him like a VIP, and he did his best never to let on how uncomfortable that made him. He hadn’t gotten into poker to get rich; he’d started playing because it was the only thing he was good at.
Charlie used his room card to get the elevator to his floor. When he got to his suite, he pulled out his laptop and opened the video of one of his competitors at his last tournament. The guy was a wiz with the cards, and Charlie had yet to discover any tells. He didn’t even fidget.
But when the video came on the screen, Charlie couldn’t focus. His mind kept drifting back to the possibility of being a father. Charlie had wasted too many years filled with bitterness toward a father he’d never known. Had his child felt the same way? Was the kid even his?
He’d never had unprotected sex. His mother had taught him right. But even diligent use of condoms didn’t guarantee a thing.
He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Until he had answers, thinking about it was just a mind-fuck. He needed to think about something else.
His mind instantly landed on Riley. There was something he didn’t want to get out of his mind. Not her or that fucking sexy get-up he’d bought her. He imagined her dark hair swishing against the pale skin of her back as he helped her lace up the leather corset. He just wanted to sit in a room and watch her walk around in snug leather, her breasts pressed high, her ass exposed in the thong.
What kind of idiot man wouldn’t want Riley to wear that for him? It wasn’t that Charlie didn’t love nude—hell, it was his healthy respect for nude that made him appreciate lingerie so much. Lingerie teased, hinted at nude. Made a promise like the tip of a female tongue against cock before she took him in her mouth.
He’d been somehow gratified to learn that she had a whole collection of the naughty stuff, as if someone had confirmed every private image he’d ever had of her.
He closed his eyes and groaned. He was rock hard again. Thoughts of Riley did that to him.
How serious could she be about a guy she couldn’t wear lingerie for?
He was ready to find out.
***
“How did your date go last night?”
Riley looked up from her keyboard to see her father standing before her, suit jacket draped over his arm. His tie was off, a sure sign he was done doing business for the day. “It was good.”
Quinton nodded. “Chaz seems to be a nice boy.”
Riley laughed. “He’s thirty-two, hardly a boy, Daddy.”
“You’re all kids to me.” He ran a hand threw his thinning gray hair. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Riley’s heart squeezed, knowing he was so uncomfortable with aging. Much like Sean Connery and Harrison Ford, her father had aged well, and didn’t look anywhere near his true seventy-four years. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“I have to finish up a few things here and then I have dance class but no other plans.”
Her father frowned. Though he tried not to say much about it, he hated her decision to continue dancing. He worried.
“Daddy, relax. It’s just what I do for exercise.” She reached across her desk and squeezed his hand. “I’m not her,” she said in a whisper.
He nodded. “I know that.” His voice was gruff. If the rest of the business world knew what a softie this hotelier was under his hardnosed exterior, it might be the death of his empire. “Do you need any money…for anything?”
Riley smiled and shook her head. “I have everything I need.” He’d never be comfortable with her insistence that she make her own way, but she had to credit him for never pushing too hard.
She wasn’t privy to what had gone on behind the scenes when her father had adopted her thirteen years ago, but her mother hadn’t even been in the ground before Riley had been swept off to Quinton Carter’s mansion, a tiny pink suitcase containing her favorite things in her hand. She’d been shown around her new home
Charlie used his room card to get the elevator to his floor. When he got to his suite, he pulled out his laptop and opened the video of one of his competitors at his last tournament. The guy was a wiz with the cards, and Charlie had yet to discover any tells. He didn’t even fidget.
But when the video came on the screen, Charlie couldn’t focus. His mind kept drifting back to the possibility of being a father. Charlie had wasted too many years filled with bitterness toward a father he’d never known. Had his child felt the same way? Was the kid even his?
He’d never had unprotected sex. His mother had taught him right. But even diligent use of condoms didn’t guarantee a thing.
He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about this anymore. Until he had answers, thinking about it was just a mind-fuck. He needed to think about something else.
His mind instantly landed on Riley. There was something he didn’t want to get out of his mind. Not her or that fucking sexy get-up he’d bought her. He imagined her dark hair swishing against the pale skin of her back as he helped her lace up the leather corset. He just wanted to sit in a room and watch her walk around in snug leather, her breasts pressed high, her ass exposed in the thong.
What kind of idiot man wouldn’t want Riley to wear that for him? It wasn’t that Charlie didn’t love nude—hell, it was his healthy respect for nude that made him appreciate lingerie so much. Lingerie teased, hinted at nude. Made a promise like the tip of a female tongue against cock before she took him in her mouth.
He’d been somehow gratified to learn that she had a whole collection of the naughty stuff, as if someone had confirmed every private image he’d ever had of her.
He closed his eyes and groaned. He was rock hard again. Thoughts of Riley did that to him.
How serious could she be about a guy she couldn’t wear lingerie for?
He was ready to find out.
***
“How did your date go last night?”
Riley looked up from her keyboard to see her father standing before her, suit jacket draped over his arm. His tie was off, a sure sign he was done doing business for the day. “It was good.”
Quinton nodded. “Chaz seems to be a nice boy.”
Riley laughed. “He’s thirty-two, hardly a boy, Daddy.”
“You’re all kids to me.” He ran a hand threw his thinning gray hair. He’d been doing that a lot lately. Riley’s heart squeezed, knowing he was so uncomfortable with aging. Much like Sean Connery and Harrison Ford, her father had aged well, and didn’t look anywhere near his true seventy-four years. “Do you have plans tonight?”
“I have to finish up a few things here and then I have dance class but no other plans.”
Her father frowned. Though he tried not to say much about it, he hated her decision to continue dancing. He worried.
“Daddy, relax. It’s just what I do for exercise.” She reached across her desk and squeezed his hand. “I’m not her,” she said in a whisper.
He nodded. “I know that.” His voice was gruff. If the rest of the business world knew what a softie this hotelier was under his hardnosed exterior, it might be the death of his empire. “Do you need any money…for anything?”
Riley smiled and shook her head. “I have everything I need.” He’d never be comfortable with her insistence that she make her own way, but she had to credit him for never pushing too hard.
She wasn’t privy to what had gone on behind the scenes when her father had adopted her thirteen years ago, but her mother hadn’t even been in the ground before Riley had been swept off to Quinton Carter’s mansion, a tiny pink suitcase containing her favorite things in her hand. She’d been shown around her new home
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