All In (9 page)

“Not here on the couch,” she said.

He nodded and followed her to her bedroom where she lit one of the chocolate scented candles she kept on her dresser. He held her gaze as they undressed on opposite sides of the bed. When they were both naked, they met under the covers. Tucker slid his arms around her and covered her mouth with his again. The feeling of his long, lean body pressed close was sublime. Her skin felt abnormally sensitized. She was supremely aware of the hair on his legs as they rubbed against hers, the play of muscles in his back, the hard heat of his cock along her thigh.

When he moved down and took her nipple between his lips, she shuddered. Nothing in her whole life felt as good as Tucker making love to her. As before, she found herself trying to memorize every sensation, every action, so that later, if they parted ways again, she’d have a new cache of memories to draw on. But it was hard. She wanted to forget about the past and the future and just live for the now, the now of his lips kissing her shoulder, his hand skimming her waist, his body moving over hers as she parted her legs.

She moaned as he sucked on her. He pulled on the sensitive tip in a lazy rhythm, almost absentmindedly, like he intended to go on like this for hours. His cock pressed against her pussy, but he didn’t try to enter her yet. Slow and easy seemed the theme tonight.

Mariah let the sensations roll over her like a summer breeze across a meadow. His strong hand caressed her other breast, kneading it and occasionally grazing the nipple with his thumb until she moved restlessly beneath him. The wet suction made her throb with longing, and when she thought she couldn’t stand it anymore, he captured the other breast with his mouth, pulling on it with a soft rhythm that she felt in warm pulses between her legs. Then she felt his hand there, probing her swollen pussy. He groaned as he eased a finger inside.

“God, Mariah. You’re so wet.”

His finger moved in and out, adding layers to the languid sensations building within her. Moving back up, he kissed her again, more deeply this time. His mouth took hers so thoroughly that she felt like she had no power over herself at all.

When he finally put a condom on and slid inside her, the feeling of his cock slowly filling her while they kissed brought her to the brink of tears. It was so incredibly wonderful, she didn’t want it to ever end. What had started as a lark, a carefree sexual caper, had morphed into something more—much more.

She loved him.

He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man. His uncanny skill at poker amazed her. When he played, he was like a computer—she could almost see the synapses firing in his brain. Yet despite the fame and wealth, he remained surprisingly humble. He was loyal, supportive and so sexy that just one lazy smile had her panting. And most of all, he treated her like a queen.

The question was, how did he feel about her? And if he did care for her, were the feelings genuine or were they conjured by magic, destined to disappear at the appointed hour?

She looked up at him as he gently rocked against her. He smiled and tears threatened again. To hide them from him, she wrapped one leg around his hip and rolled until she was straddling him. She wasn’t going to ruin things by exposing too much emotion too soon.

Tucker placed his hands on her waist and gazed up at Mariah. Some of her face was in shadow and her eyes were closed. Her pearly skin reflected the light from the windows, giving her an ethereal appearance, like a moon goddess. She looked so goddamned beautiful it felt as if a giant hand were squeezing his chest.

Keeping his eyes on her face, Tucker slid his hands up to cup her breasts. He’d been eyeing them all evening, counting the moments until he could finally feel their soft weight in his hands. Her nipples tightened as he pulled on them gently, and she arched her back when he pinched harder, then squeezed.

He’d meant it earlier when he’d said all he could think about was fucking her. For the past twenty-four hours, he’d been obsessed with sex, and yet tonight it was more than just physical pleasure. Although he reveled in the feeling of her tight pussy sliding up and down his shaft and how her ass brushed his balls with each stroke, tonight he somehow felt a deeper connection with her, like he was drawing to a flush, one card at a time.

Her breathing grew erratic. She began to ride him harder, shifting her hips more quickly, demanding more, taking it. But it didn’t seem to be enough. Covering his hands with her own, she opened her eyes and looked down at him.

“God, Tucker,” she said in a strangely intense tone, “I want it so much. Please, please give it to me.”

She spoke with such longing that he wasn’t exactly sure she was talking about sex, but everything in him damn well wanted to give it to her. He levered up so they were eye to eye and he could enfold her in his arms. With her breasts pressed against his chest, his cock embedded deep inside her, he kissed her.

“Okay, baby, okay,” he said. “Whatever you need. I promise.”

With one arm around her waist, he leaned forward until she was on her back, her head at the foot of the bed.

A frown creased her forehead and she closed her eyes to him again. Anxious and restless, he braced himself with both hands and started pumping. He was on a mission now. Fuck the hell out of her. Fuck her hard and fast. Give her a mind-blowing climax, because damned if he was going to see that pleading look in her eye again.

With a desperate determination, he drove into her over and over. Their bodies slapped together in a fierce tempo and Mariah clutched his shoulders and met him thrust for thrust. It wasn’t long before he was sweating with the effort to keep pounding her while withholding his own orgasm. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep the pace without losing it.

“Come on, Mariah,” he said between breaths. “Come for me, baby.”

“Don’t stop, Tucker, don’t—”

She dug her fingernails into his arms and he thrust even harder.

“God, I—right there, Tucker! There, there—”

And she came. Thank God. Calling out, she arched off the bed, squeezing his cock with her tight, wet pussy. Almost crying with relief, he gave in too. His orgasm hit him so hard, he felt delirious, like his circuits had overloaded and he was in danger of blacking out. But he didn’t. He felt each and every powerful blast, sharing Mariah’s pleasure, realizing it magnified his own in a way he’d never experienced before.

Slick with perspiration and gasping for breath, he rested some of his weight on her. She lay beneath him, her eyes still closed, her face turned to the side. Even though he was still deeply embedded inside her, he couldn’t help but feel she had closed him out somehow, and damned if that didn’t bother him.

The next afternoon while Rhonda was getting her hair done, Tony met Tucker for lunch at the Asian place inside the Venetian casino. They each ordered their food, and then Tony, being Tony, cut to the chase.

“So the cake lady, Mariah, she’s pretty special. You serious about her?”

Tucker pulled his chopsticks apart and examined them for wayward splinters. “It might sound crazy, but yeah, I think maybe I am,” he admitted, somewhat relieved to be able to discuss the situation with his friend. “She’s funny and sexy…smart and a hell of a businesswoman. In fact, you and Rhonda need to go see her store before you go home. It’s a high-class place, really impressive. And her chocolate kicks ass. Honestly.”

“Rhonda loves chocolate.”

“And wait until you see the cake. I helped make it.”

“You’re kidding me,” Tony said with a laugh. “Mom’d be proud.”

Tucker nodded. When Claudia inevitably found out about his part in creating the cake, he knew she’d exclaim over his piping skills. As reserved as his own mother was, Claudia was the opposite, happily demonstrative and generous with her praise and approval.

“So,” Tony said as the waiter delivered their potstickers, “assuming she’s good in the sack, Mariah sounds like the perfect woman.”

Tucker speared Tony with a look.

“Hey, I know. Off limits.” Tony popped a potsticker in his mouth. “But you have to admit,” he said around his food, “it’s important.”

“Yeah, I agree it’s important,” Tucker conceded. “And just so we can put this business to rest once and for all, Mariah and I are good in that department.”

Tony’s irrepressible grin returned. “Yeah. I
heard
. Remember?” Tony cackled and Tucker had to laugh too.

“Not only that,” Tucker said, dipping one of the appetizers into the sauce. “She likes me.”

Tony chuckled. “Also important.”

“No, I mean she
really
likes me.”

As Tony chowed down a couple more potstickers, Tucker explained how faithfully Mariah had followed his progress on the WPT.

“No shit?” Tony said, washing down his food with a slug of Coke. “She’s not psycho, is she? She didn’t seem psycho.”

“No. Come on, she’s not psycho at all. She just, you know, carried a torch for me.” Tucker tapped a finger on the table, wishing he had a stack of poker chips to shuffle.

“I’ll say. And what about you? You think about her since then?”

“Yeah, sure. Once in a while I wondered what would have happened if we’d tried to make a go of it, even though we lived a million miles apart. She and I really clicked, you know what I mean? We talked for hours. Like you and me used to do at the dorm.”

Tony nodded. “Well, I think you oughta see where it goes with her, because I’ll tell you what. The universe dropped her back into your life for a reason. And what are the odds that she happens to be the woman me and Rhonda hired for our cake? Astronomical.”

“You got that right.”

“Yeah, and you know odds,” Tony said, pointing his chopsticks at Tucker for emphasis. “Maybe you were supposed to hook up with Mariah six years ago, but you blew it. Maybe you’re getting a second chance.”

Tucker ate the last potsticker. Tony wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t already figured out. He’d known since last night he wanted to pursue things with Mariah. When he was on a winning streak, he strove to control his excitement, because high emotion during a game, whether it be anger, elation or fear, could ruin you. But with Mariah, all bets were off. His feelings for her refused to be corralled—not that he wanted them to. Whenever he was with her, the world seemed…better, brighter. He compared it to those times when he was inside a casino, playing for hours in the cavelike, smoky environment. When he finally ventured outside, he was always struck by the clarity of the air, the sense that he’d emerged from a self-imposed dungeon. Being with Mariah was like that. All it took was her presence—no, actually, all it took was for him to
think
of her—for him to feel wondrously and vibrantly alive.

“Earth to Tucker,” Tony said. “Food’s here.”

Tucker blinked. “Sorry. I was thinking.”

Tony studied his face and then asked in a falsetto, “What are you thinking about?” Then he batted his eyelashes, bringing a half smile to Tucker’s lips.

“Actually,” Tucker said, coming to a sudden decision, “I’m thinking about moving here. I’d be close to the action and save a lot on airfare. That kind of thing.” He dug into his fried rice, spearing a shrimp.

“Airfare. Right,” Tony said with a chuckle. “Sounds like a good career move.”

* * * * *

Outside her store, arms crossed, Mariah looked at the pink and brown awning and the gorgeous hand-painted “Chocolate Fantasies” sign, trying to summon up the pride she usually felt at her achievement. Instead, she got nothing but anxiety and the sense that somewhere in Fairy Central, or wherever Davina’s headquarters were, a picture of her was displayed with a digital clock—the kind that counted tenths of a second and the red LED numbers flashed too quickly to see.

Last night she had wanted to enjoy herself without thinking about consequences, but with the arrival of morning came the niggling worry that the pamphlet was important after all. Davina had said, “If you want whatever’s going on between you two to continue…” And that “if” had started flashing in her mind too, like a two-letter warning beacon. Every “if” had a “then”. What was the “then”?

Mariah rubbed her temples. Damn Davina for even putting the idea of a Happily Ever After into her head. Damn Livvy for ever suggesting they buy those stupid bracelets and damn Paige for arranging that weekend cruise in the first place. For that matter, Mariah thought, pacing in front of her store, damn anyone who ever wrote an HEA story. She was beginning to feel like Happily Ever After was the adult version of the Santa myth. No matter how hard you tried to believe in it, eventually you grew up and realized it was bullshit.

Why couldn’t she have just wished for bigger boobs or some beachfront property in Malibu? Neither of those things came with wrenching heartache looming in her future. She’d already gotten a taste of
that
when Tucker had left her place two hours ago so she could get ready for work. Shakespeare lied when he’d said parting was sweet sorrow. There was nothing sweet about it. Parting, when you were in love, pretty much sucked.

Mariah had tried to act as if nothing was bothering her, but Tucker’s powers of observation were too keen. He knew something was going on, but thankfully he didn’t question her about it because it wasn’t as if she could have said, “Yeah, my wish fairy gave me the wrong pamphlet and so now I’m worried that we’re not going to end up riding toward the royal palace tomorrow in a sparkly pumpkin carriage.”