex gleamed, beckoning her closer. She didn’t fight the impulse, leaning in to place one gentle kiss on the swollen knot of nerves before pulling away to gauge the reaction. When Nova made an inarticulate sound somewhere between a groan and a whimper, Vesper did it again.
This time, she stayed put, using her tongue to explore the delicate crests and troughs of Nova’s most sensitive skin. She fluttered her tongue against Nova’s opening and was rewarded by a rush of moisture and a tortured moan.
“Mmm.” Vesper raised her head to a sight even more exciting than Nova’s sexy sounds. Nova’s hands were clenched on the chair, knuckles white and wrist tendons straining. Her jaw was clenched and her nostrils flared with each rapid breath. She looked like a woman on the edge of losing control. Already.
Last night, Vesper had been afraid of saying too much, so instead she had said nothing. Now, with Nova open and needy beneath her hands, she felt no fear at all. “You like that, don’t you?”
Without waiting for an answer, Vesper ducked her head. This time, she used one thumb to rub soft circles around Nova’s clit while resuming the flickering of her tongue. When Nova’s hips bucked, Vesper shifted her arm to hold her down. The salty sweetness of her was like nothing Vesper had ever tasted. For a moment, she wondered whether Nova’s taste mirrored that of the ocean, before Nova’s hand clutched her hair and pulled her even closer.
“Please,” she panted, “oh, please…”
I know what you need, Vesper might have said. But she didn’t want to talk anymore. Instead, she slid her tongue inside Nova’s body. When she could go no further, she withdrew and returned, fucking her slowly and deliberately as her thumb circled and stroked.
Nova’s hoarse shout pierced the air as she shattered, pulsing against Vesper’s fingers, internal muscles convulsing wildly. To feel her release while they were so intimately connected was nothing short of amazing. Vesper dug her fingertips into Nova’s thigh and curled her tongue, wanting to prolong her climax in any way possible. It must have been the right thing to do, because Nova cried out again and tightened her grip. The slight pain in Vesper’s scalp was entirely worthwhile, and she didn’t let up her caresses until the iron bands of Nova’s thighs softened beneath her arm.
Only then did she pull back, peppering soft kisses along Nova’s skin in the process. When she looked up, Nova was staring back at her, a naked vulnerability in her eyes that made Vesper’s heart stutter. Then, as though Nova had become aware of how much emotion she was betraying, a shutter fell over her expression. For one insane moment, Vesper wanted to call her out—to make her confess what she was feeling. But how was that fair, when she wasn’t willing to do the same?
Instead, she decided to give Nova some space in which to regroup. Retreating across the kitchen, Vesper tentatively touched the side of the skillet. “Still warm,” she reported. “See? The eggs are fine.”
When she turned around, Nova had pulled up her shorts. “Good thing.” She joined Vesper at the stove, resting one hand on her hip and leaning in to kiss her lightly on the cheek. “They’re not to be missed.”
Vesper wondered what she was trying to communicate. Gratitude? Affection? Something else? “So you said.” She leaned into Nova briefly, hoping to telegraph that her little touches were welcome. “Pretty full of yourself, aren’t you?”
Nova grinned, hoisted the skillet, and turned toward the table. Vesper licked her lips, tasting Nova as she followed in her wake. For a while, they behaved like a normal couple over breakfast—chatting about mundane topics as though by some unspoken agreement to avoid anything relating to gambling. Slowly, Vesper relaxed into the conversation, feeling sheltered by the banality of it.
Finally, she glanced at the clock and pushed her chair back. “That was amazing. Thank you.”
“I’m glad you liked it.” Nova sipped at what was left of her coffee. “When do you need to go?”
“Within the hour. Priscilla’s friends are leaving in the early afternoon, and I should see them off.” So much had happened last night that Priscilla’s victory at the craps table felt like a distant memory.
“She isn’t going with them?” Nova stood and began to clear the plates. When Vesper tried to mimic her, Nova shook her head. “Let me.”
“But you cooked.”
“I did. But you never stop moving.” Nova transferred the plates to one hand and briefly cupped Vesper’s cheek. “Just sit. Please.”
“All right.” Vesper settled back in her chair. “And no, Priscilla’s not leaving. I think you inspired her. She wants to play in the tournament.”
“Oh?” Nova laughed. “I hope I don’t come face-to-face with her tonight. She’s formidable.”
“She’s probably feeling that way this morning, after winning two million at craps last night.”
“Two million?” Nova whistled. “Insane. Next to that, most of the tournament games will be small potatoes.”
“I just hope she enjoys herself and stays long enough to lose back everything she won.”
Nova laughed and began to stack the dishes in the sink. For the next few minutes, Vesper couldn’t stop watching as Nova moved competently and efficiently around the kitchen. She looked as though she had cooked a hundred meals in it, instead of just one. Her arms rippled as she washed the plates, and when she raised the skillet to return it to the cabinet above the stove, the hem of her tank top rose, exposing a tan strip of skin. Vesper’s mouth went dry at the memory of Nova’s firm body moving over hers, and her fingers trembled as she took a sip of lukewarm coffee.
“So,” Nova said into the silence, drying her hands on the dishtowel. “You never told me what happened with Biz last night.”
Vesper looked down at the floor, not trusting her instinctual defenses when it came to Biz and all the baggage he dredged up. Then she remembered that Nova already knew most of her story, and she let out her breath on a long sigh. When she looked up, Nova was leaning against the counter, staring at her intently.
“Tell me,” she said softly. “It’s okay.”
Vesper thought about dissembling. She was good at it. Nova might not be able to tell. But what was the point? If she was really going to try to run Biz out of Valhalla, she needed a plan. Maybe one would become clear to her
if she used Nova as a sounding board.
“He was drunk when he got in,” she said as matter-of-factly as she could. “And touchy-feely. The two seem to go together with him.”
Nova suddenly had a stranglehold on the dishtowel. “Did he put his hands on you?”
Something in her tone made Vesper want to sidestep the question. “He threatened me, and—”
“He what?” Nova was at her side before she could blink, looming over her, face mottled in anger.
Vesper squared her shoulders and pointed to the empty chair. This wasn’t the reaction she needed, and she was going to nip it right in the bud. “Sit down, and I’ll tell you. But only if you don’t interrupt and you don’t get crazy.”
“Cra—” Nova must have seen the truth in her face, because she held up both hands and sank into the seat. “Okay. I’m sorry. He…threatened you. Goddammit.”
“Yes. He did. He told me that if I didn’t continue on as his host, he would leave Valhalla for a different casino.”
“Good! Great, even!” Nova must have realized that she was on the verge of becoming melodramatic, because she paused. “I interrupted. Sorry.”
“He also said he would take a lot of people with him. For years, the Hamiltons have brought me business, but Biz claims he can convince most of his colleagues to abandon Valhalla.”
“Do you think he’s telling the truth?”
The multimillion-dollar question. Vesper shrugged, wanting to seem cavalier, even if she wasn’t. “I don’t know. I do know that I won’t take the risk.”
“So you’re just going to let him—” Nova clamped her lips together, but her eyes beseeched Vesper not to make deals with people like Biz.
“I’m not going to let him do anything.” She took the napkin from her lap and began to smooth out its wrinkles. “Jeremy told me that Biz has been asking about drugs. If I can catch him in the act, I might be able to justify having him kicked out of Valhalla.”
“Catch him in the act?” Nova’s voice had lost its shrillness, but her hands were clasped so tightly together that her knuckles had turned white. “How are you going to do that?”
“I don’t know yet.” Vesper reached across the table and gently pried Nova’s palms apart. “I’ll need to keep a close eye on him, which won’t exactly be pleasant. But at least as his host, I’ll have the access I need.”
“Access is exactly what I’m worried about.” Nova looked down at the tabletop, clearly wrestling with how much to say. “What if he assaults you again?”
“I’m going to be careful and smart. I won’t ever be alone with him.” Vesper dipped each thumb into the center of Nova’s hands and began to rub gentle circles against her skin. “You need to trust that I can handle this. It comes with the territory, sometimes.”
“This kind of thing has happened before?”
“Not quite to this degree, but yes—I’ve had a few persistent clients in the past.”
Vesper noted with satisfaction that her impromptu massage seemed to be working. Nova’s shoulders had dropped two inches, and her eyes were taking on a dreamy haze. In that moment, Vesper wanted nothing more than to drag her back into bed and spend the rest of the day there. But she had to go. Priscilla would be waiting.
Leaning across the table, she kissed Nova lightly. “I can take care of myself. And speaking of which: it’s time for me to go to work.”
“I know you can.” Nova sounded almost mournful as Vesper moved away. “Believe me, I know. But you can’t blame me for wanting to help.”
I want that, too, Vesper might have said. The words rolled across her tongue, but she swallowed them back. “You’re sweet,” she said instead, glancing briefly over her shoulder before closing the bedroom door.
*
Nova riffled the few chips remaining to her, hoping their weight in her palm and their quiet plinking would stave off the panic threatening at the edge of her mind. She was losing. Badly. The second day of the eight-handed no limit hold ’em event was almost over, but she didn’t have enough chips to make it through the end of this round. By now, the blinds and antes were steep enough that she would bust out in five hands.
It took a supreme force of will not to look at her cards. She knew what they were—the ace of spades and eight of diamonds—and checking them again would send a message of uncertainty to her opponents. She should have gone all in before the flop since she wasn’t likely to get a better hand with her dwindling stack. But her distraction led her to just call the ante. Oh well, she’d get to see a cheap flop, at least. Struggling to seem as disinterested as it was possible to be with a short stack, she stared off into the distance in an effort to find some serenity and wished her iPod hadn’t failed a few hours ago. The sound of the ocean in her ears hadn’t instantly transformed her into Doyle Brunson, but it had been comforting.
She had no one to blame but herself. Last night, she’d been so eager to get Vesper naked that she had forgotten to charge any of her electronic devices. Not that she really cared. On their way home from the first day of the tournament, she’d been careful not to put any pressure on Vesper, and once they arrived at the apartment, she had diligently begun to turn down the sofa bed. Only after Vesper had asked what the hell she was doing and then proceeded to drag her into the bedroom had Nova given her own desire free rein. They hadn’t slept until the first gray fingers of predawn were fumbling at the base of the mountains, and they had woken only a few hours later, legs still entwined.
Nova smiled at the memory before she remembered the necessity of maintaining a poker face. But even if she lost the entirety of her five-thousand-dollar buy-in over the next few minutes, she wouldn’t regret last night. Once again, Vesper hadn’t said much, but the responsiveness of her body more than made up for her reticence.
Fighting the urge to look around the room for her, Nova continued to slide the chips through her fingers. The flop shattered her musings. Ace of clubs, nine of hearts, jack of clubs. She blinked down at it as her brain shifted gears, automatically cataloguing her probability of success. Flopping a pair of aces was good, but that nine could be a problem, and two clubs on the board were worrisome. But the reality was that her time—and chips—had run out. It was time to move all-in. Would she get any takers or would her bold move scare everyone out?
She got her answer when the young, athletic guy across the table from her in the backward baseball cap and tight Raiders T-shirt threw twice as much money into the pot as was stacked before her. Without hesitation, she moved the remainder of her chips into the center. This was it. Sink or swim.
The remaining players mucked their cards, making way for a showdown. Nova was relieved not to have to try to pretend anymore. With a shrug, she flipped over her cards. Her opponent grinned and revealed the ace of diamonds and nine of clubs. He had two pair; she had one. The only way for her to win was if both the turn and the river came up eights. With a ruthless efficiency, her brain calculated the odds of success: point-three percent. Winning might be out of the question, but she could still hope for a tie. The odds were still slim—two point nine three percent that the turn and river would be a pair higher than nine—but at least it was something to cling to.
Nova’s vision telescoped as she focused on the dealer’s hands, moving swiftly as he burned a card and turned over the next: the ten of diamonds, more precious in this moment than the gem it was named for. Winning had just become impossible, but her chance of a tie had just nearly doubled, to six point eight two percent. With some luck, they would split the pot and she would be granted a stay of execution.
Again, the dealer burned a card. Nova held her breath, her only thought a silent plea. But Lady Luck proved deaf when the king of spades appeared, staring up at her implacably from his bed of felt. Fitting, that he should arrive to bury her. She exhaled slowly, then stood and extended her hand to the player who was gathering up the dregs of her chip stack.
“Nice one. Thanks, all. See you ’round.”
Just like that,
it was over. She had nothing to show for her two full days of play except cramped hamstrings and a five-thousand-dollar hole in her bank account. Not that she had expected to win this particular event, but it was discouraging that she hadn’t even made it to the halfway point. If she wasn’t going to get a bracelet, she at least needed to progress far enough to make her money back.
As she made her way past the throng of onlookers and reporters, her concern for Vesper rushed back to the fore of her mind. Her phone’s battery was down to the slimmest fraction of red, and once she found a place to stand at the edge of the room, she typed as quickly as her fumbling thumbs would allow. Busted out. How r u doing? What can I do to help?
Knowing that if Vesper was with a client, she wouldn’t reply, Nova sent a text to TJ, too. He might have a better sense of where she was. Busted out. U? Clutching her phone in one hand, she began to make her way slowly around the periphery of the room, scanning its occupants for a glimpse of the light blue suit she had watched Vesper put on this morning.
Same, a while ago, TJ replied. Watching Mac @ media table.
As far as she knew, Mac was the highest-profile professional who had decided to enter this event. It made sense that his table would be featured by the media. Without any word from Vesper, she might as well join TJ. Mac had been kind to her, and now that she was out of the running, she would be happy to cheer him on. Maybe she’d even learn something from watching him in tournament play.
The closer she got, the thicker the crowd became. Fortunately, she spotted TJ quickly and made her way over to the corner where he had staked out a place along the rail. He grinned when he saw her and pulled her into a one-armed hug.
“Hi,” she said. “Sorry you got knocked out. Is your dad still in the mix?”
TJ laughed and shook his head. “He didn’t make it past the second round today.” Craning his neck, he looked around. “He was watching with me for a while but decided to go to bed.”
Nova gestured toward the game unfolding under the portable lights. Their heat made the air shimmer like a mirage. “How’s Mac doing?”
