He tried to think about what he was doing here, about his insane idea to launch the charity event, and why he was doing all of that, even this, with a woman he hardly knew.
Then she opened her eyes and caught him staring at her so intently, while they were moving so intimately, so in sync, with one another. And she smiled, then she laughed, and leaned down to brace herself on his chest as she moved on him, her smile bolder, more confident, than he’d ever seen it. He gave himself completely over to her, to the moment, as she took him, directed the action, rode him…and damn, but a confident, bold, sassy Kirby was a thing to witness indeed.
She tightened on him and her movements turned from commanding to sultry as she tipped her head back, arched into the movement with him, and allowed herself to simply be taken over by the moment. It was all he could do to hold on, to hold back, long enough for her to climb that peak again.
She’d barely gone over the edge when he was yanked right to the brink of it himself. He tugged her down and rolled her beneath him, her moans and gasps as he kissed the hot skin on the side of her neck as he drove himself even more deeply inside of her only served to yank things up a notch, to the point he thought he might pass out from the sheer force of it when he finally came. He drove hard and deep and she met each and every thrust with equal fervor. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his hips, her nails digging into his back as she nudged him from her neck to her mouth. Their kiss, in that moment as release pounded through him, was intensely primal and so very perfect.
He’d never once considered himself a possessive man, but right then, inside that very instant, that kiss, that final thrust, with her…he’d never wanted so badly to lay claim to another soul, to another heart, as he did with her. In fact, it was the only time he’d ever felt that way about anyone. He wanted her. In every way a man could want a woman. He wanted to have her, hold her, thrust so deeply inside of her to where he might lose his mind and all of his control, knowing without a shred of doubt that she’d take it, take him, and keep him right where he wanted most to be. He wanted to laugh with her, tease her, be teased by her.
He wanted to love her.
Their bodies slowed, but his mind kept racing.
When he slid from her and rolled to his side, she followed, her body curving perfectly into his. He wrapped his arm around her, keeping them pressed closely, their slick skin gradually cooling as their heartbeats slowed.
There were no words for that kind of communication, that effortless, natural union of mind, body, and soul. It had nothing to do with the incredible sex, and everything to do with finding that person, that one person, you could commune with on any level, by any means, verbal, nonverbal, physical, all of it, or none of it. It was just there. And he had to believe it was just like that for her, too.
For that, for the continuation of that, for as long as was humanly possible, he discovered, he was willing to do almost anything.
He kept her close as her breathing steadied. He stroked her hair, watched her face, knew her thoughts were winding around, and wondered where she was inside her head. “Knock knock,” he said, gently tapping on her temple. “What’s going on in there?”
She pushed him to his back, shifting against him so she could prop her chin on her hand, which was laying on his chest. He thought perhaps all conversations between them should take place just like this.
She smiled at him, looking so content, so relaxed. But her thoughts were already on to other things. Not that he could blame her. She was facing rather critical circumstances. He was just happy she was more willing now to talk to him, with him, about it.
“You’re really wonderful, you know. Stepping in like you are, to help me save my place.”
He didn’t stop stroking her hair as it soothed them both. He wished she wasn’t so hard on herself, about accepting help, especially his help, but he didn’t know much more about her past than how her last relationship ended. And that it had also been tangled up in her business career at the time. He was getting that it had to have been complicated and that there was probably even more, deeper below the surface. But those were all layers he wanted to know, too. She was imperfect. So was he. So he’d give her whatever time it took for her to work it out. But he’d also let her know that he wasn’t her past. He was, at the very least, her present. And he wasn’t going anywhere while they saw this through. “But?” he queried when she didn’t continue right away.
“I know it’s your call, your business…but, be honest with me, would you have returned to playing poker if not for this generous offer of yours?”
“I don’t mind playing poker.” Which, he realized, saying it, was the truth. “I don’t plan on playing professionally any longer, but for charity, and helping out a town in need, I don’t mind playing. I like the game itself.” Also true. “It’s endlessly fascinating to me, in fact.”
“Why? What about it appeals to you?”
He knew she wasn’t asking the obvious question, or expecting the obvious answer, which was usually some variety of “because I’m good at it” or “because it made me rich.”
“It makes me think. I like the randomness of it, and the specificity. There are only so many of each kind in each deck, only so many hands you can draw, and yet add in the mental element and the emotional element, and it’s not just about doing the math or playing the percentages. You’re also playing the people sitting around the table, who don’t have to be winners to rob you of the pot. I like the mathematical challenge; I like the mental challenge. But mostly I like the people challenge. And how the outcome is never obvious.”
“Interesting.” She smiled, like she’d figured something out about him she hadn’t already known.
He smiled back. “Interesting how?”
“You never mentioned the risk. Or the high you could get from pushing all that money around, the thrill of winning.”
“That’s never been why I played.”
She nudged him with her chin. “Easy to say for the guy with all the chips.”
“You don’t just get those handed to you, you know.”
“True. So, you’re not a risk junkie. Thrill seeker?”
“No. Risk is simply a factor of playing the game. One element, like all the rest, to be looked at, analyzed, and played accordingly. You can either seek to minimize the risk or exploit it. Everyone at the table is facing the same odds you are. You can play that angle, too.”
“So, it’s all angles, math, people, perception.”
“Yes.”
“And winning,” she said, her grin daring him to disagree.
“It was a handy by-product of my fascination, yes.”
“You sound so…clinical about it. Assuming you’ve had above-average success, I guess I’d have assumed you’d be more passionate.”
“About the game itself, I have been. Maybe not so much of late. But keeping a clear head-clinical if you will-is key. At least for me. Lose your head; lose your wallet. And your heart. I never wanted to be in a position where a game had the power to break my heart.”
“So…what happened to change that? Did you burn out or decide to get out before it did break your heart?”
“I love the game of poker, just not the rest of what comes with it. However, it’s given me pretty much everything I have, outside of family and friends that is. And it’s provided for them as well. So I have to respect it, respect that.”
“But?”
“But, it’s not what I pictured myself doing, or being. Not long term. It just sort of happened, and at a time when the income was needed and the help for others was needed. Then, it sort of took on a life of its own. And, I guess, to some degree, I felt kind of responsible for keeping it going, even when I was well past needing it for myself any longer.”
“So, why not walk away? At some point, you’re not obligated to help anyone else, right? It can’t always be about putting everyone’s needs above your own. What you want and need has value, too. The people you care about would respect that, want that even. And if they don’t, well that’s something to think about, isn’t it? But even worse would be if
“What’s wrong?”
