Power Play: The Complete Collection

by Selena Kitt

  “We’ll let it ride, Mr. Cole,” the dealer said with a smile, sliding the chips all back onto the pass line. Just that action made Jodie feel a little ill. “Ninety on the pass.”

  “Holy fuck,” Kimber whispered beside her. “Jodie, if you crap out…”

  “Shut up.” Jodie nudged her, throwing her a withering glance. “Don’t you dare jinx me!”

  But there was no such thing as luck, right? It was all math—statistics. So what were the chances that she could keep rolling and winning? The casino would know the odds.

  Oh my god, that’s why they let him make the bet. They knew he was going to lose!

  “Dorian…” It was the first time she’d said his name out loud and it felt good, right, in her mouth. “Maybe you shouldn’t…”

  “Let’s ride it out.” He shifted against her, so damned hard she actually made a little noise in her throat at the feel of him. “Isn’t it exciting?”

  Nodding, she had to admit, it was. In so very many ways.

  “Seven or eleven,” he reminded her softly once bets were placed and the dice were pushed their way, but she knew.

  She was already telling the dice what she wanted them to do in her head as she picked them up off the felt in one hand. She saw several people were betting against her. It wasn’t just possible that she would throw craps—it had to be more than a probability. Ninety thousand dollars. That much money could have paid her college loans with enough left over to buy a small house.

  “Win, Jodie.”

  Oh my god, her name, he said her name and it moved over her like a caress. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and threw the dice. She imagined them bouncing off the “rubber alligator,” as the stick man had described the corrugated rubber backing on each end of the table, bouncing, landing…

  “YO! Eleven!”

  Kimber screamed so loud beside her Jodie thought she might have actually gone deaf in her right ear for a minute. The girls jumped up and down like little kids and everyone surrounding the table cheered. The only people who grumbled were the people who had bet against her. Dorian laughed, turning her in his arms and planting a very big kiss on her lips in the excitement.

  She broke it off quickly, too afraid of what Kimber and the triplets would say, but the memory of his mouth swept through her instantly, turning her legs to Jell-O and her nipples to glass, and she wanted more. More, more, more.

  “Can you do it again?” His eyes brightened.

  She laughed. “I’m not a miracle worker.”

  “Can’t let that ride, sir,” the dealer informed him. He was already on the phone and he didn’t look happy.

  “Well I can’t bet against you.” Dorian gathered his chips, once again doubled in size. “You want me to sit this one out?”

  “Yeah.” Jodie nodded, frowning at the table. “I just have a bad feeling…”

  Kimber overheard, leaning over to tell Lauren and the rest of the girls.

  “Well your instincts have been right so far.” Dorian took seven of his chips and put them in the “don’t pass” field.

  “Betting against the shooter?” The stick man raised his bushy eyebrows, so thick they almost matched his mustache, but the dealer placed the bet.

  “I’ll sit this one out,” Kimber said, counting up the chips sitting in her rack in front of her. All of the girls had made a ton of money but they were following Kimber’s lead, holding back from placing any more bets.

  “Want to make a little side wager?” He waggled his eyebrows at Jodie when she turned her head to look at him. His arms around her waist felt perfectly comfortable now. “Make it even more exciting?”

  “What kind of wager?”

  “How about…” He slid his hands over her hips, smiling slyly. “If you crap out, you take another selfie with me. My choice of time and place.”

  She looked at him, considering. “And if I don’t crap out?”

  “You keep that.” He nodded at the pile of chips—minus his thirty-five thousand dollar bet on craps—still sitting on the table.

  “Oh no. No way.” She felt the blood drain from her face at the thought of that kind of money. “I can’t take that.”

  “Why not? You earned it, shooter.” He laughed. “Besides, if you’re right and you crap out, you won’t have to take it.”

  Jodie blinked at the pile of chips and tried to imagine how her life would change if she had that kind of money. And then she remembered that incredible kiss, his hands on her ass, mouth slanting across hers, and the heat that flooded her at the memory was enough to turn her cheeks rosy. She turned away from Dorian, not wanting him to see her flushed face, watching chips being tossed everywhere on the table. Word had spread about the lucky shooter.

  Before she knew it, the dice were back in front of her again and she picked them up in one hand, not sure what she should ask for. If she threw a seven or eleven, Dorian would insist on giving her the money he’d made on her rolls. If she crapped out, he’d double his thirty-five thousand dollar bet on the table—and he’d win a selfie of the two of them, taken whenever, wherever he wanted.

  She tingled all over at that, wondering what he was up to—but she knew the general direction he was going, considering the way he pulled her into the saddle of his hips as they stood at the table, two puzzle pieces, almost but not quite fitting together. Just a little nudge, and then…

  “What do you want me to roll?” she glanced back at him, feeling the eyes of everyone at the table trained on her. The casino was still loud, lively, but the table was quiet, waiting for her.

  “I want you.” His whispered words made her breath catch in her throat, his fingers digging into her hipbones. “And I intend to have you—no matter what you roll.”

  She threw the dice, not caring what they came up, knowing that either way, she won. Turning, she snaked her arms around his neck before pressing her lips to his. She wanted him to know—she wanted him too. There was nothing else in the world she wanted more, nothing else she could think about. It could have been all the drinks, or the excitement of rolling the dice, winning all that money, but it wasn’t any of that. This man, this Dorian Cole, wanted her—her, Jodie Miller. She was desirable, wanted. After everything that had happened over the past week, that was enough.

  The moment their mouths met, she was lost again, just like she had been before. Jodie moaned as his tongue touched hers, not gentle but insistent, mimicking the motion she knew he wanted to be making between her legs, a hot, desperate rut. His hands moved from her lower back to her hips, stilling her tiny thrusts as he broke their kiss. She looked at him, breathless, her chest heaving.

  “Snake eyes!” the stick man called out. She heard the hint of relief in his voice, and the way he tried to cover that up.

  “I’m so glad I didn’t bet!” Kimber exclaimed.

  Jodie came back slowly, leaning against Dorian as he collected his seventy thousand dollars in chips. She’d crapped out. Her run as the shooter was over. She’d disappointed them all. But none of that mattered, because she’d won. She’d won the most important thing, the thing she’d wanted most. And it had taken the roll of the dice to make her realize what it was she really wanted.

  “Forty minutes of rolling without a devil, sweetheart.” The stick man dropped her a wink. “That was a hell of a run.”

  Dorian cashed out, tipping the dealers, and Kimber yanked Jodie’s arm, pulling her aside. She barely had enough time to grab her little clutch off the ledge. At the table, the game continued on, a new shooter taking up the dice at the other end.

  “What the hell, Jodie?” Kimber tried to drag her away, the triplets and Lauren surrounding her. “You broke up with Jason? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s going on?”

  “I—” Jodie wobbled in Kimber’s too-tight heels, realizing for the first time in almost an hour how much her feet hurt. It was too much to try to explain right there in the middle of the casino floor. Although, it wasn’t, not really. Jason had cheated—had continued to lie and ch
eat, in spite of his regretful pleas—and she’d broken up with him. It wasn’t complicated. It was actually very simple. Painfully, horribly simple.

  “You’re drunk.” Kimber announced, shaking her head, trying unsuccessfully to pull her away, but Jodie wasn’t budging. “You can’t go with him, you know.”

  “It’s not a good idea,” Lauren said. The triplet girls agreed, pestering Jodie about how unsafe, how crazy, how insane it was to consider—well, whatever she was considering.

  “Ladies.” Dorian Cole interrupted their little hen pecking with a smile and an arm around Jodie’s shoulders. He looked down at her. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She nodded, looking back at Kimber. “You guys, I… I’ll call you.”

  She realized she had no idea where they were going—although she had some vague idea and hoped it would involve a bed.

  “Jodie…” Kimber frowned, her hand still on Jodie’s arm, but she was looking at Dorian.

  “It’s okay, Kimber,” Lauren intervened. “Jodie’s a big girl. I’m sure she can handle herself.”

  Kimber still looked doubtful but let go. Jodie gave Lauren a thank-you smile, mouthing, ‘Owe you one!’ She knew that would probably involve reading Lauren’s book but hey, she could live with that. And who knew? Maybe her current run of luck would hold out and she’d discover the next new writer phenom. That was always the best part of her job, after all.

  “I promise, she’ll be safe with me.” Dorian gave Kimber a reassuring smile, guiding Jodie away from the gaggle of girls. She followed willingly, waving over her shoulder at them. She felt a little bad, leaving Kimber on their last night of her bachelorette party—but she had a feeling Kimber would understand, given the circumstances.

  “Do you have to cash in your chips?” she asked, trying to keep up with his long stride.

  “Nah, I’m good. I’ve got a player’s card.” They walked out of the casino into the foyer, past the shops with the huge Roman statue fountain in the center. “They wanted to comp me but I’m staying at the Palms.”

  “Is that where we’re going?” she asked as they stepped out into the night air. It was nice, cool but not cold.

  Dorian smiled, handing a ticket to the valet before turning and taking her into his arms.

  “I need to get you somewhere private,” he murmured into her hair, nuzzling her neck, hands roaming over the curves barely concealed by her dress. Well, Lauren’s dress. She had a feeling that fifteen hundred dollar piece of material was going to be on the floor of Dorian Cole’s hotel room before she knew it. And Jodie was so titillated by that prospect she was shaking.

  “Cold?” He pulled her closer still, kissing her neck, her collarbone, breathing in her scent.

  Jodie heard his car before she saw it, but his mouth had found hers and she was lost again.

  “Sir?”

  Dorian broke the kiss, grabbing the keys from the valet. “Get in.”

  Jodie gaped as the valet held the door open to Batman’s car. She got into the matte black Bugatti, a little two-seater, beside Dorian and the valet closed the door behind her. The interior was black too, reinforcing the feeling that she was riding with Batman—and when she looked over at his profile as he popped the clutch and shifted into gear, she actually wondered for a moment who he was and what, exactly, she was doing.

  Then her phone vibrated in her purse.

  “Put your seatbelt on,” he said, glancing over to see her pulling her phone out of her clutch.

  Jodie did as he asked, gasping as the car came to life, hugging the curved entryway of Caesar’s Palace as he zipped around the stopped traffic.

  “Is that him?” Dorian took the corner, shifting into the straightaway like he was planning to fly.

  “Yeah.” Jodie saw text message after text message from Jason, and four voice messages, all of which she must have missed while they were playing craps.

  WTF Jodie? Who the hell is that?

  He must have received the picture she sent of her and Dorian. She didn’t even want to check her messages. But she did click over to Facebook and when she tried to log in, he’d changed the password. Of course he had—he had plenty to hide. Probably more half-nude pictures of Nicole.

  Asshole.

  “Stop.” Dorian’s hand massaged her shoulder, her bare neck, under her hair. “Look at me.”

  Jodie dropped her phone into her clutch, zipping it back up and looked over at him, trying not to cry. It was stupid, crying over Jason, considering everything she knew—all the pictures, all the texts, all the Facebook messages and, of course, the flight he’d taken to Missouri for the “funeral of an old friend” that had actually been Jason’s weekend fuckfest with Nicole.

  “I’m going to make you forget he ever existed.” His eyes darkened as he looked at her, gaze dropping from her cleavage to her hemline. “He made the biggest mistake of his life when he cheated on a woman like you.”

  The way he looked at her, talked to her, made her feel desired and wanted in a way she hadn’t felt in—my god, years! And she realized it was something she was craving, and maybe Dorian Cole was taking advantage of that, but she really didn’t care. She wanted to get lost in him again. She needed it more than she could possibly say, and he seemed to know it.

  “You already have.” Jodie crossed one leg over the other—her feet were throbbing in Kimber’s too-small shoes—and saw his gaze skip down to the hemline of her dress, riding high up on her thigh.

  “I haven’t even started.” Dorian shifted the car into higher gear as they turned the corner again onto another straight away, this one with hardly any traffic. They were moving very fast—Jodie didn’t even want to see the speedometer.

  His hand moved from the gearshift to her knee. Jodie shifted in the little seat—there wasn’t a lot of room—turning her body toward him. She saw him smile, a slow, sexy smile that spread as he slid his hand up her bare thigh, pushing the dress almost all the way up.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

  “It’s the dress.” Jodie squirmed in her seat. His hand was hot, burning her thigh, but he didn’t move it any higher, and she really kind of wanted him to. Her pussy was throbbing, panties shamefully wet. “Versace. Fifteen hundred dollars. And it’s not even mine.”

  “It’s not the dress.” He pulled the Bugatti into the Palms, getting out and handing the valet the keys.

  This time it was Dorian who opened her door and gave her a hand out. She followed him into the hotel, which was far more opulent and much less pretentious than Caesar’s.

  “So you’re in Vegas for a bachelorette party.” He led her through the lobby, around the corner to an elevator, but there was no button to push on it.

  “Yeah. That, and I’m supposed to be on Pawn Stars tomorrow—you know that show?”

  “What are you selling?” He raised his eyebrows, pulling out his wallet.

  “Don Quixote. First edition. I found it in my grandmother’s stuff.”

  “That’s worth quite a chunk of change.” He gave a low whistle as he ran a card through a reader on the elevator. It opened immediately.

  “You know books?” She blinked in surprise as they got in. “A private elevator?”

  “I know rare and precious things,” he countered, grabbing her hips and pulling her slowly toward him. “Have you ever been fucked in an elevator?”

  “No.” She shook her head, putting her arms around his neck. His hair was irresistible. It curled around her fingers at the nape of his neck. “Do you recommend it?”

  “Well, it is a private elevator…”

  The elevator stopped, the doors opening, and Jodie nearly screamed when a man dressed in a tuxedo met them as they stepped out. Instead, she grabbed Dorian’s arm, stepping toward him so they were hip to hip. He slid an arm around her waist.

  “Good evening, sir.” The tuxedoed man actually gave a little bow. “Can I take your coat?”

  Oh my god, he was Batman. He even had an Alfred! Although this Alfred was
n’t an old man—he was young, probably her age.

  “Hey Andrew.” Dorian shrugged off his suit coat and handed it over. Okay, Andrew, not Alfred. But still! “You can have the night off. But first—how about some food?”

  He turned to Jodie, eyes questioning. She nodded enthusiastically. She hadn’t eaten since the dinner buffet and, at the time, she hadn’t been very hungry. But now she was ravenous.

  “What do you want? Steak? Burger? Tofu?” Dorian asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

  “No tofu.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste, asking Andrew, “Do you have waffles?”

  He nodded. “Best chicken and waffles in the state.”

  “Oh that sounds awesome!” Now her mouth was watering. “And cupcakes. Do you have cupcakes?”

  “Yes we do,” Andrew said.

  “Bring me a steak.” Dorian loosened his tie. “And some of that lemon cake from the other night.”

  “Yes, sir,” Andrew replied. “Anything else?”

  “A bottle of champagne,” Dorian added, watching Jodie as she started wandering through the room—which wasn’t so much of a room, or even a suite, as a freaking apartment. “Chocolate covered strawberries.”

  “Yes, sir.” Andrew took the elevator down.

  “So who am I now, Julia Roberts?” she asked as Dorian joined her as she entered the living area. It had a huge, wraparound red leather couch and she nearly jumped out of her skin when Dorian flipped a switch and the gas fireplace came to life.

  “You’re not a prostitute.” He tossed his tie over the back of the couch. “And I’m no Richard Gere.”

  Well, that was true—technically she wasn’t a prostitute. Although she was starting to feel like one, a little bit.

  “So what are you doing in Vegas?” Now that she was here, in his room—suite, penthouse, hotel mansion, whatever you wanted to call it—she felt more shy, awkward.

  “Business. Investment opportunity.” He took a seat on the couch in front of the fire.

  “And gambling.” She couldn’t get over the place. It was huge! And the view of the strip all lit up out the window was dazzling.