“You didn’t drink, Ice,” she pointed out. “There’s no taking unfair advantage.”
He was almost desperate to avoid thinking about her lips wrapped around his cock. He picked up his glass and downed the liquid, noticing his brothers exchanging peculiar little grins with one another. He couldn’t interpret them because he was too busy trying to get his wayward mind off her lips.
He turned to the cue sticks and hefted a couple of them before choosing the one he wanted while she handed his glass to Maestro. Maestro handed his glass off to Keys.
“You break first.”
Her eyebrow went up. “I see you didn’t learn from the darts.”
“I learned. No mercy, woman. That’s what I learned. But I am a gentleman . . .”
There was a derisive snort behind him and he turned to glare at Maestro, even as Soleil burst into laughter.
“He’s a fuckin’ liar,” Maestro said. “He’s a hustler with a cue stick.”
She flashed a smile at Maestro that made something dark and ugly swirl in Ice’s gut. He’d never been jealous in his life, certainly not over a woman, and not when she smiled at his brother. He had no problems sharing as a rule, but he meant what he’d said to Soleil. No one touched her but him. That smile was innocent enough on her end, but hell, she was so sexy without knowing, his brothers were right. He was going to spend a lot of time beating the shit out of outsiders who didn’t get the rules. The thought was uplifting.
“So am I,” Soleil assured Maestro.
“I think we should keep this game interesting,” Ice said. “When you miss, I get to ask you a question. You have to answer truthfully.” It was a game they all played, which was also part of a seduction plot they’d learned, and it always, always worked. They needed information to seduce their chosen mark, and the truth game was irresistible and invaluable.
She made a face at him and downed the rest of her drink before putting her glass on the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Maestro glance at her, send the others a small grin, pick up the glass and immediately leave for the bar. Yeah. His brothers. He’d fuckin’ die for them.
“Just as long as when you miss, you have to answer my question,” she agreed.
“No one-word answers,” Ice added. “You have to actually answer the question.”
Soleil racked the balls and then made the break, sinking a striped ball immediately. She circled the table until she was almost standing in front of Ice. He was acutely aware of her, the scent of her, the way her hair cascaded down her back, that incredible shine under the lights.
She bent slowly toward the table and his heart nearly stopped. She wasn’t trying to be seductive, he was absolutely certain of that. She was too innocent. He could see her full concentration was on her shot, but the way the folds of the skirt fell over her ass called his attention to the way she was shaped. So perfectly. A woman’s feminine form had always been pleasing to him. She had a perfect, heart-shaped ass, one that just called to a man like him, putting all sorts of dirty, very erotic thoughts in his head.
His brothers said he was an artist. He would never claim such a title, but that said, he did like to look at a woman’s body. Her physical form. There was such beauty in the way she was put together. Looking at her, he waged a battle with himself. Let her go, which he knew he should. She was too classy for a man like him. She wouldn’t have a clue how to be in his world, and if he was honest with himself, that was half the reason he wanted her.
He cursed under his breath, fighting his protective, selfish nature. He was the very devil stalking her, and she was an angel chased by demons straight to him. Shit. He knew better than to trap her. Those kinds of things never worked out. Never. He’d convinced himself she needed him and so the exchange was fair, but it was bullshit, and he knew it.
While he was fighting to save her, she’d sunk four more balls. She turned her head, still bent over the table, her mouth so close to his groin he nearly felt her breath on the front of his jeans. She looked at him, as serious as sin.
“If I don’t remember to tell you again, Ice, thank you for tonight. You have no idea what you’ve done for me. You most likely saved my life.” She turned back to contemplate the table.
He stood there staring at her. Slowly, he lifted his gaze to the others crowded around watching. They’d all heard her. She wasn’t being melodramatic. There was a ring of truth in her voice. He looked to Absinthe. He was a human lie detector. Absinthe’s nod was barely there, but it told Ice Soleil had just revealed something extremely important. Whoever her ex-fiancé was, he wanted her dead and she was terrified he’d succeed.
A woman like Soleil should go to the cops for protection, yet she hadn’t. Why? That didn’t make sense, but the fact that she was in that kind of trouble hardened his resolve to keep her. He could keep her safe, make all her troubles go away. He could do that. He was that man.
Her ball spun in the pocket and leapt back out. He whistled softly. “You almost ran the table, darlin’, but almost doesn’t count. You owe me an answer.”
She sent him a small smile and a shrug. “I didn’t want you to feel bad, you know, a girl beating the crap out of you at pool. What’s your question?”
“Never worried, princess. I’m not the kind of man who gets upset if my woman manages to squeak out a win. I’d be proud.”
She looked pleased. “Let’s see what you can do.”
“What’s your best and worst trait?” Ice asked as he walked around the pool table, studying the position of all the balls. She hadn’t left him much of a shot, and she’d sunk nearly all the stripes.
“You only get one question. That’s two.”
He flashed her a grin. “Worst, then. Might as well get it over with.”
She narrowed her eyes as she watched him line up his shot and then call it. He banked his ball, clipped and then sank it. His grin widened, and he reached for his drink, took a sip and indicated hers.
Soleil sighed and took a healthy drink before pushing a few stray strands of hair out of her face. When she lifted her arm to push her fingers through her hair, her breasts rose, calling his immediate attention to her straining tits. He swore her nipples were hard, pushing against the thin material of her dress, trying to get to him.
He felt around for his glass again, staring at her breasts. Maestro handed him his drink and he all but downed it before he remembered he had to stay in control. He was sweating. Breathing too hard. His cock a fucking spike in his jeans.
“I drift. I’m a drifter. I don’t like conflict and I never can make a decision, so I just drift along. I’m working on it all the time, but I still find myself just going along with something when I shouldn’t. Like Winston.”