"Goodnight, Bunny." Forcing out the words, her brows lift up before she giggles again, this one sounding more breathless. Grazing her bottom lip with my thumb, I'm forced to take a step back toward my bike while I still have the strength. "You have my number. Text me. I'll be here when you need me."
Nodding and hugging her belongings to her chest, she slowly backs up as well. "See you tomorrow."
Returning to my bike, I don't turn it on until she's tucked safely into her home. Taking a look around, I notice the few doorbell cameras on her neighbors' doors and the couple of cameras hanging from the light poles. If Hex can get into those, I can keep an eye on her even when we aren't together.
At the roar of my bike and the hunger clawing deep in my chest, I set my path toward the warehouse in hopes of catching the club's hacker to see if she's still available.
three
Bunny
So it turns out, Smoke is far better actor than I thought he'd be. He's got everyone fooled, including me. The shift in him is so sudden, so complete, that I keep glancing over my shoulder just to make sure it's still him standing there.
Sure, he doesn't go pulling me away from the tables I serve. He's careful enough not to affect my job, but I can feel his eyes every time I try to do my usual routine. That heavy weight of his attention follows me across the casino floor like a second shadow. He keeps his distance, sure, but his focus isn't on the games anymore. It's on me.
It's too much. Too obvious. He's going to blow this whole thing wide open if he keeps staring at me like I'm the only woman in the room.
Yet, I can't tell him to pull back. Not when I enjoy what he's doing. Not when the heat of his gaze makes my skin hypersensitive, so that every movement feels like it'shistouch grazing my body, rather than this revealing outfit.
Smoke has barely touched me to begin with. I shouldn’t be able to imagine such an impossibility so perfectly.
Some of the other girls have asked what is going on between us. They’d think I’m crazy to mess around with any of the dangerous bikers who own this part of town, and maybe they’re right. Iamcrazy because I don’t need to lie.
I want Smoke even more than I did yesterday or the day before.
To keep up the act, I've easily announced that we're together. Said it with a smirk, like it's nothing. But the way my face heats up every time? That part is real. Soon, even as oblivious as he is, Smoke will realize I’m enjoying this arrangement more than he is. That the words that leave are the truth, not just lines from a script.
The staff has noticed his watchful gaze. The bartenders nudge each other, most of them confused by the change in the air. The dealers watch too, most likely wondering when he’ll grow bored and return to them. But the gamblers? They can't tell the difference. They're either too drunk or too deep in the hole to notice anything beyond their next card or their next drink.
Which brings me back to my job.
I'm working on a new table now, caught mid-stakes. Men who've had just enough to get bold but not enough to pass out. One of them catches my wrist as I'm setting down a whiskey, almost making me spill it.
Noticing the rings on his fingers, large, thick ones as more of a display, I realize my teeth are already grinding.
Why do the rich ones feel so untouchable? Spoiled fuckers, all of them.They all look the same; I can’t even remember if this is a regular one.At this point, does it matter?
I keep my smile glued on. My voice stays perky, light, a little breathless. "Easy there, sugar. I’d hate to ruin such a good hand."
Giving him a wink, I notice the others at the table shift their gaze between us. The dealer, Reuben, looks my way, his brows lifting in a silent question.
The curve on my lips remains sweet, hopefully reassuring him that I’m fine.
WhileIcan deal with it, I can’t help if my coworkers try to get involved. Some of the men sitting at these tables are powerful. I’d rather avoid confrontation if it’s possible.
“I think I can thank you for that, sweetheart.” He releases my wrist but wastes no time circling my waist and tugging me toward him. “Something tells me you’re radiating luck. How about you stay right here and help me win big?”
There’s nothing I want less than to stay here any longer, inhaling his strong cologne. Whether costly or not, it still smells awful.
What I need is an escape. An excuse to leave without offending this asshole. Especially when I’ve got his arm acting like a shackle.
As I force out a light laugh, my hand strokes the dark hair on his arm. “I don’t want to distract you from winning. Can't enjoy your drink and place with one hand, can you?”
In an attempt to lightly pull his arm away, I realize his grip is unwavering.
“Sir, we would like to resume the game.” Reuben remains patient, but from the way he’s looking at my hand, he must be able to read my discomfort. However, his mouth is already curving downward. “Our staff is busy enough as it is.”
Hoping I can go off of his words to keep the conversation from taking the wrong turn, I stumble as I’m yanked closer. Almost falling over, I catch myself on the table to stop from tumbling onto his lap. My tray clatters to the ground, drawing more attention.