Betrayed by a Kiss (13 page)

“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life.” His eyes were fevered and his smile hesitant. If he was breathing, she couldn’t see it. MacLain was poised to strike but making a great effort to appear cool about it.

A bet was a bet. He’d earned the show. Marnie stood, unsnapped the halter dress, and allowed it to flow down her curves to her ankles. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. Charm was gone, and in its place was hunger. His eyes paused a moment on the butterfly bandages at her waist. The gunshot wound had left her marked, scarred, and it wasn’t pretty. An allegory for her life. He didn’t know everything about her, but he knew enough to guess what might be lurking in the nooks and crannies of her past, and still he wanted her. She lifted her chin, waiting for him to indicate he was done looking, that she should dress again. Instead, he surprised her.

He stood, the bed between them, and shed his pants, his briefs, and was as naked as she. As glorious, as wanted, as anticipated as she. He waited as she reveled in the pleasure of viewing his strength, prowess, and beauty. His muscles were taut, sculpted from hard use, and his skin was flushed, as if his heart were racing, as hers raced. He was aroused and waiting for her. All it would take was a look, a nod maybe, and he’d take all her indecision away with a kiss. She knew that. She could tell he knew it also. Yet he waited, demanding she show more courage than that. If she wanted to touch him, she would have to reach out past her fears, past her fast rules designed to protect her life and heart. If she wanted him, she had to touch him.

“Ten thousand dollars.” She needed to think. Wanting him, getting what she wanted, scared the shit out of her. “If you change your mind—”

“I won’t.”

“I’ll step in, no questions asked. It’s our one shot to get the money under the radar.” Even she could hear the wobble of her voice. She felt panicky and couldn’t remember why this was a bad idea.

“Come to me.”

“This is a mistake.” She stepped to him and rested her hand over his heart, feeling it beat through his muscular chest. Something this good had to hurt.

“Then it’s a mistake I can’t wait to make.” MacLain kissed her, demanding she welcome him inside her mouth. Marnie moaned, taking his tongue in, tasting him, reveling in his warmth. His hand covered her breast, flicked her nipple. A shot of pleasure seared between her legs, buckling her knees. He caught her and laid her on the bed, never once breaking the kiss.

Marnie threaded her fingers through his hair, loving how his warm body felt up against hers. Desperate to stay in the moment, in the kiss, mind wiped of her damage and the rules that protected her heart, Marnie ignored her vulnerability, pretending there’d be no consequence. It was the only way she could kiss him and not be afraid.

“For the first time in a long time I feel alive.” He tasted her neck. “You make me feel alive.”

Marnie’s heart burst open, and in he went. Everything—every worry, every fear, every heartbreak—melted, and in its place she felt happy. It made no sense that her eyes welled with tears. She blinked them away, kissing him as he drew his hand down her belly to her curls, covering her and caressing her warmth. Her body responded by arching toward him, toward the pleasure he gave her. When she felt herself succumbing, drowning in his kisses, she grabbed his shoulders, broke the kiss. “Dane!” She wanted to touch him, too.

“I’m here.” Dane pulled her thigh to his hip and settled between her legs, careful not to put pressure on her injury. “Tell me this is what you want.” His arousal pressed against her heat, rubbing; she couldn’t think, she wanted more. “Marnie. Honey.” He kissed her, devouring her mouth, breathing with her, one with her. “Tell me you want me.”

“I want you.” She ran her hands down his muscular chest and used her fingertips to rake his glorious six-pack as he positioned himself to enter her, pausing long enough to catch her gaze. She met his unasked question with a shy smile. She wanted this. “I really do.”

He shifted his weight and filled her completely, inhaling sharply as she gasped with pleasure, blinded by it. Then he moved, and she found herself more vulnerable than she’d ever been in her life, helpless, needing him. She hadn’t seen that coming. She’d allowed him to matter. Marnie forced her fear down, hiding in the passion, his heat, his scent. Running her teeth along the stubble of his chin, she nipped at him. Dane was glorious. Locking her legs around his hips, she egged him on, arching upward, meeting his movements as her anticipation built. All the while he kept his gaze on her face, reveling in her every reaction to his caresses, his kisses. He had her trembling and wild, clutching at him.

Hunger met hunger with equal abandon, until their kisses became a need that empowered rather than frightened her. His ragged breath bathed her temple as she pressed her cheek to his neck. She was cresting and wanted him with her.

“Stay with me! Dane, stay with me!” She orgasmed. Its strength left nothing behind, not pride, not modesty, not even hope. Just peace, suspending her, filling her, glorious peace. Dane’s arms locked on both sides of her head as he rode to his release, every muscle of his body clenched for her, for them. Then he dropped to his elbows, resting his forehead on hers, both of them spent. And smiling.

She couldn’t catch her breath. Touching him felt divine and tapped into a happiness she wasn’t accustomed to. Damn, he almost had her purring.
This is what sex is supposed to be
, she thought, and damn, she’d been wasting her time up until now. He laughed, and she was laughing, too, overwhelmed and happy.

“Too bad we have someplace to go,” she said.

Dane nudged her with his chin, searching for her lips. His hand cupped her bottom, keeping her hips cradling his. He kissed her again, lingering, gentle, cherishing her. She’d never wanted a man like she wanted MacLain. She’d never allowed herself to.

This was a real problem.

There was no future in it. If they survived the heist, he’d fade away into a white-picket-fence life, and she knew she wasn’t in the running to keep him company. Like attached to like. He’d find a new Alice. Someone normal.

Dane rolled to the side, keeping her close. She hid her face against his chest, afraid of revealing her fear and ruining the moment. She didn’t want to move. She had him now. She’d try to make that enough.

The hotel room’s phone rang. They turned as one, staring at it. She was the first to react as she reluctantly separated from Dane’s heat to answer. “Yeah?” It was David, the game’s facilitator, confirming their attendance.

Hearing his voice rebooted everything, putting things into perspective with crystal clarity. She and Dane were embarking on a complicated grift, and the poker game wasn’t even the hardest part. It was time for Marnie to put her head back in the game.

After brief good-byes, she hung up and lay back on the bed, glaring at the popcorn ceiling. “This is it.”

MacLain cupped her breast and kissed the tip. It sent a wave of want through her that had her turning toward him, pressing herself against his side. “That’s what I’m beginning to think, too.”

She had no idea what he was talking about, and there was no time or incentive to delve into it. “I’m a mess and I have to get dressed.” With great reluctance, she dragged herself off the bed and searched the floor for her dress. It lay in a heap.

“Arrive looking like that and you’ll distract them.”

Marnie allowed herself a moment to admire him, to log what she was seeing and feeling for those nights when she was alone with Netflix and ice cream. Those days were coming sooner than she cared to admit. If she survived…

Giving his broad chest a lingering caress, she leaned in and kissed his glorious six-pack abs. The muscles tightened under her lips, making her smile. She’d miss them. Him. One more kiss for her memory vault couldn’t hurt anything. Marnie lowered herself over Dane, trembled when his hands cupped her breasts. She gave him a mind-bending kiss for courage and only stopped when her knees started buckling. When she straightened up, his hands moved to her ass. He was amused. She figured he must be feeling pretty good about himself right now. “Don’t judge. You’re gorgeous.”

With a wink, he hopped off the bed and pulled her into his arms, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “I think you’re gorgeous, too.” Her butterflies fluttered, and she couldn’t stop smiling as she stepped away from him, gathered up her dress and headed for the bathroom to repair the damage.

Fifteen minutes later, they took the elevator to the penthouse suite, holding hands as they walked through its foyer to a security door. She was uncomfortable holding his hand. It wasn’t something she did. Ever. But he seemed to think it’s what they should do, and she wanted to be normal, so she kept his hand. It was an added strain, but she wanted Dane to have all the moral support she could give for the game ahead. So holding his hand was an easy ask.

When they reached the suite’s door, she lifted her hand to knock, but Dane stopped her, surprising her with a lingering kiss. When he ended it, she found herself wobbling on her four-inch heels. He steadied her. “Wish me luck,” he said.

All she saw was his confidence. She didn’t know how he did it, but Dane had a way of making her think anything was possible. She feared it was part of this fantasy she was living out. Things were working out for them at every turn, but the other shoe
would
fall. It always did. “There’s no such thing as luck.”

He winked. “I found you, didn’t I?”

The door opened before she could knock, as if someone had been watching them through the peephole, waiting for their kiss to end. “Patrick!” It was a relief to see him. He was familiar, something she didn’t have to interpret. When he hugged her, she endured as she usually did, because it was expected, and sure, he was copping a feel, but it was good-natured and she liked the guy.

“Marnie! Don’t you own a phone? Would it have been so hard to let an old friend know you’re in town?”

Patrick was in his late thirties, five ten, balding, on the plump side, and strong as an ox. His hands were big enough to cover the whole of her ass cheek, and that’s exactly what he was doing. She slapped his hand and pushed him off her, glancing at Dane. He seemed annoyed but was checking his ego at the door. First impressions were important in a poker game. He needed to hide in plain sight.

“Where’s Serena?” She looked around the penthouse, only casually noting the black Steinway, the lush furnishings, and heavy taupe and brown drapery.

“She’s sick in the room. Caught a bug or something. She’s pissed she’s missing tonight’s game but didn’t want to risk the buy-in when she’s not a hundred percent. She’s going to be even more upset when she finds out you were here. I’d tell you to pop in to see her, but even I’m afraid to catch it. I arranged for separate rooms.”

Patrick and Serena were a married couple whose sole source of income was playing poker. They traveled from one big game to the next, their lives controlled by the when and where of the next game. The lifestyle was a lot of West Coast–East Coast travel, and insular. Marnie hadn’t been a regular player since her early years in college.

“David!” Patrick waved a man over, as Marnie assessed the other players.

Her heart sank when she saw Ralph Young, a sixty-year-old veteran of traveling games, sipping bourbon over by the table. When she thought of him, which was frequently, this was how she thought of him. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, the lenses so heavy he had to do it often. She suspected if he had a tell, it was somehow connected to pushing up those glasses, yet five years off and on playing cards with the man, learning from him, she never discovered a verifiable tell.

He caught her eye and nodded. She hadn’t returned his call last week. Things had gotten hairy at work. There hadn’t been time. But Ralph wouldn’t care. He was pissed. Damn. She couldn’t beat him. And if she couldn’t beat him, someone who’d played poker with him for years, she doubted MacLain could.

David approached. Charming, in his forties, good-looking in a slick sort of way, he kissed both her cheeks. David was the facilitator and arranged the game. He gathered enough players, located a comfortable site, acquired competent security, and kept the peace. All for a price, of course. A nice percentage off the top of the buy-ins. Today would earn David five thousand dollars for a few hours work. When this was done, he had another one scheduled to begin soon after it. She liked him, as much as you could like someone who saw you as a revenue stream.

David gave her outfit the once-over, pausing at the hem of her dress. She shifted her weight, allowing it to skim higher on her thighs. David smiled a thank-you. Dane’s fingers bit into her elbow. Startled by his show of possession, Marnie nonetheless forced herself not to react. David noticed anyway. He frowned at Dane.

“Marnie,” David said, “introduce me to your friend.”

Marnie pulled her elbow from Dane’s grip, stepped toward David, and patted his chest. The facilitator was pumping himself up like a cock about to fight.

She glared at Dane, silently telling him to behave. “Dane MacLain. This is David.”

“I’m playing.” Dane lifted his brows, as if asking if that was an issue.

David turned to Marnie. “But I thought—”

“I’m eye candy tonight.” She ran her hand down David’s chest. “Dane’s good.” She stepped away from him, into Dane’s arms, teasing a kiss out of him, making a big show of consoling him for her touching another man. Dane was all too willing to be appeased and kissed her back. It wasn’t, however, the peck she’d expected. They were working. They should be focused on the room. Dane kissed her until her toes curled, garnering everyone’s rapt attention by the time he was done, Marnie’s especially.

Flustered and struggling not to reveal it, she took the satchel of money from Dane and handed it to David. “His buy-in.” Using her finger, she attempted discretion as she fixed her lip gloss.

David took it without a word and handed it to his security man. With a flourish of his hand, he indicated the table. “Your timing is impeccable. We’re about to begin. Can I get either one of you a drink?”