I told myself I was being polite when I offered to walk her up to her hotel room.

That I’m not hoping for anything. But the way Raquel’s eyes cut to me over her shoulder — half dare, half danger — makes my restraint unravel one thread at a time.

I take off my jacket and toss it over the back of a chair. “It’s too damn hot for all that formality.”

She’s getting hot in that dress. So hot, she had to untie that big fancy bow at the neck. I wonder if she’s planning on getting changed into something more comfortable.

Now that I’ve downed a Jack Daniel’s, I wouldn’t mind downing a few more because of the way she’s looking at me, dark eyes, full mouth, lips stained in a rich red satin lipstick. She makes it impossible for me to look away. Those big, dark Bambi eyes, framed by thick lashes, are hard to look away from. I can see myself falling, deep, deep, deeper into them. Losing my mind and my morals. Her loose hair tumbles over her silky dress in waves, and she’s barefoot. Just seeing her painted toes, oddly intimate, ties me up in knots.

It’s a teasing glimpse into the woman who seems to keep her walls up around everyone, especially me. Not only is she sensual and beautiful, not only do I find myself immensely attracted to her, but she’s also a mystery. One I desperately want to unravel.

I want to kiss her, and taste her, and … do so many things to her, with her.  But she’s fighting this attraction between us. We could be fucking like wild animals, on that supersized bed of hers.

But she hates me, and while I love the thrill and chase when it comes to a beautiful woman, there’s a barrier that Raquel can’t get over.

Her goddamn moral compass.

“I should go.” Clearly, she’s not feeling what I’m feeling. She doesn’t like me. My family. The Knight name. Who knows which of these it is? She’s not seeing me as someone separate. She’s not feeling what I’m feeling. No point sticking around any longer.

“Let’s play a game.”

We both spoke at the same time, and now we’re staring at each other.

She wants to play a game. I can’t believe my ears. This woman wants to party. I knew it. I goddamn knew it.

I’m in.

She wants me, and she can’t let me go. “A game, huh?” I swipe a hand over my beard. “What are we talking here? Hangman, Scrabble?” I need to make sure we’re on the same page.

“You play poker?”

Hot damn. Her question brings a smile to my lips.

This is my kind of woman. I knew it from the moment she sidled up to me at the bar in Manhattan.

“You offering money or something better?” I ask, anticipation making the blood course through my veins. My pants suddenly feel tighter.

Her brow lifts, cool and lethal. “Clothes.”

She says it like a challenge, as if she’s daring me to break first. And damn me, I’ve never been more ready to lose.

“Clothes, princesa? You sure about that?” She’s wild, and I’m a lucky, lucky, lucky guy. “Strip poker?”

“You scared, Knight?” Her eyes widen. Her mouth parts, just a little. Enough to have me thinking about the things I’d like to do with her.

Not scared, princesa. Just fucking excited.

I grin, and she smiles, wide and full. I couldn’t drag my gaze away from her lips if I tried. I want those luscious red lips on mine. Wrapped around my cock, on my stomach, kissing me all over. It’s incredible to think that we haven’t even kissed.

Yet.

We’re done nothing but dance and bicker around one another. The slow burn, slow-building tension is heating up, and it’s slowly killing me. I’m usually more of an instant gratification kind of guy, but this battle of wills between Raquel and I is more intoxicating and dangerous than any foreplay. Which makes me wonder how explosive we would be in bed. Would we even survive it?

I hope I’ll get a chance to find out.

“We need a pack of cards.” I’m thinking how quickly this night has turned from a near disappointing disaster, to something filled with endless possibility.

“Luckily, I have one.” Raquel walks over to the desk near the window.

“You always carry cards with you? You always play these games when you’re traveling?” For a second it pinches, that I’m not the only recipient of such a night. Of such games. But I wave it away. We’re having fun. That’s all this is. Nothing too deep. Nothing meaningful.

“What if I do?” she throws back.

I’m starting to see her with new eyes, and I wonder if she’s the type of woman who has an insatiable appetite.

“There was already a pack of cards in here. Feel better?” she says. “You think I carry these around all the time, playing games with strangers in my hotel room?”

I open my mouth and close it.

Because she’s damn right. Now I feel like a prick for being so judgy.

“We get five cards each per round,” I say,  taking the cards out of the pack and shuffling them.

“Okay,” she says, eyeing the desk. “Let’s just play on the floor.” She sits down, cross-legged.

I sit down, or try to, but it’s not comfortable. Still, I’m not going to make excuses, not now that we’re playing strip poker.

“We get five cards each. No bluffing, no bets, just the highest hand wins. Standard rankings. Nothing fancy or convoluted. Just enough to get you in trouble.” I flip the cards in my hands like this is my full-time job and I’m an expert.

She raises a perfectly shaped brow, then licks her lower lip, making my cock twitch in my pants. “Sounds good to me.”

“Let’s iron out the rules.”

We eye one another like hungry predators. I wonder if she’s imagining me down to my boxers, because I have a visual of what I’m expecting to see before this night is over.

My hard-on is becoming painful unbearable and, when she’s not looking, I need to adjust myself in my pants.

“Loser removes an item of clothing,” I say, stating the obvious.

She looks at me carefully. “They can remove an item of clothing or answer a personal question.”

“Or answer a personal question,” I echo.

“Remind me again of the hierarchy, Knight?”

“Oh, princesa. I’d be happy to break it down for you.” I lick my lower lip, gazing at her like I’m going to win, for sure. “Top of the food chain? Royal flush. Ace, King, Queen, Jack, 10—all one suit. Untouchable. Like me.”

She scoffs, but her eyes glint with fire.

“Next? Straight flush — five in a row, same suit. Four of a kind? Four cards, same rank. No mercy.”

“Go on,” she says, flapping her cards, trying to cool herself.

“Full house? That’s three of a kind, two of another.”

Her fingers toy with the hem of her dress.

“Okay, I get it. I’ve played this before, Knight. I’m no poker virgin.”

“I don’t take you for one, either.”

“Want another drink?” she asks.

“I’ll have another Jack Daniels.”

She gets up and walks over to the wet bar again, and I watch her intently, admiring her as she stands with her back to me. I’m still incredulous that I’m here.

Playing strip poker.

Wait till I tell Dex.

She hands me the drink. For herself, she has a small bottle of water.

“You’re not drinking?”

“I have work to do.”

“What?”

“Work. I have a caseload. My sleazy, nasty, boss has cracked his whip.”

“Sleazy?”

She shrugs, sits back down on the floor again, takes a sip of water then puts the lid back on.

There’s more to this than she’s letting on. Something I don’t like the sound of.

“How old is he? Married?”

“Why so many questions?”

“Just answer them, princesa.”

“He’s not married, and as for the “sleazy.” I can deal with him.” She picks at something on her dress. “I have work to do, Knight. So if you want to play, I suggest we get on with it.”

“Okay.”

“And once we’ve finished playing, you’re leaving soon after I’ve gotten you down to your boxers.”

I wink at her. “Who says you’ll want me to leave once you see me in my boxers?”