A REASON FOR MARRIAGE

Simon couldn’t resist a challenge. And she was going to challenge him if that’s what it took. She didn’t know if she could really beat him, but he didn’t need to know she wasn’t confident. She was good at cards, no doubt about it. And she was damn good at bluffing.

“What are the stakes?” he asked, and her heart soared. She’d intrigued him enough to shake him from his brooding.

“If I win, you take me out to do something that I’d love, but you hate.”

“For instance?”

“I don’t know.” She cast about wildly, “Maybe we go shopping or something. I mean.. I go shopping. You’ll sit and wait for me. I’m sure you’ll hate that,”

He almost grinned, she was certain. “And if I win?”

Sara shrugged. “We go somewhere you want instead.”All rights © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Doesn’t sound like much incentive,” he said, taking a sip of the champagne.

His eyes narrowed, his gaze slipping over her body. Her skin warmed, her nipples tightening beneath the fabric of her dress. Any second and he would know the effect he was having on her.

“I have a better idea,” he said as his eyes met hers again.

“What’s that?”

“We play for the clothes on our backs. Or we don’t play at all.”

____________

Sara’s heart thundered in her ears. Strip poker. Could she do it? Because she knew what would happen if she lost.

Her body felt tight, achy, the tender area between her thighs melting, softening. Her body craved his so strongly it scared her. They’d not made love the previous night after they returned to his place. He’d simply held her throughout the night, and Sara was more than happy to just stay in his arms, but now she wanted him, but he’d gone out very early in the morning and insisted that they go out as soon as he came back.

Sara took a deep breath. But she wouldn’t lose. She had just as good a chance of winning as he did. Maybe better, who knew.

“Fine,” she said. “We play for clothes.”

Simon smiled for the first time in hours. It was a devilish smile, a supremely confident smile. Warmth curled inside her belly, flooded her limbs.

“There’s only one problem,” she continued.

“What’s that?”

“You’re wearing more clothes than I am. Either you spot me a couple of hands, or you count that jacket, shirt and tie as one item.”

He shrugged out of the jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair. “The shirt and tie count as one item.”

She tipped her chin to his waistline. “And the belt?”

“Goes with the pants.”

Sara picked up the deck of cards “All right, then. I guess we’re on. If you pull one of those chairs over here, we can play at the desk.”

“The bed, Sara. It’s bigger.”

Her ears felt hot. Not from embarrassment, but from sensual overload. She wanted to play strip poker on a bed with this man. And she wanted to win, because she wanted to see that magnificent body, and after two weeks, she was dying for him to make love to her.

“Fine.” She picked up her glass. “Let’s go.”

“After you.”

She led the way into the bedroom, set the juice on the bedside table and kicked off her heels before climbing onto the bed. When she turned around, Simon was watching her, his eyes smoky with desire.

“We could just skip the cards,” he said, his deep voice vibrating over her nerve endings. “Save a whole lot of time and trouble.”

“On the bed, Simon. Get ready to lose your shirt.”

He slipped out of his shoes and socks, then got onto the bed opposite her. The center of the king-size bed was a good playing surface, if a little unorthodox. Sara shuffled the cards and Simon cut. Then she dealt.

“I love watching your hands stroke those cards,” he said.

“No trying to distract the dealer,” she answered coolly. Then she picked up her hand.

She glanced at Simon-except that he was looking at her, as well. Both trying to gauge the other’s reaction for a clue to the hand they held.

“You’re a good bluffer,” Simon said.

Sara arched an eyebrow. “Who says I’m bluffing?”

“I can always read people, but I can see you’re good at hiding your emotions at the table.”

“I guess. Scott and I used to play all the time when we were younger,” she said, though her heart was tripping along with adrenaline. No doubt his proximity had an effect, as well.

Simon tossed two cards down and smiled. Sara looked at her hand again. She had two fives, which was good, but she hoped for better. Tossing three away, she dealt the next round. This time she picked up an ace, a two and another five. It wasn’t stellar, but it was a good hand.

“Call,” Simon said.

Sara laid down the cards. Simon only smiled, then he laid down his hand. She scanned it desperately, relief flooding her when she realized he’d lost.

“Three of a kind beats two,” she said.

“As I see it, there can be no losers here.”

“Your shirt, please.”

Simon’s smile sent a shot of pure lust straight to her center as he began to loosen his tie. A second later he tugged it free and tossed it at her. Slowly, he unbuttoned the crisp white shirt he was wearing.

“You have a T-shirt on under that!” she exclaimed as the shirt fell open to reveal another layer beneath.

“You should have thought of it before. Too late now.” He peeled the shirt off and dropped it on the floor.

Dammit, why did men wear so many more garments when they were dressed up than women did? It hardly seemed fair. She hadn’t even worn stockings, which she was now regretting.

Fortunately, Simon lost the next round, as well, his straight falling victim to her flush. He didn’t seem quite as perturbed as she would have expected for losing two hands in a row and she began to wonder if he was doing it on purpose, toying with her to make her overconfident. She wouldn’t put it past him, but she refused to be distracted by the ploy.

When he pulled the T-shirt over his head, Sara tried not to get distracted. She wanted to run her tongue along those ridges. She stifled her impulses and concentrated on the cards. She had to be careful, or Simon would take her down so quick she wouldn’t know what had hit her until too late.