by Ruby Steele
Forcing my eyes up to her face, and maybe taking another quick glance at her perfectly rounded tits on the way up, I meet her eyes, realizing she’s watching me, fully aware that I’m blatantly checking her out.
Way to go, asshole. So much for being more evolved than a caveman. At this rate, I might as well throw her over my shoulder with a grunt and haul her off to my room.
I have to redeem myself, and fast. I’m really not some chauvinistic jerk. Not that she could possibly know that with the way I’ve been practically fucking her with my eyes.
Forcing myself to stop thinking of her and fucking in the same beat—because hello, I don’t even know her—I smile, falling back on the charm that works every time.
“I’m Aiden.”
“Olivia.” She sticks her hand out as if she wants me to shake it. Right.
With a chuckle, I take her fingers in mine and bring them to my lips, keeping my gaze locked with hers. I catch a hint of her perfume, a heady jasmine scent, and feel another jolt of desire.
What the fuck? This woman can’t be more than twenty-four or twenty-five. Too young for me. But tell that to my dick. I can feel it stirring to life as my mouth grazes her knuckles.
“Pleasure to meet you,” I murmur, brushing my thumb over the inside of her wrist.
“Likewise,” she says, tearing her eyes from mine and pulling her hand away to open her purse and pull out a stack of hundred-dollar bills to lay on the table in exchange for chips. She looks completely unfazed by everything going on—the fact that she’s the only female in the room, that she breezed in here as if she belonged. And now she’s totally unaffected by my attention.
I look over at the dealer, who pushes the newly shuffled decks to the middle of the table and offers Olivia the card to cut the stack. She leans forward to take it, her dress riding even higher on those thighs, then sits back as she waits for him to exchange her cash for chips.
Shuffling my chips, I watch her, speculating. She looks young, but she acts like she knows what she’s doing. I’m officially intrigued.
“Here by yourself?” I take a sip of my whiskey, watching her over the rim of the glass.
Turning toward me slightly, there’s a bit of hesitation in her green eyes. But it’s gone in half a second, and she gives me a secretive smile. “I’m here with a friend.”
I notice she didn’t say boyfriend. “And will she be joining us?”
She arches a brow, still smiling mysteriously. “No. She’s on a mission.”
Just then the cocktail waitress makes her way around, and Olivia gets her attention. “Vodka tonic, please. Twist of lime.”
I gesture for her to bring me another drink as well, and I’m about to ask about this mission when the dealer asks for our bets. Olivia bites the inside of her cheek as she picks up a few chips, glancing at the minimum bet sign, and sets down three. If I wasn’t watching her so closely, I might have missed the nervous swallow.
I place ten chips on the table, and the game begins. “Play a lot of blackjack?” I ask. From the way she checked the minimum bet, I’m guessing it’s her first time at a high limit table.
She’s focused on the cards and doesn’t look at me as she answers. “It’s my first time, actually.”
“Ever?”
“Yeah,” she says, licking her lips. Then she smirks. “Just call me a virgin.”
Her answer takes me by surprise. Not what I expected to hear. First time playing and she’s putting out three-hundred-dollar bets? The dealer tosses out our second cards then looks at Olivia. She has two eights. I’m prepared to offer my advice on how she needs to play that hand when she beats me to it.
“Split,” she says immediately, setting out three more chips to split the one hand into two.
“Good move.” I look at my own cards. Ten and king. Nice. I wave my hand, indicating I don’t want another card.
She nods quickly in acknowledgment, still zeroed in on her cards. On her first hand, the dealer turns over a jack.
“Stay.” She doesn’t sound nervous at all. I’m full-on mesmerized now as I watch the game unfold. She’s a total contradiction.
On the second hand, the dealer turns over another eight. Her eyes close briefly, a barely audible sigh coming from her lips, and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes. It’s like she knows what she has to do but doesn’t want to.
She cuts her gaze at me sharply. I hold it, my brow lifting in silent question. Do you want to know what I would do?
With a quick shake of her head, she reaches for her chips. “Split.”
I sit back, taking another sip of whiskey. If she’s telling the truth and she’s never played before, this is about to get interesting.
The dealer turns over a nine. Olivia grimaces. “Stay.”
On the last hand, he lays down a seven on top of her eight. Her expression is priceless. No one wants fifteen. It’s just about the worst.
She may not want my advice, but I can’t help telling her, “The dealer has—”
“A bust card. I know.” Her voice is tight, belying her cool demeanor.
A grin spreads across my face. First time or not, she knows her shit. I lean forward on my elbows. “What are you going to do?”
She takes a deep breath and looks at me. “Stay,” she tells the dealer, keeping her eyes on mine. I nod approvingly, and a small smile tugs at her mouth. Her lips are painted as red as her dress, full and naturally pouty, and for a minute an image of them wrapped around my cock flashes through my mind.
I grit my teeth, trying to remind myself she’s too young. She’s probably fresh out of college—not interested in a thirty-year-old. But that doesn’t make my dick strain any less against my pants. I shift in my seat as she looks back at the dealer, trying to adjust myself. Fuck.
The dealer has a four facing up. He flips over his other card, and Olivia smiles. Yeah, she knows what she’s doing. This is playing out exactly as it should. The odds are in her favor. Still, there are no guarantees, and she has nearly a grand riding on this, with hands of only fifteen, seventeen, and eighteen.
As the dealer reaches for another card, Olivia suddenly grasps my arm, her fingers digging into my skin. It’s like I’m shocked by an electric current. I glance at her to see if she felt it too, but her eyes are fixated on the card the dealer is turning over.
It’s a queen. The dealer busted—went over twenty-one.
All the breath whooshes out of her, and she turns to me, her eyes huge. Then a grin breaks over her face, and she lets out a little whoop of excitement. Next thing I know, she’s on her feet and throwing her arms around me.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe that,” she gushes. “What are the odds? I mean, I know what the odds are, but that’s insane.”
The waitress appears with our drinks, and Olivia pulls away from me, grabbing for her purse. “Oh, hang on. I’m sorry.”
I immediately miss the feel of her body against mine and reach out to rest a hand on her arm, stopping her. “Please. Let me.” I take a hundred-dollar chip from my stack and hand it to the waitress before Olivia can say anything, telling her, “Keep them coming.”
She gapes for a second, then shakes her head and clears her throat. “Thank you.”
I lift my glass to her, indicating she do the same. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement, her eyes gleaming, her smile ecstatic over her win.
“To one hell of a first game,” I say with a wink.
She clinks her glass to mine. “I will totally drink to that.”
Draining half of her drink at once, she drops back into her seat, shaking her head as she collects her winnings and stacks them neatly. “I really can’t believe that just happened.”
I pull my chair a bit closer to hers as I collect my own chips and place my next bet. “Beginner’s luck?”
She shakes her head adamantly, placing her bet as well. “Hell no. Doesn’t exist.”
“Oh really?” I ask, amused, though I think the same thing.
“Defi
nitely not.” She turns her body toward me slightly as the dealer lays out the next hand. This time her eyes are on me. She’s much more relaxed now, her attention not so laser-focused on the game. I like it. A lot.
“Why is that?”
She glances at her cards and gestures to the dealer that she’ll stay. I do the same.
Taking another sip of her drink, Olivia says, “Because I knew what I was doing. Statistically speaking, this is the best game to play. If you know a little bit of math, it’s not that hard to make the right choices.”
The dealer hits twenty-one on his third card, and we both lose the hand. Neither of us seems to care.
“But that could have played out any number of ways,” I say, enjoying how she seems to really know what she’s talking about. “The odds of it playing out in the standard ‘textbook’ scenario aren’t guaranteed.”
She tilts her glass toward me and leans in, mock-whispering, “That’s why it’s called gambling.”
I laugh. “Are you sure this is the first time you’ve played? Maybe you’re actually a card shark.”
She throws her head back, exposing the long line of her neck as she laughs. “Maybe I am.” Then she shrugs one shoulder as she gives me a teasing smile. “Or maybe I just watched a lot of blackjack videos in between studying Chaos Theory.”
Fuck. Did she just say Chaos Theory? Is it wrong that those words from those lips make me suddenly hard as steel?
Call me crazy, but what can I say? I love numbers. It’s my thing. Most people don’t get it. Just like most people don’t know what the hell Chaos Theory is. But she does. And that’s just as much, if not more, of a turn on than the way she takes the little straw out of her now-empty drink and toys with it in her mouth.
A couple of men make their way over to our table and join the game, both of them eying Olivia’s body. I can’t blame them—I did the same—but this woman has unknowingly just ensured that I won’t let another man near her tonight.
She smiles at them, sizing them up, and one of them—a douchey looking dude that’s got to be way more muscle than brain mass—slides into the chair next to her.
The waitress appears with our drinks. “Vodka tonic?” she asks Olivia.
She looks at me, and I take that opportunity to stake my claim. I grab Olivia’s drink and lean close to her as I hand it to her, resting my arm on the back of her chair, letting my fingers brush against her lower back.
“I figured you’d want another to celebrate,” I murmur in her ear, knowing how the whisper of my breath feels on her neck. I have no shame.
She looks up at me, her breath catching when she realizes how close I am. After a second, she smiles and doesn’t move away. “Thanks.”
From the corner of my eye, I see the meathead watching us, trying to figure out what our relationship is. Ignoring him, I focus my attention on Olivia.
Fuck the fact that she’s too young for me. I want her. And I’m about to make sure that if she leaves with anyone tonight, it’s going to be me.
3
Olivia
I’m flying on a high full of vodka, gambling, and outright lust. The glitz and glamor of the casino has gone straight to my head, as well as the countless drinks Aiden keeps pushing my way.
Not that I’m complaining. This is hands-down one of the most exciting nights of my life. After hours of blackjack, I now have a stack of chips so big I could probably pay for my tuition for the next semester outright—without my scholarship. But even more thrilling is the fact that this sexy as fuck man seems to want me just as much as I want him.
I lean toward Aiden and put my hand on his thigh, a wicked gleam in my eyes. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” The room has a hazy glow to it, the lights of the casino blurred around the edges, waving back and forth slightly. “Because I think I’m well on my way.”
He chuckles, and I feel the deep rumble all the way through my body, a delicious tug at my core causing my breath to hitch. He’s the one I want tonight, but instead of feeling nervous or jittery about the idea of losing my virginity, all I feel is blossoming desire, simmering on a slow burn until I’m not sure I can take it much longer. The build up to where I want this night to go has been like foreplay. Long, lingering stares, subtle innuendos, teasing touches.
“That’s a fair statement,” he murmurs, trailing a finger from my shoulder to my wrist. Then his gray eyes lock on mine. “I see why you might think that. But I definitely don’t want you drunk. I want you to remember every minute of this night.”
I shiver, not sure if he means how well I’ve played tonight or…something else. Before I can find out, the dealer calls for our bets. A bit of a crowd has gathered as the night has worn on, and their cheers and excitement have only urged me on, challenged me to be more daring.
I’m laying down thousand-dollar bets as if it’s nothing. As if this money sitting in front of me isn’t life changing. But right now, in the heat of the moment, I can’t seem to stop. I’m caught up in the whirlwind, the frenzy of a high-stakes card game. And the prospect of what my prize will be at the end of the night.
My competitive streak has also made an appearance. The one that earned me the title of valedictorian and scored me scholarships to the colleges of my choice. The one that might get me in trouble if I’m not careful. Because Aiden doesn’t bat an eye at throwing down outrageous bets.
He tosses out ten thousand on the next hand, a challenge in his smoldering gaze. We aren’t playing against each other—blackjack doesn’t work that way—but I can’t fight the urge to one-up him. Like I said, I can be a bit competitive. I like to be the best.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, a warning bell sounds as I put ten thousand more on the table, adding to the grand I already had out. It’s my largest bet of the night—well, ever, but I can’t seem to make myself stop. Bet big, win big, right?
“Olivia,” Aiden says, reluctance in his voice. “Don’t do anything you aren’t comfortable with.”
I hiccup, a little giggle escapes. Damn, I really am on my way to being sloshed. But I don’t really mind. At the moment all I want to do is show him just how capable I am. That I’m confident, cool, have it all under control. Because that’s so not me in my everyday life, and I like how he’s been looking at me. As if I’m not the nerdy whiz kid, the girl that has never had a serious boyfriend, the girl who is still a virgin.
That thought settles in, and I try to clear my fuzzy head, shaking it and giving him a smile. Yeah, I need to slow my roll if I plan on making it upstairs with him tonight.
“I know what I’m doing,” I say with a one-shouldered shrug, biting my lip so he knows I’m not just talking about cards.
He gives me a lopsided grin and shakes his head slightly. “So you’ve said.”
I quickly turn back to the game when I hear a collective groan, a blow of disappointment ratcheting through me as I lose the ridiculously large bet I just placed when the dealer gets blackjack. Dammit! I blow out my breath in a huff, trying to ignore the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as the dealer pulls stacks of my chips to his side of the table. Yeah, time to lay of the vodka, Liv.
Sitting back in my seat, I press my lips together and play with my empty glass while I contemplate what to do next. It’s a huge blow, but I can’t feel completely disappointed because I still have way more than I started with.
Aiden hands me a water bottle. “Drink this.”
I feel like I should be embarrassed by the fact that I’ve obviously had too much to drink, but he’s so sweet about it that I’m not.
With a hand on my lower back, he leans in again and gives me a mischievous look. “Want to make this game a little more interesting?”
I immediately forget that I just lost half of my winnings. All I can do is nod along as his gaze burns through me, turning that slow simmer to a boil. Right now, I’d do just about anything this man asked, that’s how badly I want him.
It’s irrational. Crazy. I don’t even know him. But my body doesn
’t care. All I really know at this moment is that something draws me to him, captivates me. Totally beyond reason. But that seems to be the theme of this trip. I haven’t made many rational decisions since driving off campus with Becca. Oh no, Becca!
“Hang on just a second,” I say, fumbling in my purse for my phone. I haven’t communicated with her in hours. When I light up the screen, I see a string of texts from her telling me she’s found someone for me and asking where I am. After a bit, she apparently gave up on me because the texts stopped over an hour ago.
I tap out a quick response. Sorry. Found my guy. Wish me luck.
Her reply is succinct, words completely unnecessary to convey her meaning. A thumbs up emoji, a winky face, and an eggplant. I roll my eyes, but can’t help laughing. Whoever initially started using a cartoon eggplant as a visual dick euphemism was either a genius or one hell of a horny bastard. Probably both.
I glance up at Aiden and find him watching me, an eyebrow quirked up.
Stashing my phone back in my purse and hoping he didn’t just see what I wrote, I shrug casually. “My friend. She was wondering about where I was.”
“Hmm. Sounds like a good friend. The kind who might worry if you didn’t make it back to your room tonight.” One corner of his mouth curves up slightly.
There it is again. A comment that might mean more, but maybe not. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the mounting pressure between my legs that’s drawing all the blood from my brain, but my next words pop out of my mouth as if I have no filter.
“She knows I’m not going back to our room tonight.”
The statement hangs in the air between us for a minute. I lick my lips, suddenly feeling the nerves that I’ve managed to escape all night make a reappearance. What if I’ve read him all wrong? What if he’s just a flirt? What if he doesn’t want me nearly as badly as I want him?
I have no idea what he’s thinking until he says, “About what I was saying—making things more interesting?”
“Yeah?” I nod again, hanging on his every word. We’ve completely forgotten the game at hand, and the other players have moved on to the next hand without us.
