ALEXA

“Read ‘em and weep, Alexa Carrington.” Using his stumps to pluck the cards from his toes, Damon lays them out on the floor of the study.

“Competitive much?” I ask, closing the fan of cards in my hand before I’ve even been able to take a turn.

Grinning, Damon begins flipping his cards face down. “Maybe a little.”

“Well considering I didn’t even get an opportunity to play, and my suspicions about you dealing straight from the pack without shuffling the cards, I don’t think you should be too proud. My deal,” I say, taking the pack and spreading them out on the floor to mess them thoroughly. Just before I gather them back in, I notice Damon watching me with a very distracting look on his face. Maybe we should have played cards before I danced downstairs.

“Everything okay?” I ask as his eyes drop to the cards all over the floor and his smile widens. Rolling my eyes, I sigh. “I know. I shuffle like a child. I never learned the real way.”

“Well it’s not something I can teach you,” he says as his smile twitches at the side. “But I kind of like that we shuffle the same way.”

Gathering the cards back into a stack, I smile back at him. I kind of like that too.

“Want to stick with rummy now that the deck is properly mixed?”

“Is that a challenge? Or are you trying to move on to a new game because you’re wary of my rummy prowess?”

Laughing, I shake my head and deal the cards. “Once I grind your rummy prowess into the ground, you can choose the next game.”

Narrowing his eyes at me, he drags his hand towards him and begins arranging it between his toes.

“Do you think if you hold your cards like that it’s still called a hand? Or would you call it a foot?” I wonder aloud.

“Have you ever noticed that people might say that there’s trouble afoot, and that it could also mean it was at hand?” he asks, picking up the card I just threw out and adding it to his cards before throwing out a five.

“The trouble could also be ahead, so someone might need to get abreast of the situation,” I say, picking up his discarded five and laying down my winning hand. “You want to stick with rummy?”

With the biggest smile I’ve seen today, Damon shakes his head. “You choose a game. I’m still thinking about getting a breast and it’s clouding my judgment. I can’t think of a game beyond strip poker. Maybe I shouldn’t watch you dance before we spend time alone together.”

Pressing my lips together to keep from laughing, I nod and collect his cards. “I confess that I had been thinking along similar lines on all counts. Should we settle on poker with our clothes on?”

Exhaling roughly, Damon clears his throat and nods for me to start dealing.

“Just so you know,” he says, scratching his beard, “I really like the way your mind works.”

“And I yours. You want to play for buttons? There’s a huge jar of them in the cupboard.”

Considering me carefully as I deal, he crosses his arms. “Yes. I think I do want to play for buttons. This cupboard?” he asks, standing up and moving to one of the built-in closet doors.

“Next one. Middle-ish shelf.”

Managing easily to open the door, Damon moves a few board games and the sewing kit aside to pull out the big pickling jar full of buttons.

“Why so many?” he asks, making his way back over. “Is it a stripper thing? You guys collect up the buttons after you rip your clothes off?”

Laughing, I shake my head. “Have you seen our dancing? There is no ripping.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says, setting the jar between his feet to hold it steady as he twists the lid. Tipping a pile of buttons on the floor, he starts separating colors. “You dance like... I don’t even know how to describe it. But, I like it a lot.”

“Thanks.” Moving next to him, I help with the sorting. We reach for the same red button and my fingers touch his stump. Damon pulls it away quickly and reaches for a different button.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask at the same time as he says, “Did you always know that upside-down was sexy?”

Snorting, I find myself laughing again. “What?”

“Upside-down,” he repeats, looking up from his pile of blue buttons. “I didn’t know it was sexy until I saw you go there. It was a revelation.”

Smiling, I add a handful of white buttons to the growing pile. “Madame Jermaine used to let a circus group rent her studio once a week. I was always there, because I lived in the back room at the time. I thought they were sexy too. And strong. It seemed like something I needed to be at the time, so I asked if I could train with them. They didn’t mind me joining in - though I suspect that was because Madame knocked down their rent to pay for my lessons. She denied it, but knowing her, she totally did.”

“And now you teach there?”

“Once a week usually, but I’ve been helping out more of late, because Madame is recovering from a broken hip and a bout of pneumonia. Her assistant Janine can’t run all the classes, so I fill in her gaps. Which reminds me, I’m busy tomorrow afternoon, so we’ll have to re-schedule our study session. Is that okay?”

“Can I give you a ride home after?” he asks, as if I might say no.

“If you want. I’ll be finished at five and I’d like to see you.”

Damon smiles and turns back to his buttons. “This should be enough,” he says, returning the pile of unsorted buttons to the jar by tilting the jar down and sweeping them back in. I start dividing the red, white, and blue buttons into equal shares.

“Very patriotic color scheme you’ve chosen.”

“Well I did sign up to fight for my country,” he says with a small sigh. “Though truth be told it was because I had a particular interest in... stuff I can’t talk about, and there was an opportunity to use my... scientific mind.”

“You didn’t think of staying?” I ask, looking up from the buttons. “After the fireball? Your scientific mind still seems intact.”

“It wasn’t for a while,” he says quietly. “And I still hold too much resentment to want to be helpful. It’s a more quiet tantrum of mine. And I’ve moved on to better things now anyway,” he says with genuine certainty. “I really love teaching.”

“And you are so very good at it,” I say with a smile as I scoop his pile of buttons toward him and scrape mine towards me. “Shall we begin?”

“Whites are ones, blues are fives, and reds are worth ten?”

“Works for me.”

After a dozen hands, I’m down but not by a huge amount. Damon likes to take risks and bet big, which pays well and keeps him happy until I slowly win it back. I’ve been using the time to find out his tell, and now I have him right where I want him. I’m just waiting for the right hand.

“I’m gonna get all your but-tons,” he says in a teasing sing-song voice.

“Do you always celebrate when you get to almost?” I ask, playing it cool. “Most people wait until they’ve actually won before they start.”

“As Bruno would say, ‘don’t be jelly’. I’m sure we’re both ready for this to end, so this can be the last hand. You’ve done well to hold on for this long, but the time has come to let go.”

“Are you complimenting me?” I ask, picking up my hand and frowning. “It feels a lot like you’re insulting me. Dealer takes two.”

“I’ll take one,” he says with the cocky smile I’ve come to associate with his bluff. Taking up his fresh card, he pushes a few buttons into the space between us. “I’m celebrating, because I’m thinking about how much fun I’ll have when we do play strip poker.”

“I think I’ll definitely beat you at strip poker,” I say, upping the ante in the pot and flipping my braid over my shoulder.

“What makes you say that?” he says, raising me.

“You think you’ll still be able to focus on your cards after I lose a few pieces of clothing and start leaning in when I deal?” I ask seeing him and raising him just a little.

Staring at me, he shrugs. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see. We might have to set rules about how far a dealer can lean.” Looking back at his cards, he casts an appraising eye over me and the buttons on the table. “You’ve got to bet big to win big. All in,” he says pushing his collection of buttons into the center. “You fold?”

“You want me to just give up? And let you win? Just like that?”

Chewing the corner of his bottom lip, Damon watches me closely. “You’re not letting me win, if I just win. Are you telling me you’ve been going easy on me?”

“No. I’ve been playing the game as best I know how.”

“Then I’m all in. You fold?”

“I think I’ll call,” I say, pushing the last of my buttons to the center. Damon views his cards as if I’m making a big mistake.

“You’re sure?” he asks, keeping his voice calm.

“Mmhmm. I don’t have a great hand, but I know for a fact that you’re bluffing, so I’ll take my chances.”

“For a fact, huh?” he says, collecting his cards to reveal them. Flipping them over, he’s got nothing. “What gave me away?”

“If I tell you, I’ll never win at strip poker,” I reply with a wink as I toss a pair of eights in front of him and pull all the buttons toward me.

Laughing, he shakes his head. “Out-foxed again. What will you spend all of your hard-won buttons on?”

Giving a casual shrug, I start putting them back in the jar. “I usually spend my spare change on therapy, but I won big tonight, so maybe I’ll splash out and get a pony.”

Damon’s face drops a little at the therapy comment, but he recovers well. “You want a pony?”

“Why? You going to get me one?” I laugh as I put the button jar away and shut the closet. When I turn around, Damon is crouched with his back facing me.

“Climb on, you can ride me to bed.” Dropping his head, he laughs. “That came out wrong. I’m no pony, but I’d be happy for you to ride me anytime.” He laughs again. “Yeah, there’s no way I can say it differently. It’s an illness.”

Jumping onto his back, I lean in and whisper in his ear, “I hope you never find a cure.”

Groaning, Damon pushes up to his feet and I’m reminded of how tall he is. Wrapping my legs around him, I squeak as he rears back making horse noises and trots a circle around the study before galloping down the hall and through the kitchen.

“Whoa horsey! Stop, stop, stop!” I cry as he’s about to head to my room. “Turn around.”

Obeying, Damon bounces and snorts in the middle of the kitchen, pawing at the ground with his foot and making me laugh.

“Over there. The cookie tin on the top shelf.” Trotting over, Damon waits as I raid a few oatmeal cookies from it. “Okay. Trot along now, and I’ll give you some oats.”

“I like your sugar lumps better,” Damon says with a smile in his voice as he prances towards my bedroom.

“There will be no sugar lumps for you tonight, Mr. Shermansky. You’re on a sugar lump diet.”

Standing next to my bed so I can climb off his back, he turns to face me, his eyes dark and hungry as he wets his lips. “It only makes me want them more,” he says, closing his eyes as he takes a step back. “I’m going to go home now.”

“Damon?”

He opens one eye and I hold up a cookie. “Just because we’re not going to have sex, doesn’t mean we can’t eat cookies. And if you think you’re leaving without kissing me, you’ve got another thing coming.” Waving him forward, I put a cookie in his mouth. “It’s not pie, but it’s still pretty good.”

Reaching up, Damon pushes the cookie all the way into his mouth and watches me as he chews. Ignoring the heat radiating off him and what it’s doing to my insides, I flop onto the bed and nestle into the cushions, patting the spot next to me. I’m not ready for him to leave; I need to feel him close for a while.

Looking to the ceiling, Damon shakes his head and takes a deep breath, before coming to flop next to me.

“Praying for strength?” I ask with a giggle as I roll towards him and prop my head on my hand.

“I need it.”

“Nah. You just need more cookies.” Taking a bite of one, I move the remainder to his mouth. Keeping his eyes on mine, Damon opens his mouth a little and I slide the cookie in before getting the next one. Eying it carefully, I look up to find him staring at me with that hungry look again, only now it’s as if he’s starving.

“You want the side with the most raisins?” I whisper, unable to keep from looking at his lips. My breathing quickens and I forget about the cookie when I raise my eyes again to his. With one look, he tells me what he wants to do and asks if he can do it. I’ve barely nodded before his lips are on mine, making me wonder if my eyes told him how much I wanted this too.

Moaning into my mouth as he kisses me, Damon brings my whole body to attention with the vibration. Needing to feel more of it, I slide over him and he lowers us deeper into the cushions so I can lie comfortably on top of him. His arms begin to rise from the bed, but instead of coming over me, he tucks them behind his head.

Not for the first time, I wonder if I should let him touch me, just to see how it feels. The idea excites me, until the fear sets in. The fear that if I don’t like it, I will feel differently about him and won’t want him to be near me anymore.

“Alexa?” he whispers across my lips, inducing that shiver through my body. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I whisper back. “Just thinking too much. Can you make it stop?”

“Love to,” he says, tilting his chin up to graze his beard gently along my jaw. Sucking my bottom lip into his mouth, he runs his tongue along it. Sighing in approval, I run my hands down his sides.

Breaking the kiss, he tips us sideways as he giggles like a school girl and clamps his arms down at his sides.

“Seriously? That ticklish?” I ask, laughing with him and trying to make it happen again.

“Only my sides,” he says, gasping when I find a gap in his defenses. He explodes into more giggles until he dislodges my hands and shoves himself away from me.

“You giggle like a little kid,” I tease, unable to keep from laughing.

“Yeah, well... you taste like cookies. And your skin smells like cinnamon, but your hair smells of sunshine and rainbows,” he says, making me laugh harder. Laughing too, he scoots off the bed. “I’m going home before I think of a really good come back,” he says, adjusting his shirt and clearing his throat.

“Do I get a goodbye kiss?”

“Can I trust you to keep your hands to yourself?” he asks warily.

“Well I trust you to do it,” I counter, standing on the edge of my bed and waiting for him to come closer. “I’m sure I can manage.”

Inching closer with caution, he comes to stand in front of me. Standing on the bed, I’m a little taller than him and I quite like the way he’s looking up at me - though that might have more to do with his steamy look, than the idea of wielding some sort of power over him.

Making a show of holding my arms behind my back, I lean in, nuzzling his fuzzy cheek a little before touching my lips to his. As soon as our mouths join, I want more, but I keep my hands behind my back, locking them together to keep them from grabbing for him. If he can restrain himself, I can too.

Damon deepens the kiss with the slightest angle adjustment and I can feel my hands tightening around each other as I resist the urge to touch him. Even my legs start to move restlessly, wanting to wrap around him and lock him in close. Instead, I press my body into his, enjoying the firmness that meets my soft parts.

Greedy for more, I stroke his tongue with mine, inviting him deeper. He responds immediately and a silent, appreciative moan runs through my body, only to be answered by a deep rumble from him. It’s as if we are just a bundle of sensation as the vibrations travel between us at every point of contact. Unable to help myself, I release my hands, twining them into his hair and running them over his shoulders to find the bare skin of his arms. Seeking to touch more of him, I run my hands back over his biceps and up inside his short sleeves to feel his smooth, muscular shoulders and...

Damon’s chest bumps me backward so I don’t fall off the bed when he pulls away. He’s breathing hard. “You were meant to keep your hands to yourself,” he says, clearly battling to control himself. Adjusting his crotch, he sighs and rubs his forehead.

“Well it’s really hard!” I say in my defense, missing the feel of him pressed against me.

“You think I don’t know that?” he asks with an exasperated laugh.

“You make it look easy.”

“I’ve had more practice,” he says, his smile fading. “I really have to go, Alexa. Or I’m going to find a way of convincing you that no sex is a terrible idea, no matter how much it makes sense to me when I’m thinking straight.”

Without telling him that I wouldn’t need any convincing, I nod. I know as well as he does that it makes sense. “My therapist thinks it’s a good idea too. She really likes you, because you suggested it.”

“You went to therapy this morning?”

I nod. “Does it weird you out that I’d talk about you to a complete stranger?”

“Not at all. I think I’d prefer you talking to a stranger than say... Bruno. He knows too much to be objective.”

I try to hide my smile, but Damon catches it and sighs. “What did he say?”

Smiling as I recall the conversation I had with Bruno this morning, I begin rattling off the main points. “He says that you never back down from a challenge, you can read people like a book and talk them out of, or into whatever you want, that your soft spot for the little guy is a mile wide, that you deflect tough questions with humor, and that I should watch out for your feet, because you kick him ‘all the time’,” I say with air quotes.

“He deserves it,” Damon says with a cheeky smile as he looks around for his bag.

“It’s in the study.”

“Okay, mind-reader.” Stepping in close, he briefly brushes my lips with his before moving to the door.

“Pick you up from Madame’s at five?”

“Five,” I confirm with a nod, bringing my fingers to the smile on my lips as he disappears out the door.