There’s no way I’m letting this hand go and I’m more than willing to match him. It feels like a challenge which isn’t just about the table we’re sitting at. It’s something else.
I’m confident this hand is mine at the turn and I bet accordingly. Ace doesn’t miss the chance to see how this ends, calling without hesitation.
When I look at him, he’s looking at me already. His blue eyes are intense. It’s a challenge not to smile.
I have zero shame when I can finally claim the pot as my own, showing my two pair without gloating about it. Ace smirks like he knew what was in my hand right along with me and just wanted to see if I’d ride it out or collapse.
“Nice hand, Hollywood,” Ace murmurs.
His words wrap around me, and I feel one side of my mouth twitch. “Hollywood?” I can’t help but ask.
“Seems fitting,” he tells me with a shrug. His eyes cut to the side and his voice deepens slightly, “How about we get you a new drink at the bar.”
It doesn’t sound like an offer, not really. It sounds like a demand which he’s not quite willing to dress up that way. Or maybe he’s hoping he doesn’t have to.
“Sure,” I agree and slide my hand into his when he offers it.
The same feeling rolls through my body that it did the first time. It’s a heat that scorches me from the inside out. I want more of the feeling; I want it to consume me.
Once I’m standing, he releases my hand and there’s a split second when I feel profoundly bereft to point it leaves me unsteady, but then his large hand finds my lower back. His touch is steady and warm. It makes me feel invincible and fragile at the same time. How is that even possible?
“What brings you to Vegas, Quincy Wells?” His deep voice wraps around me, urging me to answer with all the honesty I can usually keep wrapped up tight in the smallest parts of me. “LA traffic getting to you?”
I huff out a chuckle under my breath and eye the man next to me as we sidle up to the bar. He orders two club sodas and watches every move the bartender makes. It’s intense. And far too hot for my own good.
“If you want to boil it all down to the traffic, be my guest,” my voice is on the edge of being performative.
His blue eyes, icy in some ways while still managing to sparkle with mirth, find mine. He doesn’t call me on it, even though he knows. Some ofthe tightness in my chest eases; a sensation I’ve been chasing for far too long while finding no relief.
He leans closer, his voice rumbling out of his chest, “How about you tell me the real reason.”
“I just needed a change,” I admit, my words quiet but hold a sincerity I can’t seem to hold back when it comes to this man.
“I think what you really you need is an adventure.” My eyes dart down and take in the way his lips curl up into a grin which doesn’t give too much away. His blue eyes trip over my body, pure temptation in an intense gaze. “I’d be happy to give you all the excitement you could ever want.”
I almost want to laugh at his offer, but there’s something else in the way he’s looking at me. Something raw and unfiltered, something real. It makes me want to find out what it all means and who this man really is.
I don’t think for a second that the only interesting thing about him is the cut he’s wearing. A lot of women might think it’s true, but it means they didn’t bother looking any closer. Which is a shame.
Or maybe not, considering I’m the one inhaling the subtly spicy scent of his cologne.
“An adventure?” I challenge him, one eyebrow arching and asking so much more than my single question ever could.
The sly smile and the way he cuts his eyes to the side to sweep over the room, like he’s protecting me and watching my back, has me curious about what it would be like to truly trust Ace. Would he let me down?
Like so many others have.
Would he break my heart? The bad boy thing he has going on, complete with a motorcycle which roars just as much as it purrs, makes it feel like a real possibility.
I can feel eyes on me, but that’s nothing new. People always want to look. They think paying for a ticket to see one of my movies means they have access, that they’ve paid for the privilege of looking at me all the time.
“Yeah, Hollywood,” he slides his arm around my waist, his body pressing against mine. His mouth lowers toward my ear and his breaths fan across my skin.
He’s solid. Strong. Sure.
“Donald has been bragging about getting you here tonight,” his lips barely move, his voice low enough so no one else can hear him. And I hang on every word. “He was talking about wanting you at his game once it was announced you’d be at the tournament.”
He pulls back just enough to search my eyes. I have no idea what he’s looking for. I’m not sure I want him to find it either.