Chapter Three
He slid the card key into the slot, waiting for it to turn green, all the while aware of Maggie standing behind him. His shirt stuck to his chest, his jeans were uncomfortably tight and Deuce swore beneath his breath as the damned lock refused to work.
“Goddamn stupid piece of—”
“Oh for chrissake, here…let me do it.” She wrenched the card from his hand, slid it downward and clicked the door open. Then smirked.
Deuce narrowed his eyes. “Don’t say a word. Not a frickin’ word, okay?”
Silent as the grave, Maggie strolled into the room. Her eyes danced with mirth, but wisely she kept her mouth shut.
He let the door slam closed behind him and grabbed a fresh shirt and jeans from the closet. “I’ll be right back.”
“Take your time.” She walked over to the small table in the generic hotel room and idly picked up the deck of cards that sat next to the water glass and the telephone notepad. As Deuce headed into the bathroom he saw her lay out a hand of solitaire.
Damned if she was gonna play alone tonight. But he would take his time. He liked to take his time…he’d explore her slowly, get her all hot and bothered and then make her shiver and shudder on the brink until he was ready to let her come.
Hell yeah.
Stripping off his sodden shirt, he acknowledged the truth. Maggie was a real babe. “I hope I have better luck with her slot. Hey, I just made a joke. What do you think, Simba?” Deuce looked down at his cock. The king of the jungle was getting ready for some exercise. Maybe it knew it had needed a rest before work.
He took the quickest shower on record and was out of the bathroom, clean and freshly dressed, in seconds flat. Nice thing about hotels—no need to hang up the towels afterward.
Running his hands quickly through his damp hair Deuce opened the small fridge. “I have some wine in here…want a glass?” Perhaps I could pour it over your naked flesh and sip its bounty from your valleys. I’m talking to myself again. I need to stop this.
“Sure. That’d be nice.” She leaned back in the chair, looking so damned good, Deuce nearly jumped her right then and there. Easy, Simba, keep your cool.
He poured two glasses of the white wine, grimacing at the utilitarian tooth mugs provided. Oh well. It all went down the same way. God, I hope she does. “Sorry about the lack of fine glassware. You mind drinking from a sippy-cup?”
“Excuse me?” She looked at the cheap glasses Deuce was holding, and then chuckled. “No problem. I have the same trouble myself. All hotel rooms are the same.” She sipped. “Mmm. Nice.”
Deuce glanced at the cards spread neatly over the table. “So you like cards.”
“Duh. This is a gambling casino, you know. I wouldn’t be here if I had a thing for petunias, now, would I?” Maggie rolled her eyes.
Deuce raised an eyebrow. “Well, you could be a slot machine fan, I guess. How are you at poker?”
She blinked. “I’ve played some now and again.”
“Any good?”
A wicked grin crossed her face. “Haven’t had any complaints.”
“Hmm. Wanna try a couple of hands? I’ve played a bit too.” And wasn’t that the truth.
Maggie hesitated, just a second too long for Deuce’s comfort. “Well, I don’t know. You’re probably much better than me.”
He looked at her. Goddamn, she was playing him. He smiled. She was in for one helluva surprise. “Just for fun…no money involved.” He reached for the cards and clumsily gathered them into a pile. No point in giving the game away just yet.
“But…we’re supposed to bet something, aren’t we?” Her innocent expression could have sold crushed ice to Eskimos.
“Well, usually, yeah. Lemme think here…” Deuce managed a thoughtful frown of his own while stroking his chin. Shit, he was really laying it on thick. And it looked like she was buying it too.
“Oh, wait—I have an idea.” She reached up for her small earrings. “There.” She laid them on the table. “Will that do for an ante?”
Deuce found himself repeating his earlier thoughts. Hell yeah.
~~~~~
“Five card stud?”
Stud? Oh yeah, you sure are. Maggie wrenched her mind out of his crotch and nodded at Deuce who dealt the cards with surprising ease. “That sounds fine. You’ll have to help me out though. I’m not sure I remember the rules.” He’d certainly played more than “a bit”.
She reached out tentatively and picked up the hand, sorting it like a bridge player, gnawing on her lip as she concentrated. Something she’d never do in a real game.
He tossed in his watch. “I’m in.”
She glanced up at him. “Okay. I’d like two cards, please.” She politely discarded two inoffensive clubs face down. Deuce reached for the deck. “And I’ll raise…um…” She thought for a moment, letting the silence play out between them. Damn. This was fun. She’d never, in all her life, played strip poker before.
A shoe appeared on the table. “I raise you one shoe.”
Deuce frowned at his cards. “You do, huh? I don’t have stilettos so I guess—” He looked down at his own feet and tugged off one sock. “There’s your shoe.” He dealt her the two replacement cards. “And the dealer takes three.”
There was quiet for a moment as both players looked at their hands.
Maggie was content. She had a good hand, with two pairs—nines and sevens. But she continued to look worried. “Oooh. I’m not sure…” A little giggle bubbled in her throat and she coughed to cover it. “Oh all right. I’m good for the other shoe and…er… my socks too.”
“Confident, are we?” Deuce grinned. “I’ll call.”
He stripped off his shirt and treated Maggie to a glimpse of a very nice chest. A very nice chest indeed. Not too muscled or too flat, it curved in all the right places. For once, she was seriously distracted from the poker game, admiring the soft whorls of dark hair dappling his pecs and narrowing to a happy trail plunging south of the border. She’d very much like a trip to Tijuana shortly and hoped it was on the agenda.
“You show me yours now.” His voice diverted her errant thoughts.
“Huh?”
“Your cards,” said Deuce. “This is where I get to see your cards—you get to see mine and we figure out who won.”
“Oh. Yes. Sorry.” She dragged her gaze away from his body and spread out her cards. Two sevens and two nines. “Is this any good?” Eat my dust, cute chest.
“Ooooh. Nice. A matching pair.” Deuce’s eyes weren’t on her cards, but her shirt. “And a nice hand of cards as well.”
She ignored him. Well, almost ignored him. Pretty much as well as she ignored the tingle of excitement that was jolting her pussy as strongly as an intimate encounter with an electric eel.
He fanned his own cards out in front of her. “Three ladies. Three queens beat two pair. No matter how lovely the pair is.” Deuce swallowed, looking up from her chest and obviously struggling for composure.
Maggie hid her shock. Goddamn it. He’d won. He was putting his shirt back on and leaving her barefoot, tossing her shoes and socks away under the table someplace. She gritted her teeth, forced a smile and smacked herself mentally upside the ear. “Well, goodness. Somebody’s lucky.”
“Another hand? Perhaps it’ll be your turn this time.”
Patronizing bastard. No more lascivious thoughts about his chest and what lay south of his borders. No more distracting urges. She’d show him.
By the end of the third hand, she was more than a little afraid she would. Show him, that is. Just about everything.
She was down to her bra and panties and Deuce was lounging across from her wearing a smile and his jeans. And whatever he had under them. She’d managed to win his shirt off him, but lost her own in the process and to add insult to injury had been forced to return his shirt on the very next hand.
“You know something, Maggie?” His eyes were hot as they traveled the length of her body.
“What?”
“Let’s up the ante.”
“Oh?” Christ, this was it.
“Yeah. A kiss. Loser of the next hand gives the winner a kiss. And doesn’t stop until he says so.”
“He says so? Maybe she says so.” Maggie snorted. Arrogant asshole. Like he was gonna win.
“Whatever.” Deuce grinned.
“You’re on. Deal.” How could she lose?
And as the cards flew toward her, Maggie realized it didn’t matter what the fuck they were. She wanted that kiss. Real bad