The Gambler (5 page)

Turning, she pushed her hair over her
shoulder and noticed his gaze fell to her breasts. It was then she
realized she was still in her shift, the threadbare material
probably showing him every inch of her naked flesh underneath. She
wondered if he found her attractive. She was skinny and her breasts
were on the small side. Most men liked curves and plump hips, full,
high breasts and long legs. She had none of those things but it
didn’t stop him from looking nor did it stop the drowsy look in his
eyes, the slightest head tilt as he took her in.

She held back a smile. Men. Show them a naked
woman and their brains stopped functioning. Flash a little skin and
they usually did exactly what you needed them to. And right now,
she needed Tristan Avery to let his guard down so she could get her
hands on that land deed.

Hoping she had enough of what a man like him
looked for in a woman to entice him, she lifted her chin a notch,
trying to look more confident. “Will you be staying the night?” He
lifted his head, his eyes a bit too bright. “Or will you just come
back tomorrow to get me?”

He looked toward the door and she thought
then he’d be leaving but when he faced her and smiled, her pulse
leaped.

“Not sure leaving would be a good idea.” He
glanced at her breasts again. “Hard to say how much it’ll snow. Be
easier to just leave from here.”

Emmaline nodded. He was interested, bony
thing that she was. Just proved her theory. All men thought with
their cock and a naked woman, or half naked, in her case, was all
it took to grab their attention.

She sat the carpetbag on the floor and
reached for the ties holding her shift together and pulled the
ribbon, the material parting. The shift fell from her shoulders and
when it pooled at her feet, Tristan’s eyes widened. “Do you prefer
to be on top or bottom?”

Chapter Three

Tristan wasn’t sure why Emmaline just
stripped naked in front of him but when she crossed the room, all
that flesh displayed just for him, his cock jerked to life and
begged him to take her.

The lone candle in the room bathed her in a
warm orange glow that caressed her limbs, highlighted the curve of
her breasts and made her curves look more rounded than he knew they
were.

She reached for the buttons on his vest,
unhooking them before starting in on his shirt and it wasn’t until
she was pushing it all over his shoulders that he snapped out of
the daze he was in. He blinked and grabbed her hands. “What are you
doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” She
pulled his shirt and vest down his arms, trapping his hands in the
mounds of material. “I’m undressing you.”

Tugging at the material, she finally got it
off and tossed the clothing to the table behind him before reaching
for the waistband of his trousers. He grabbed her hands before she
could unhook them, staring down at her in disbelief.

Not once since realizing what a predicament
he’d left her in had his thoughts strayed to anything resembling
him taking her to his bed but now that she was standing in front of
him wearing nothing but a determined look on her face, he had to
admit, the thought wasn’t unappealing.

She was thinner than the women he usually
chose but in no way a complete disappointment. Her hips had a
gentle flair to them, her waist was tiny and her breasts… Lord,
they were almost perfect. They were just the right size to fit into
his palm, her nipples a dark rosy pink and turned up ever so
slightly, begging to be sucked. He swallowed and tried to will away
his erection as his fingers twitched with the wanting to touch
her.

“I think there’s been a little
misunderstanding, Emmaline.”

Looking up at him through her lashes, those
big brown eyes glistening in the filtered light, she smiled. “That
bulge in your pants tells me otherwise.”

Tristan took a step away from her, which only
made the situation worse. He could see her from head to toe now,
her shapely thighs leading to that thatch of hair covering her
womanly treasures and damn it all his cock was throbbing by the
time he raised his head and looked her in the eyes. “Am I correct
to assume you’re trying to seduce me?”

She laughed, the sound a tinkling vibration
in the room that caused his balls to ache. “Seduce you? I’m just
thanking you for all your trouble. Figured I might as well get it
over with but if you’d rather wait, I’m fine with that too.”

Thank him? For what? He stared at her,
noticing the longer he did, that her cheeks were turning pink. She
raised her arms to cover her breasts a moment later and when she
lifted her chin, her brows lowering a fraction, he realized his
refusal probably looked like he didn’t want her and he knew enough
about women to know, when offended, they made your life hell.

He smiled and inhaled a deep breath to calm
his raging need. “I don’t want you to thank me, Emmaline.” He
glanced down at her again, mentally berating himself for doing so.
“Not like this. I don’t need sexual favors from you, nor do I want
them. I’m helping you because I want to.”

Her face flamed bright red, her brows
lowering until she looked ready to stab him before turning on her
heel, giving him an enticing view of her backside. She picked up
her shift, sliding it over her head, and was covered in an
instant.

Without another word, she crawled into the
bed, turned her back to him, and pulled the blankets to her
ears.

He’d have to be a complete idiot to not
realize he’d just offended her gravely and he cursed himself for a
fool. Especially when he glanced around the room and realized there
was nowhere for him to sleep. Nowhere but the floor.

“If you’ve got another of those blankets, I
can make a pallet here in front of the stove.”

She grabbed one of the blankets covering her,
pulled and tugged until it came loose from the others, and tossed
it over her shoulder and into the floor.

Tristan picked it up, crossed the room and
sat down at the table to remove his boots. He looked to the stove
and the rug lying in front of it. A stab of longing hit him when he
remembered the warm comfortable bed he'd slept in the night before
at the hotel and he glanced over at Emmaline. He should have just
taken her when she offered. At least he would have been able to
share the bed with her. Now all he had was the cold, hard ground
and it left a lot to be desired.

Standing, he crossed to the stove, a trickle
of heat filling the air around it and sat, pulled the shabby
blanket to his chin, and laid back. He instantly regretted it. The
draft near the floor was enough to cause a chill to creep into his
trousers and within minutes, he debated putting his shirt back on.
He wouldn’t get a bit of sleep like this. He’d have to travel a
full day, sleep deprived, with a waif of a girl to look after.

He closed his eyes, trying to ignore the
situation and long minutes passed before a small noise registered.
A soft clicking that stopped ever so often then started back up
again.

Turning to look about the room, he traced the
sound to behind him, to the bed where Emmaline slept. Concentrating
on the noise, he realized that it was her teeth chattering.

The bed was next to the wall and he’d
inspected the old cabin enough to know the cracks between the
boards let in enough cold air she might as well be sleeping
outside.

His thin blanket would probably do her more
good than him and he sat up, thinking to put his coat back on and
just make the best of it. When he stood and reached the bedside, he
realized the best way to keep them both from freezing was to climb
into that bed with her. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t already offered
to share it with him.

Draping the blanket across her, she turned as
he grabbed the edge of the blankets and plopped down with her, her
wide eyes fixed on him until he settled and laid his head down. She
looked over her shoulder and met his gaze briefly before lying back
down without a word.

In no time, his body started to warm, and
hers too, and when the languid, drowsy feelings sleep brought with
it hit him, he smiled at how small and soft she was. Lying next to
her felt good.

He shifted closer, bent his knees to the line
of hers and was spooning, one arm rising to wrap around her tiny
waist. He could smell the soap in her hair when he shifted his
head, the faint feminine scent of some flowery fragrance on her
skin. The heat from her body, that enticing smell of a woman so
close caused his mind to wander. To imagine feeling her soft curves
molded against him flesh to flesh and that throbbing erection just
wouldn’t go away. It ached and begged him to lift her shift and
find a nice, warm place to settle in for the night.

He ignored the ache, tried to think of
anything except Emmaline and hoped like hell she didn’t move. If
she moved her hips an inch, he’d have to chop his own cock off or
just take her.

* * * *

Her embarrassment at him not wanting her fled
the longer she laid there. Feeling him against her bottom, hard and
ready, caused her heart to pound so hard, Emmaline wondered if he
could hear it. She stared at the wall, taking shallow breaths, and
felt every inch of him along her back; the heat from his body
warming her until she felt hot and her limbs tingled from it.

Had he changed his mind? If so, why was he
just lying there?

Emmaline chewed her bottom lip, wondering
what he was waiting for. He hadn’t made a move since wrapping his
arm around her and the longer she lay there the more convinced she
was he wanted her to make the first move. Typical. She threw
herself at him and now he wanted her to do it again.

She glanced at him over her shoulder. His
head was on the pillow and he appeared to be asleep, but she knew
better. His breathing hadn’t evened out yet and his erection was
poking her in the butt. Long minutes of wondering what to do and
Emmaline realized he must be waiting on her to relax into the idea
again.

Turning in the small bed, she faced him, his
arm around her waist moving as she did and when she could see his
face, she waited for him to open his eyes. He never did.

Moving closer, she lifted her head, tucking
it under his chin, her lips barely touching the soft skin of his
throat. He smelled really good, she noticed. Much better than
Jensen Cooper did and for that alone she was grateful.

Lifting her hand, she laid it on his chest,
the warm flesh smooth. The muscles on his stomach bunched slightly
from the way he was lying and she drank him in, her gaze devouring
him before she lowered her hand to the fastening of his trousers.
She got them unhooked and pulled the fabric back when his hand shot
out, capturing her wrist so fast she jumped, startled, and let out
a small squeak.

“You’re determined to seduce me, aren’t
you?”

Her eyes widened. “I’m not trying to seduce
you.”

He chuckled and relaxed the grip he had on
her wrist. “Really? Because from where I’m lying, it sure feels
like it.”

Humiliation burned like flames across her
face and Emmaline was glad it was so dark. She stared at his chest,
her thoughts running wild inside her head.

Tristan released her wrist and raised his
hand, cupping his fingers under her chin to lift her head up. She
avoided looking at him and it wasn’t until his thumb ran across her
bottom lip that she did. “What is it you’re doing, Emmaline?” She
didn’t answer and avoided eye contact. “I don’t need to be thanked,
if that’s why you’re doing this, but if you want me, then by all
means, help yourself.” His fingers tangled into her hair. He pulled
her head back, forcing her to look at him. “I won’t complain nor
refuse.”

He didn’t
want her but he did? Emmaline was so confused; she wasn’t sure what
to do. He was staring down at her, waiting, and the silence in the
room was unnerving.
Was
she trying to seduce him? And
was she doing it because, like most men, they’d want to be thanked?
Or was it more?

She stared at him, the scent of his skin
tickling her senses. His flesh was so warm against her own, it felt
as if she was bathed in soft satin. If she were honest with
herself, she’d know she wanted him for purely selfish reasons. He
was a handsome devil, strongly built with wide shoulders and a
solid chest. She wasn’t a virgin by any man’s standards but not
once had she ever been more to a man than a warm, some-what willing
woman in their bed. She’d never felt anything with those she’d been
with. No miniscule hint of pleasure they all seemed to find. The
loathing she always felt during and after the act, left her feeling
dirty and naked for the entire world to see.

But she didn’t feel like that now. Not with
Tristan. Her pulse was racing and an incessant throb was beating
between her legs. The way he'd looked at her earlier when she'd
stood naked before him left her feeling almost pretty, like the
kind of woman a man would want for something other than to just
bang into the mattress then leave. She knew without asking he'd
probably been with more saloon whores than she could count and the
thought of having a man love her and actually mean it was tempting.
Would he kiss her first or just climb on top of her and do his
business? For some reason, she didn't think he'd be so selfish.
He'd kiss her like he meant it and not leave bruises on her when he
was finished taking what he wanted.