Stacking the Deck (A Betting on Romance Novel Book 2) (28 page)

And yet, the wave of certainty that flooded her as his brilliant smile hit her in full force was just as unquestionable.

She didn’t just have a crush on Carter McIntyre anymore. She’d gone and fallen head over heels in love with him.

“Should we call for a pizza?”

“What?” she asked, shaking her head as if
that
would bring her to her senses.

“Pizza. It’s quick. It’s easy. And I’m starved.”

“You have paint on your cheek,” she observed distantly.

Strangely, she didn’t even care that he was talking about food in the midst of her making the most monumental emotional discovery of her life. Somehow it was fitting. Real.

Because, she suddenly realized, she no longer wanted a fantasy of love, she no longer wanted the possibility or promise of love sometime in the future. She wanted the imperfect reality that stood before her. Hungry. Smudged. Smiling, wondrous reality.

Lord help her, she wanted Carter McIntyre.

She told herself it had to be some other woman. It certainly wasn’t
Liz
who stood, took a paper napkin from the table and calmly wiped the smudge of paint off Carter’s cheek, licking her thumb and rubbing it over the light shadow of stubble as it tugged at her flesh, marveling at how good it felt to touch his face.

And it wasn’t Liz who swallowed in anticipation as she became acutely aware of the scent of his body, the air in her own lungs as they filled deeply, involuntarily, then caught when his eyes turned almost imperceptibly darker. It couldn’t be Liz who licked her lips and smiled, who forgot about being straight or narrow or responsible as she took a step closer.

Carter didn’t speak. The man who always seemed so quick with a wise-cracking comment was completely silent as he reached a hand out to cup her cheek, his thumb rubbing ever so lightly over her skin. And when he pulled her forward and pressed his mouth to hers, it was she
who made a primal sound of surrender deep in her throat as her lips parted.

So good
, she thought, her hands sliding up to pull his head closer. He tasted, felt
so
good. Never before had she felt so blissfully whole, so
complete
simply from touching her lips to a man’s.

Except once.

Carter melded their mouths, his lips soft yet firm, light touches following searing pressure. Liz sighed into his mouth and learned his brilliant smile all over again in a way she’d never dreamed possible but had dreamed about a thousand times.

She didn’t want it to end. She wanted to be this woman who could kiss and be kissed with such deep passion her entire life.

Heaven help her,
she wanted.

Another small moan of pleasure escaped her as his hands slid, hot and firm down her back to cup her rear. Then he pressed her against the kitchen table—the same kitchen table she’d eaten pancakes at as a girl—and she realized with a hint of excited alarm that she was picturing them
on
that same table.

She pulled him to her. Hard.

Carter grunted in surprise and tried to pull back, but Liz would have none of that. Not now. No, now that she’d decided to be this new woman, there was no turning back. Gripping his head with one hand and his right buttocks with the other, she held him tight, nipped his bottom lip with her teeth.

And grinned.

“You’re right. Two,” she said.

H
E CHUCKLED AGAINST her lips. He knew she was smiling. He could feel the curve of her lips under his own, but the sensation of her wide, soft lips curving against his fought for supremacy in a riot of sensations from the rasp of her jeans against his thigh, to the surge of desire pulsing through his veins.

He had no idea how they’d gone from contemplating pizza to practically sprawling on the kitchen table, but it was beyond his capacity to think about anything other than that wicked gleam in her hazel eyes or the light nip she’d just given him.

He didn’t know this Liz. The Liz he’d known was lovely, appealing. Predictable.

This Liz was sensual. Passionate. Focused in a way that was uniquely Liz but bowling him over with heat and intensity.

She was a fire in his hands, in his blood, and he struggled to keep up with the need that flashed hot and bright within him, seemed matched by her own breathless assault.

His lips hovered over hers. “What are we doing?” he gasped between kisses. “I’m covered in paint.”

“Me, too.” She giggled and squirmed and Carter lost the will to protest as she pulled off his battered, paint-spattered ball cap and tossed it in the corner.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. Somehow taking Liz Beacon on her kitchen table didn’t seem right. Didn’t seem real. He looked around for a slightly more padded surface. “We should stop. Or pause...”

“No.”

He laughed then, relishing the give of her body as he pressed himself into her soft curves. Just
no.
She didn’t ask why they should stop. She didn’t agree with him. She’d simply stated in that firm, business-like, Liz Beacon way, ‘no.’ And, how could he argue with that?

“Take off your shirt,” she ordered hoarsely, fumbling with his fly.

His eyebrow arched at her command, but he grinned, too. Picking her up despite her squeal of surprise, he sat her on the edge of the table, toed off his sneakers and pulled his T-shirt over his head. He was still half-dressed, but he felt more naked than he ever had in his life.

She was quiet, her lips full and pink and well-kissed as she stared at the bulge in his shorts. Then her eyes flashed up to his and he saw the moment of uncertainty there.

“We don’t have to do this,” he said.

Christ, could they? Suddenly he realized heavy petting was all they’d be doing if she wasn’t prepared. And why would she be? It wasn’t as if she’d been expecting him to jump her bones on the kitchen table while the paint dried on their brushes.

Great. Now, he was a half-naked horny guy with an obvious erection, and she was probably wondering how she got herself into this. He bent to rebutton his cargo shorts.

She reached out a hand to stop him. “Don’t.”

“I don’t have anything on me,” he said. Maybe the universe was trying to tell him something.

“Are you clean?”

“I beg your pardon?”

She blushed furiously, her cheeks brilliant as she repeated the question. “I know you tend to be fairly popular with women.  I just...”

“I’m clean,” he said. “And the rumors of my popularity are highly inflated.” He gave her a look. “I’m careful,” he said, when he saw she wasn’t amused.

“I’m sorry, but these days you have to ask.”

He tipped her chin until she’d meet his eyes again. “You?”

She laughed, a self-conscious burst. “Are you kidding? I’d have to have sex—” but she cut herself off before finishing the sentence. “I mean, it’s not that I’m— I mean, I’ve
had
sex…”

Carter stroked her arm with his fingertips and chuckled. “I’m not thinking you’re frigid if that’s what you’re worried about. I’m more thinking I’m standing here thinking thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking because I’ve got no way to follow through on them.”

“I have protection,” she blurted. “In my purse.” They looked at her purse on the window sill. “So we can. If you want to.”

“You have to ask?”

But, she didn’t laugh. Instead she let out a long breath and glanced out the slider, her arms across her chest. “I’m sorry. This is so awkward now.”

Carter nodded. “You’ve changed your mind. That’s cool.” He reached for his shirt.

“No!” She protested. “It’s just... the whole responsible conversation kind of takes the wind out of the sails of being irresponsible, doesn’t it?” Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

“You want to be irresponsible.”

“Responsibly, yes.”

He grinned. “Strangely, I think I understood that. Okay, how about we do something to put us back in the mood?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. A game?”

“A game.”

“Isn’t that what horny teenagers do? Truth or Dare? Spin the Bottle?”

“We’re not thirteen.”

“Don’t look so skeptical. It’ll work. Truth or Dare. Have you ever played?”

“No.”

“Then it’s about time.” He winked. “But I’ll be nice. I’ll let you go first.”

“How does this work?” All business, she started to slide off the table. Carter stopped her with a kiss.

When he finally pulled back, she had that lightly flushed but wary look back in her eyes.
Progress
. “You ask whether I want a truth or dare and I pick one,” he instructed.

“Okay. Truth or dare?”

“Truth. Now ask me a question.”

She frowned slightly, little furrows forming on her brow as she thought. He nuzzled her neck, enjoying the clean, sweet scent of her. “Is today the first time you’ve thought about kissing me?”

“No. My turn.”

“When was the first time?” she demanded, pulling back enough to make eye contact.

“Uh-uh. I already answered your question. Your turn now. Truth or dare?”

She pouted, but answered anyway. “Truth.”

“Is today the first time you’ve thought of having sex with me?”

Her eyes flew to his. Maybe he’d pushed too far. It was hard to know where the boundaries were with a woman who was splayed on the kitchen table one moment and biting her lip nervously the next. “Let me rephrase that. Is today the first time you’ve thought of having sex with me on your kitchen table?”

She smiled shyly, the sexy heat now returning to her eyes.
Better.
“Yes. Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“You’ll do anything I want?”

“Or I have to answer a truth.”

“Are you sure this is the way the game is supposed to be played?”

Her fingertips fiddled with the waistband of his shorts, the unconscious movement driving him crazy with desire. But he didn’t draw her attention to it. He didn’t want her to stop. He grinned instead. “Would I make up my own rules? Besides, it’s not like there are ‘truth or dare’ police out there. We make our own rules. So tell me. What’s my dare?”

“Okay. I dare you to do a striptease for me.”

Carter glanced at himself wryly. “It’ll be short-lived entertainment.”

“Do you want a truth instead?”

“Do I get music?”

She smiled and pushed at his chest. “Stop stalling.”

Carter started humming, a self-conscious, ridiculous base beat and gave it his all.

For her part, she was an appreciative audience and was blushing furiously even though he was the one standing completely naked in the middle of her kitchen.

“I’m feeling a little ridiculous,” he confessed.

“You don’t look ridiculous,” she said.

“Maybe not, but you’re definitely looking overdressed.”

She licked her lips and toed off her sneakers. Smiled mischievously. His body answered the look in her eyes as he stepped toward her, his pulse thudding in his ears. “My turn. Another truth.”

“I don’t get to choose?”

“We make our own rules, remember?” He stood apart from her, not touching, the tension, awareness, as palpable as any contact with her bare skin. The air in his lungs grew thick.

Her eyes darkened.

“Okay. Truth,” she said.

“Close your eyes,” he commanded.

“That’s not a question.”

He stepped closer still, until he could feel as much as hear her quick intake of breath. “No, that’s just the first part.”

“A multi-part question? No fair. I think that’s a different game.” But she closed her eyes, nonetheless.

“It’s not about playing fair,” he whispered. “It’s about playing to win.”

She opened one eye. “There’s a winner?”

He smoothed her eye closed with the pad of his thumb. “
Shh
. If we play it right, we both win. Now for part two. Ready?”

She nodded even though he noticed her nervous swallow. “Ready.”

Carter leaned close, so close his lips grazed her ear. She smelled so good. Delicious. “Tell me your favorite candy.”

“Twizzlers.” She said, smiling softly.

“What a coincidence,” he said, a rush of something sweet and innocent flooding his senses. “Mine, too. Now. Tell me about your first kiss.”

“That’s not a question, either,” she said, her eyes popping open. “You’re very bad at this.”

He rubbed his thumb over her cheek again, enjoying the way her chest rose and fell in shallow, eager breaths. “Oh, but it is. You see, I want the truth. No holding back. All the details. Got it?”

She swallowed again. “And then what?”

He smiled to dazzle. “We both win.”

She closed her eyes and for a moment he thought she wouldn’t say a thing, but then her lips began to move and his entire body focused on the whispered words caressing his bare skin.