Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2)

by Cheri Allan

  So good, she thought, her hands sliding up to pull his head closer. He tasted, felt so good. Never before had she felt so blissfully whole, so complete simply from touching her lips to a man’s.

  Except once.

  Carter melded their mouths, his lips soft yet firm, light touches following searing pressure. Liz sighed into his mouth and learned his brilliant smile all over again in a way she’d never dreamed possible but had dreamed about a thousand times.

  She didn’t want it to end. She wanted to be this woman who could kiss and be kissed with such deep passion her entire life.

  Heaven help her, she wanted.

  Another small moan of pleasure escaped her as his hands slid, hot and firm down her back to cup her rear. Then he pressed her against the kitchen table—the same kitchen table she’d eaten pancakes at as a girl—and she realized with a hint of excited alarm that she was picturing them on that same table.

  She pulled him to her. Hard.

  Carter grunted in surprise and tried to pull back, but Liz would have none of that. Not now. No, now that she’d decided to be this new woman, there was no turning back. Gripping his head with one hand and his right buttocks with the other, she held him tight, nipped his bottom lip with her teeth.

  And grinned.

  “You’re right. Two,” she said.

  HE CHUCKLED AGAINST her lips. He knew she was smiling. He could feel the curve of her lips under his own, but the sensation of her wide, soft lips curving against his fought for supremacy in a riot of sensations from the rasp of her jeans against his thigh, to the surge of desire pulsing through his veins.

  He had no idea how they’d gone from contemplating pizza to practically sprawling on the kitchen table, but it was beyond his capacity to think about anything other than that wicked gleam in her hazel eyes or the light nip she’d just given him.

  He didn’t know this Liz. The Liz he’d known was lovely, appealing. Predictable.

  This Liz was sensual. Passionate. Focused in a way that was uniquely Liz but bowling him over with heat and intensity.

  She was a fire in his hands, in his blood, and he struggled to keep up with the need that flashed hot and bright within him, seemed matched by her own breathless assault.

  His lips hovered over hers. “What are we doing?” he gasped between kisses. “I’m covered in paint.”

  “Me, too.” She giggled and squirmed and Carter lost the will to protest as she pulled off his battered, paint-spattered ball cap and tossed it in the corner.

  He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Somehow taking Liz Beacon on her kitchen table didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem real. He looked around for a slightly more padded surface. “We should stop. Or pause...”

  “No.”

  He laughed then, relishing the give of her body as he pressed himself into her soft curves. Just no. She didn’t ask why they should stop. She didn’t agree with him. She’d simply stated in that firm, business-like, Liz Beacon way, ‘no.’ And, how could he argue with that?

  “Take off your shirt,” she ordered hoarsely, fumbling with his fly.

  His eyebrow arched at her command, but he grinned, too. Picking her up despite her squeal of surprise, he sat her on the edge of the table, toed off his sneakers and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He was still half-dressed, but he felt more naked than he ever had in his life.

  She was quiet, her lips full and pink and well-kissed as she stared at the bulge in his shorts. Then her eyes flashed up to his and he saw the moment of uncertainty there.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he said.

  Christ, could they? Suddenly he realized heavy petting was all they’d be doing if she wasn’t prepared. And why would she be? It wasn’t as if she’d been expecting him to jump her bones on the kitchen table while the paint dried on their brushes.

  Great. Now, he was a half-naked horny guy with an obvious erection, and she was probably wondering how she got herself into this. He bent to rebutton his cargo shorts.

  She reached out a hand to stop him. “Don’t.”

  “I don’t have anything on me,” he said. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something.

  “Are you clean?”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  She blushed furiously, her cheeks brilliant as she repeated the question. “I know you tend to be fairly popular with women. I just...”

  “I’m clean,” he said. “And the rumors of my popularity are highly inflated.” He gave her a look. “I’m careful,” he said, when he saw she wasn’t amused.

  “I’m sorry, but these days you have to ask.”

  He tipped her chin until she’d meet his eyes again. “You?”

  She laughed, a self-conscious burst. “Are you kidding? I’d have to have sex—” but she cut herself off before finishing the sentence. “I mean, it’s not that I’m— I mean, I’ve had sex…”

  Carter stroked her arm with his fingertips and chuckled. “I’m not thinking you’re frigid if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m more thinking I’m standing here thinking thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking because I’ve got no way to follow through on them.”

  “I have protection,” she blurted. “In my purse.” They looked at her purse on the window sill. “So we can. If you want to.”

  “You have to ask?”

  But, she didn’t laugh. Instead she let out a long breath and glanced out the slider, her arms across her chest. “I’m sorry. This is so awkward now.”

  Carter nodded. “You’ve changed your mind. That’s cool.” He reached for his shirt.

  “No!” She protested. “It’s just... the whole responsible conversation kind of takes the wind out of the sails of being irresponsible, doesn’t it?” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

  “You want to be irresponsible.”

  “Responsibly, yes.”

  He grinned. “Strangely, I think I understood that. Okay, how about we do something to put us back in the mood?”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. A game?”

  “A game.”

  “Isn’t that what horny teenagers do? Truth or Dare? Spin the Bottle?”

  “We’re not thirteen.”

  “Don’t look so skeptical. It’ll work. Truth or Dare. Have you ever played?”

  “No.”

  “Then it’s about time.” He winked. “But I’ll be nice. I’ll let you go first.”

  “How does this work?” All business, she started to slide off the table. Carter stopped her with a kiss.

  When he finally pulled back, she had that lightly flushed but wary look back in her eyes. Progress. “You ask whether I want a truth or dare and I pick one,” he instructed.

  “Okay. Truth or dare?”

  “Truth. Now ask me a question.”

  She frowned slightly, little furrows forming on her brow as she thought. He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the clean, sweet scent of her. “Is today the first time you’ve thought about kissing me?”

  “No. My turn.”

  “When was the first time?” she demanded, pulling back enough to make eye contact.

  “Uh-uh. I already answered your question. Your turn now. Truth or dare?”

  She pouted, but answered anyway. “Truth.”

  “Is today the first time you’ve thought of having sex with me?”

  Her eyes flew to his. Maybe he’d pushed too far. It was hard to know where the boundaries were with a woman who was splayed on the kitchen table one moment and biting her lip nervously the next. “Let me rephrase that. Is today the first time you’ve thought of having sex with me on your kitchen table?”

  She smiled shyly, the sexy heat now returning to her eyes. Better. “Yes. Truth or dare?”

  “Dare.”

  “You’ll do anything I want?”

  “Or I have to answer a truth.”

  “Are you sure this is the way the game is supposed to be played?”

  Her fingertips fiddled with the waistband of his shorts, t
he unconscious movement driving him crazy with desire. But he didn’t draw her attention to it. He didn’t want her to stop. He grinned instead. “Would I make up my own rules? Besides, it’s not like there are ‘truth or dare’ police out there. We make our own rules. So tell me. What’s my dare?”

  “Okay. I dare you to do a striptease for me.”

  Carter glanced at himself wryly. “It’ll be short-lived entertainment.”

  “Do you want a truth instead?”

  “Do I get music?”

  She smiled and pushed at his chest. “Stop stalling.”

  Carter started humming, a self-conscious, ridiculous base beat and gave it his all.

  For her part, she was an appreciative audience and was blushing furiously even though he was the one standing completely naked in the middle of her kitchen.

  “I’m feeling a little ridiculous,” he confessed.

  “You don’t look ridiculous,” she said.

  “Maybe not, but you’re definitely looking overdressed.”

  She licked her lips and toed off her sneakers. Smiled mischievously. His body answered the look in her eyes as he stepped toward her, his pulse thudding in his ears. “My turn. Another truth.”

  “I don’t get to choose?”

  “We make our own rules, remember?” He stood apart from her, not touching, the tension, awareness, as palpable as any contact with her bare skin. The air in his lungs grew thick.

  Her eyes darkened.

  “Okay. Truth,” she said.

  “Close your eyes,” he commanded.

  “That’s not a question.”

  He stepped closer still, until he could feel as much as hear her quick intake of breath. “No, that’s just the first part.”

  “A multi-part question? No fair. I think that’s a different game.” But she closed her eyes, nonetheless.

  “It’s not about playing fair,” he whispered. “It’s about playing to win.”

  She opened one eye. “There’s a winner?”

  He smoothed her eye closed with the pad of his thumb. “Shh. If we play it right, we both win. Now for part two. Ready?”

  She nodded even though he noticed her nervous swallow. “Ready.”

  Carter leaned close, so close his lips grazed her ear. She smelled so good. Delicious. “Tell me your favorite candy.”

  “Twizzlers.” She said, smiling softly.

  “What a coincidence,” he said, a rush of something sweet and innocent flooding his senses. “Mine, too. Now. Tell me about your first kiss.”

  “That’s not a question, either,” she said, her eyes popping open. “You’re very bad at this.”

  He rubbed his thumb over her cheek again, enjoying the way her chest rose and fell in shallow, eager breaths. “Oh, but it is. You see, I want the truth. No holding back. All the details. Got it?”

  She swallowed again. “And then what?”

  He smiled to dazzle. “We both win.”

  She closed her eyes and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t say a thing, but then her lips began to move and his entire body focused on the whispered words caressing his bare skin.

  And he was a horny teenager all over again.

  After she spoke, she went perfectly still, her eyes closed, as if she were afraid of his response.

  And suddenly the game was over as her eyes met his, all flirtation gone, replaced with a raw hunger that matched his own. Another hot rush of fire to his groin made it impossible to speak even if he’d wanted to. His hands tangled with hers at the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head, his fingers fumbling with the clasp of her bra as she pushed down her jeans. “Here. Let me,” she murmured, pushing his hands away. Then her breasts were free, lovely and firm, as she bent to skim her panties to the floor.

  When she stood again, the uncertainty was back in her eyes. He could see her thinking. Worrying. Wondering.

  “Stop thinking so much,” he chided her. “This is supposed to be fun.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “Sex?” he teased gently.

  “No,” she blushed. “This.”

  “You mean sex on a kitchen table? It’s easy, really, only a little harder.”

  “Don’t you feel a bit silly? We’re in broad daylight. Anyone could walk to the back slider and see us standing here in our altogether. What would they think?”

  “That we were really hungry? Because I know I am.” He pressed forward, flesh against flesh, heat against heat. Her hands came up to press against his chest and splayed there. His heart hammered against her palm. He’d never felt so relaxed and excited all at the same time.

  “I’ve never had sex anywhere but in a bed,” she confessed.

  “Then we have some work ahead of us. There are floors, shower stalls, grassy meadows...”

  “How do you know you’ll want to do it again?”

  “Good lord, Liz. I already want to do it again and we haven’t done it once. Stop talking and touch me.”

  “I am touching you.” She peered down at her fingers.

  “I mean really touch me.”

  “Can I kiss you first?”

  “God, yes.”

  Her lips brushed his, the softest most tantalizing caress that sent heat spiraling to his toes. He groaned and leaned into her.

  “I just don’t want to get it wrong,” she murmured against his lips.

  “Honey, the only way to get it wrong would be to tell me to stop.” And with that he lifted her to the table again and kissed her like the first time.

  “I DON’T WANT TO BREAK the mood, but can we get that pizza now? I’m hungry.”

  Carter’s lips tilted in a lazy grin. “I thought you’d never ask.” He rolled onto his side and slid his finger down her bare arm.

  In the end they’d moved to the living room; although, now that she had rug burns in unmentionable places, Liz was only sorry the table hadn’t seemed up to the task after all.

  “Do you think we broke it?” she asked.

  “I think I’m all right.”

  She swatted him playfully. “I meant the table.”

  He grinned and leaned forward to press a lazy kiss just north of her breast. “Nothing that can’t be fixed. Just need to tighten a couple bolts, I think, and we’ll be good to go.”

  She could feel her face warm. “I really am hungry.”

  “In a minute. You have gorgeous breasts, you know that? You should dress this way more often.”

  “You mean naked?” She laughed and felt the heat of a blush again, though she wouldn’t have moved away from the warm brush of his lips for the world.

  “Mmm. Suits you.” He sighed and gave her breast one last peck before sliding up her torso and pinning her to the rug.

  She looked into his gorgeous green eyes. Wow. She’d just made love to Carter MacIntyre. Correction. She’d just fallen in love with him.

  The breath froze in her chest.

  He frowned slightly. “You okay?”

  “Yeah. Yes,” she lied, forcing a smile. “Just, um, hungry.”

  Keep it light she counseled herself. She needed to get dressed. She needed to think. Oh God, she felt so naked, like every single emotion was laid bare for all to see.

  “I’ll get that pizza.”

  “Great idea,” she said striving for a bright, relaxed, post-coital air. She scurried toward the kitchen for her clothes. Carter trailed her, naked, looking more glorious than any man had a right to.

  She pulled on her jeans and shirt, needing to cover herself again as she tried to avoid staring at his body. If she looked at him again she’d probably blurt something out, like her undying love, and then embarrass them both. He’d signed up for sex not a china pattern.

  Keep it casual, she told herself. Feel him out. “So, that was… something,” she said.

  His lips twitched as he pulled on his boxer briefs. “Mmm.” He said, stepping closer. He smiled. “Tell me why we never did that before? I’m feeling a little annoyed we’ve wast
ed all this time.” He picked up his shorts and stood in front of her, bare-chested, the light smattering of dark hair there making her woman bits stand up and take notice most inconveniently.

  Her heart fluttered happily in her chest. “We’re here now,” she said.

  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her. “Not nearly enough time. When do you have to go back?”

  Her heart skittered. “About a week.”

  His eyes went dark as he looked at her mouth. “Then we’ll just have to make the most of the next seven days, won’t we?”

  She let him kiss her again as his words sank into her like a cold rain. Seven days. That’s all he saw between them. And why would he see anything else? Oh Lord, and how could it be anything else?

  She trembled as his lips pulled from hers.

  He nudged her chin with his knuckle until she met his eyes.

  “No regrets?” he asked.

  “No regrets,” she said, forcing a smile.

  “Good. I don’t want to hurt you.” His lips tilted. “I can do that sometimes without meaning to.” He brushed the hair from her temple.

  She sucked in a breath and forced herself to keep breathing. “I’m a big girl, Carter. You don’t have to tiptoe around the fact that we’re having a fling.”

  His hand stilled. “A fling?”

  She waved her hand dismissively. “Hook-up. Friends with Benefits. Whatever you want to call it. I get it. You don’t have to give me ‘the talk.’” And she’d repeat that message over and over until her heart heard it loud and clear.

  “A fling,” he said again, pulling away to put on his shorts.

  “Yes, well, what I mean is... nothing serious. Just casual sex.”

  “Nothing serious,” he repeated, zipping his fly with a yank.

  “Absolutely. I mean, we both know I’m only here a few more days, and then I’m headed back to Chicago. I have a job—a life—there.”

  “Right.” He stared at her, and she swallowed, wishing he’d contradict her, praying he’d stop and tell her she was wrong, that it wasn’t just sex.

  But then his lips titled in a half smile. “I’m glad we’re on the same page. Okay, I suppose I should get that pizza.” And then he was tugging his T-shirt over his head, slipping on his sneakers and striding to the door as if her heart weren’t breaking into a million, shattering pieces.