I feel my eyes go wide as I clap excitedly. “My roommate hates it too! Oh my God, did we just become best friends?”
“Yup!” he declares, playing along perfectly.
“Yay!” I dance from foot to foot. “We can be
New Girl
sisters!”
And just like that, the sparkle in his eyes disappears. “I suddenly feel the need to crush beer cans on my head and pull a phonebook apart with my teeth to prove my manhood.”
“Oh please,” I tease him, “I’m not putting your manliness on trial. I’m pretty sure I almost got knocked unconscious by your pec.”
Scott squares his shoulders and lifts his chin as he tugs at the lapels of his suit jacket. “Good.”
“Even though you wear pink swim trunks with sea horses on them,” I giggle, unable to help getting that one last jab in.
“Damn it! My sister bought me those. I felt obligated to wear them!”
“Aw, I’m just playing with you.” I pat his chest of stone. “If I promise not to pick on you anymore will you be my
New Girl
buddy? I
really
want someone to talk to about that show!”
“Especially with CeCe and Schmidt planning their wedding this season,” Scott says in a thoughtful voice.
“Exactly!”
“Fine,” he huffs with fake frustrations. “But you’re going to have to talk me up to your friend, Gwen, too.”
“Gwen?” I ask, momentarily confused. “Oh! You mean Davies?” The smile that crosses his face makes him seem almost boyish, you know, if it weren’t for all those tattoos and muscles and stuff.
Uh oh
, poor sucker has it bad for Davies. “You know, she’s not really into relationships,” I tell him in a slow, careful tone.
He suddenly goes from boyish to a little too sure of himself in the twitch of his lip. “You just work your magic and let me take care of the rest.”
Did he just… yep, he’s flexing his biceps.
Huh, who knows, maybe I’m wrong and Davies is just waiting around for the right guy. And it definitely can’t hurt if that
right guy
could crack a walnut with his thighs.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I tell him with a sure nod.
“Then I’ll see you next Tuesday.” Scott winks and heads in the opposite direction as I press the button for the elevator and wait. Now that he pointed out a particular person who’d be playing tonight, my stomach is suddenly swarming with butterflies.
“Hey, gorgeous,” Nick calls the moment I walk into the suite. Coming out from behind his place at the bar, he walks up and gives me a long hug, really hamming it up for the cameras.
“You don’t have to put on a show anymore, Nick,” I say as I take one step back. “We’ve been busted. The asshole’s just too damned good at reading people. He called me out the first night.”
The jerk actually has the nerve to look relieved. “Oh, thank God! I mean—” he immediately starts to back pedal when he sees the daggers in my eyes. “Nothing against you, or anything. It’s just amazing how un-attracted to you I am.”
“Thanks,” I grumble as I pick up a serving tray and use it to smack him in his toned stomach before grabbing my apron and tying it on.
“Evening, kiddos,” Davies says in a sing-song voice as she pushes through the door and heads to the poker table. I take the last few free minutes we have as the opportunity to inform her of her secret admirer.
“So you’ve really made an impression on someone,” I grin smugly as she starts counting her chips out.
“Who?”
“Scott.”
One of her brows cocks on her forehead. “Who?”
“You know… Scott. The dude from the pool? Huge muscles, sexy ink?”
“Oh! The guy in the sea horse trunks!” she snaps her fingers in recognition. “He seemed nice.”
“He is,” I confirm. “And hot. And crazy attracted to you.”
She barely gives me a glance as she brushes my statement off with a blasé, “Not interested.”
“What? Why?!” I yelp in disbelief. I mean, she
did
see the guy, right? “You
did
see the guy, right?”
“Yeah, and he’s hot as hell, I’ll admit that. But he’s also a relationship guy, it’s written all over him. And you know I have absolutely zero interest in shacking up behind a white picket fence any time soon.”
I’m not sure what happened to her in the past to make her so anti-relationship, but whatever it was must have been bad. She makes me look like I’m starving for commitment, and considering I haven’t had the desire for any action since moving to this God-forsaken desert, that’s really saying something.
“Okay, but it’s your loss.” I turn to head back to the bar, not wanting to push her and make her uncomfortable, just as the door to the suite opens and Gavin, in all his sexy, suited glory, comes waltzing in. Wait… no, that’s wrong. He doesn’t waltz, he swaggers. I don’t think he knows any other way to walk. I’m pretty sure he came out of his mother’s womb swaggering. Hell, he probably shot the doctor the finger guns and a wink on his way out.
“Miss Prescott,” he says that damned name in a tone that I can’t quite read. He’s either pissed off, extremely happy, or completely indifferent. And that’s one thing that drives me crazy about being attracted to him. I have no freaking clue what he is thinking or feeling, yet, all the while, my panties need to be replaced with every arch of his stupid, sexy eyebrow.
The jerk
.
“Mr. Saint,” I address him formally, unsure what else to do. We
are
in the high roller suite after all, even if none of the other players have arrived yet.
He moves a step closer. He either hasn’t noticed Nick and Davies in the room with us, or he simply doesn’t care—my guess would be the latter—as he closes the very last bit of space between us. “Gavin,” he says, his voice having gone velvety. “You know how much I prefer when you say my first name,” I gulp and he finishes with, “Especially when you’re screaming it at the top of your lungs while I bury my cock inside you.”
Yep, he went there.
Davies chuckles quietly, Nick chokes on his spit, and I glare as Gavin moves in, trailing his fingers down my side, brushing against the curve of my breast as his fingertips trail lower until he reaches my hip where he grips tightly. “You’re coming back to my villa tonight,” he informs me in a not-so-quiet voice, no room for question in his words. “And this time you’ll be there, in my bed, when I wake up.”
I try my best to suppress a shiver, all the while hoping my face looks as unimpressed as I’m shooting for. “Just because you’ve been inside me
one time
doesn’t give you the right to boss me around,” I hiss quietly, shooting up a silent prayer that Davies is kind enough to move away from the seductive stand-off going on between Gavin and me. A quick glance over my shoulder confirms that she’s gone, not eavesdropping.
“Clearly you’re talking about my cock,” he lifts his index finger in the air. “Did you forget about my tongue and fingers, too?” he grins arrogantly as his middle and ring finger come up, and a gush of moisture drenches my thong.
Damn it
! “So by my count, I’ve been inside you at least three times. What does that give me?”
“The opportunity to keep me from crushing your balls under my heel?” I smile sweetly.
Gavin’s head lowers and his breath whispers across my lips, making me hungry for another taste of his mouth. “Kinky, I like it,” he growls. “I can definitely work with that.”
Even though his words make me hot and needy, I clench my teeth and fight back my desire to climb his body like a spider monkey. “I need to get to work,” I grind out. “If you’ll excuse me,
Mr. Saint
.”
His laugh is low and melodic as it dances in my ears. “Keep it up, baby. Punishing you is going to be so much fun.”
Why does that have to sound so goddamned tempting?
I don’t reply as I take another step away. “Oh, and Penelope?” At the sound of my first name coming from his mouth, I idiotically spin around to face him. His lips are against my ear in the blink of an eye. “If you flirt with him or so much as bat your goddamned eyelashes in his direction, I’ll have him fired. I swear to God.”
I pull back on a gasp, shocked at the venom in his voice as I look over his shoulder at an unsuspecting Nick, a nice guy who’s just going about his job, minding his own business.
My friend
. And suddenly, that insane desire to protect someone I care about comes back, full force, stronger than the desire I feel to fuck Gavin six ways to Sunday.
I step so close my chest is pressed against his. “Is that a threat?” I seethe quietly.
“It’s a fucking promise,” he growls again. “I’ve seen two goddamned men with their hands on you tonight.” I open my mouth to argue only to be cut off. “Don’t forget, Miss Prescott, there are cameras
everywhere,
including the hallway outside the employee break room.” Shit, he’s talking about Scott, not that he gives me a chance to explain. “I don’t share well, even if it is all for show.”
“And I don’t take people threatening my friends well,” I warned. “Word to the wise, Mr. Saint, you threaten someone I care about and you’ll never,
ever
get me in your bed again. Understand? And
that
,” I jabbed my index finger into his chest, “is also a
fucking
promise.”
**GAVIN**
Davies piles a stack of chips in front of me from yet another win. The talent in the room tonight is sub-par, amateur, barely passing the level of novice. It’s embarrassing. I could close my eyes for the next three games and still win only from listening to the sounds coming from the table. Heavy breathers, drink clinkers, chip flippers, they’re all accounted for tonight and ruining every chance they have at bluffing.
Normally, I wouldn’t play this many games. Before Penelope arrived in the high roller suite, I would have been seen in this room peering at cards no more than once a month, if that. It’s all become too easy for me. But knowing Penelope is working the room with that dick of a bartender and the leeches at the table, predatorily checking her out, it pulls me here more often than I want.
I meant it when I said I don’t share. I may not be the kind of man who spends his time with a woman more than once –
thanks Dad
– but there is something about Penelope that has me staking claim. I’ve had my cock buried deep inside of her, followed by my fingers and tongue, I’ve branded her with my scent and I will be damned if someone else tries to step in on my territory before I’m done with her – and
Christ
, I hope that will be the case. Because the last thing I want, the last fucking thing I
need
, is for the craving I feel for her to never end.
I take a sip of the amber liquid she brought me nearly an hour ago. I’ve kept my drinking light tonight, just for the mere fact that I can’t afford to be any more distracted than I already am, thanks to her heavenly scent and those luscious hips. They sway with every fucking step she takes, rocking me to my very core. How is that even possible, to be controlled by a woman’s sway?
There’s just something special about her, something I’ve never seen in another woman I’ve met before. Is it her determination? Her feisty attitude? Or the fact that I can read everything about her from the tips of her toes to that husky voice of hers when I’m buried deep inside her. But there is one thing keeping me from unveiling the true Penelope, from pushing past that strong veneer she’s erected around herself. It’s those eyes of hers, there’s something resting right past them, hurt and pain, but I can’t tell if I’m right or not and it’s driving me fucking insane.
I’ve been known to make grown men fall to their knees simply from reading them, sizing them up within a minute, but Penelope? I can’t get past those hazel eyes. There is something she’s not telling me and I can’t for the life of me figure it out.
But why the hell do I care? I shouldn’t care. I’ve never cared before, so why now? There’s just something special about her, something so goddamn addicting that I find myself tossing my cards to the center of the table and standing up from my chair.
Everyone looks at me, confused of my sudden departure from the game.
“Mr. Saint, is everything okay?” Davies asks.
“I’m calling it for the night, gentlemen. It was a pleasure. Davies, please be sure to have security stack me up.” Reaching down, I grab a chip and flip it in her direction. “Always a pleasure, beautiful.”
From the corner of my eye, I can see Penelope in mid stride, confused by my actions. I don’t acknowledge her, I don’t even speak to her. I just turn on my heel, and head out the double doors of the suite, never looking back.
I have some planning to do.
Threatening Penelope over Nick probably wasn’t the smoothest thing I’ve ever done, given her obvious loyalty to her friends. I should have known that, but at the time, I was so worked up from seeing her touching both Scott and Nick that I had to warn her.
Message received that threatening her doesn’t go over well.
For some reason, I want to win her over, break that strong façade she has up and help her relax. There is only one way I know how to truly unwind and if I want to make that happen, I have to get to work now.
I wasn’t kidding about getting her to go to bed with me tonight and staying in my bed, none of this leaving in the middle of the night bullshit.
For the first time in my life, I’m going to do something I’ve never done before, something I swore I’d never
do
.
I’m going to woo the fuck out of Penelope.
***
Waiting for her tiny ass has proven to be irritating. Graham texted me about half an hour ago that the game ended, meaning Penelope should have already changed and left the building, but there is no sign of her.
I don’t particularly like waiting for women, it’s never really been in my repertoire before, and I for sure don’t appreciate waiting for a woman outside of Hotel Paragon, wearing a pair of jeans and a navy blue Ralph Lauren polo. I don’t like people to see me dressed down very often; it’s a sign of weakness in my eyes. I want to always be recognized as powerful, it assists with every situation I come across.
But when I was getting ready for tonight, right before I called down for my Jag to be pulled around to the front, I put on a pair of jeans, my polo, and tucked it lightly in the front to show off my brown belt that expertly matched my shoes.
Take that, Nick The Asshole.
It wasn’t an outfit I wore very often but I felt it necessary to wear for tonight. I wanted to show Penelope a different side of myself. A side that didn’t flash money incessantly.