she helped set it to rights.
Then she lost.
“Huh,” she said in consternation, and slowly
tucked an escaping strand of hair behind her ear. She reached for
her drink, attempting to stall.
Before her fingers could close around it,
Keilor snatched it up. With a wicked glint in his eye, he toasted
her. “I’d hate for your senses to be dulled for this, Dragonfly.”
With a quick toss he finished her drink and then scooted back his
chair, waiting.
She looked away from the electric promise in
his eyes and told herself sternly to move. Just a little kiss, she
reminded herself, rising. It wasn’t helping. Reluctance slowed her
every movement and made the slide onto Keilor’s lap torturous for
both of them. When she would have stopped halfway, he grasped her
hips and pulled her flush, sending a shockwave of thrill through
them both.
Jasmine grit her teeth and gripped his
shoulders, stiff with willful desire. He grazed his cheek against
hers once in acknowledgment and then slowly slid his mouth to her
own. Invisible sparks flew as their lips touched softly. Her mouth
parted a little of its own accord, and Keilor sipped, drawing
delicately on the soft, damp interior, dragging his lower lip
across hers. Her heart thumped like a piston as she slid her
fingers into his dark hair, instinctively finding the clasp and
freeing the silken strands.
So caught up was she that she failed to
remember their audience until Jayems said with amusement, “Do you
think we should leave him to her mercy or have pity and toss water
on them?”
With a groan of heartfelt reluctance, Keilor
ended the kiss and set her back. Aching, Jasmine scooted off his
lap and felt her way back into her chair, her eyes still too
dilated to focus properly. As her left hand connected with the back
of her chair, she heard a clink. Dropping down heavily, she opened
her hand to investigate and flushed. It was Keilor’s hair clip.
“Keep it.” He mimed a kiss. “A memento.”
The tide had definitely turned in favor of
the men, and Jayems and Keilor kept stealing the ladies’ drinks in
the name of sharp senses, though the liquor had little noticeable
effect on them.
“You must be cheating,” Jasmine muttered,
eyeing the pile of shells in front of their opponents with
suspicion. They were on their last hand, and her cards were good.
Almost unbeatable. As time went on she became less willing to take
the chance of losing again. As it was she started trembling just
thinking about the consequences of defeat.
Still...It was a lot of money. Maybe enough
to get them home again. Could she afford to lose this chance when
the odds were so completely in their favor?
Keilor raised the bet and Jayems folded.
Wiley was already out, and Jasmine couldn’t cover the bet. Taking
the last shot straight from the bottle for courage, she cleared her
throat and asked huskily, “Would you be willing to take a
promissory note on a game of strip poker for my ante?”
Wiley drew in a shocked breath of protest,
but choked on her own saliva. While Jayems thumped her on the back,
Keilor regarded her intently. “Strip poker?”
Jasmine looked down and tapped her finger on
the table, her nerves jangling a warning. And whether she liked it
or not, a dangerous thrill of anticipation. Would it be so bad to
lose?
Mentally chastising herself for daring to
think such a stupid thing, she said, “I’ll tell you after the cards
are on the table.” If things went as planned, it wouldn’t matter
anyway, because she wouldn’t be in a position to pay up.
He looked skeptical, but one look at Wiley
frantically waving, “no, no!” and shaking her head at Jasmine and
his expression turned speculative. With a graceful gesture, he
tipped his cards onto the table.
“Heh, heh!” Jasmine gloated as she tossed her
own hand down and raked in the pot. She threw back her head and
hooted. “Whoo, hoo!” Jumping up, she did a little war dance, then
grabbed Wiley in a headlock and rubbed her head
Then she lost.
“Huh,” she said in consternation, and slowly
tucked an escaping strand of hair behind her ear. She reached for
her drink, attempting to stall.
Before her fingers could close around it,
Keilor snatched it up. With a wicked glint in his eye, he toasted
her. “I’d hate for your senses to be dulled for this, Dragonfly.”
With a quick toss he finished her drink and then scooted back his
chair, waiting.
She looked away from the electric promise in
his eyes and told herself sternly to move. Just a little kiss, she
reminded herself, rising. It wasn’t helping. Reluctance slowed her
every movement and made the slide onto Keilor’s lap torturous for
both of them. When she would have stopped halfway, he grasped her
hips and pulled her flush, sending a shockwave of thrill through
them both.
Jasmine grit her teeth and gripped his
shoulders, stiff with willful desire. He grazed his cheek against
hers once in acknowledgment and then slowly slid his mouth to her
own. Invisible sparks flew as their lips touched softly. Her mouth
parted a little of its own accord, and Keilor sipped, drawing
delicately on the soft, damp interior, dragging his lower lip
across hers. Her heart thumped like a piston as she slid her
fingers into his dark hair, instinctively finding the clasp and
freeing the silken strands.
So caught up was she that she failed to
remember their audience until Jayems said with amusement, “Do you
think we should leave him to her mercy or have pity and toss water
on them?”
With a groan of heartfelt reluctance, Keilor
ended the kiss and set her back. Aching, Jasmine scooted off his
lap and felt her way back into her chair, her eyes still too
dilated to focus properly. As her left hand connected with the back
of her chair, she heard a clink. Dropping down heavily, she opened
her hand to investigate and flushed. It was Keilor’s hair clip.
“Keep it.” He mimed a kiss. “A memento.”
The tide had definitely turned in favor of
the men, and Jayems and Keilor kept stealing the ladies’ drinks in
the name of sharp senses, though the liquor had little noticeable
effect on them.
“You must be cheating,” Jasmine muttered,
eyeing the pile of shells in front of their opponents with
suspicion. They were on their last hand, and her cards were good.
Almost unbeatable. As time went on she became less willing to take
the chance of losing again. As it was she started trembling just
thinking about the consequences of defeat.
Still...It was a lot of money. Maybe enough
to get them home again. Could she afford to lose this chance when
the odds were so completely in their favor?
Keilor raised the bet and Jayems folded.
Wiley was already out, and Jasmine couldn’t cover the bet. Taking
the last shot straight from the bottle for courage, she cleared her
throat and asked huskily, “Would you be willing to take a
promissory note on a game of strip poker for my ante?”
Wiley drew in a shocked breath of protest,
but choked on her own saliva. While Jayems thumped her on the back,
Keilor regarded her intently. “Strip poker?”
Jasmine looked down and tapped her finger on
the table, her nerves jangling a warning. And whether she liked it
or not, a dangerous thrill of anticipation. Would it be so bad to
lose?
Mentally chastising herself for daring to
think such a stupid thing, she said, “I’ll tell you after the cards
are on the table.” If things went as planned, it wouldn’t matter
anyway, because she wouldn’t be in a position to pay up.
He looked skeptical, but one look at Wiley
frantically waving, “no, no!” and shaking her head at Jasmine and
his expression turned speculative. With a graceful gesture, he
tipped his cards onto the table.
“Heh, heh!” Jasmine gloated as she tossed her
own hand down and raked in the pot. She threw back her head and
hooted. “Whoo, hoo!” Jumping up, she did a little war dance, then
grabbed Wiley in a headlock and rubbed her head
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