Chapter Seven:

Okay, I admit it. I was… less than honest. But to be fair—did this man deserve my absolute honesty, all things considered? The way he'd been baiting me… No. No, he did not.

I shrugged. "I… have played…"

He grinned. "Come on, I'll show you… It's easy."

I shook my head. "No… I don't wanna lose a bunch of money."

He raised an eyebrow. "…We don't have to bet on it. I just thought it'd be… fun."

I rolled my eyes. "Where's the fun if you're not betting?" I teased.

He grinned and stood up, taking my hand and dragging me to my feet. "Trust me… if I take too much money from you, I promise I'll let you pay off your debt in other ways." He winked and guided me down the stairs slowly, because we were each carrying a drink in our free hands… he did not let go of my hand all the way down, through the throng of dancers, and over to the pool tables. It was warm… the fingers and pads on the palm just slightly calloused, the rest very soft. It was bigger than mine, and made my hand feel safe.

…Which, you know, is crazy. What, exactly, was my hand so afraid of, that it needed to feel safe? Ridiculous. …Still though, I didn't pull away. It felt nice.

We had to wait for a table, though luckily we were in a rather large establishment and after fifteen minutes of watching two guys try to outplay each other while their girlfriends watched impatiently, they were dragged away and we moved to the table. Vegas asked me to save the table—he was going to get change from the bartender so we could play. I had wanted to spent some times looking at cues…

Pool was about physics… and if there was anything I knew well, it was physics. So a good pool stick, a little provocation and the helpless female act and I'd probably walk away a couple hundred dollars richer. Which, you know, could go towards our honeymoon… keep Jace from working so much.

I slid up to sit on the edge of the table, thinking that if I weren't here right now… if Jace had stayed home… we could have taken wine to bed early. I could put on the nightie he liked, play some music… I let my eyes flicker closed, imagining my lover and friend kissing and caressing me. I was only here because I had a small crush on a man and I had felt lonely… neglected. Maybe I just should have stayed home and taken care of my frustrations myself. There'd be less guilt, at least.

I opened my eyes—Vegas was stuck behind several people waiting for drinks from the very busy bartender. I closed them again, imagining the texture of his chest and arms, muscled from all the time he spent with his cars, and the sound of his breath coming fast against my cheeks as he kissed me. The smoothness of his lips and the scrape of his calloused hands and the press of him between my thighs. The way he would hold out… make me wait to feel him until I felt like I couldn't take it anymore… the delicious pressure of the first moment he pushed inside and the feel of his hands gripping my hips. I felt my heart rate speeding up, imagining my toes curling up in pleasure… the way I would come first and then open my eyes in time to see him finish…

I played it out, my toes curling in my boots at the thought, feeling each movement I made in my mind—my arching back, my nails gripping tight, my calves tightening around his hips or his legs… and then the delicious pleasure of opening my eyes in afterglow, sleepy and sated, to see—

My eyes snapped open in alarm. It hadn't just been Jace's face in my mind. It had been Dr. Grissom's and… and I should not be here. I needed to leave… I needed to—

"Hey. Sorry that took so long." He bent and put the coins in, taking out the balls as they came free and piling them on the table. "…You should probably get down."

I looked at him in surprise, only half-listening. "I… What? Why?"

He stood up fully, having retrieved all the balls, and moved in front of me, placing his hands on on the table on either side of my hips and leaning in closer to me. "…Because you're inspiring all kinds of pool-table-related fantasies, and if you don't get down… I might not be responsible for my actions."

I blushed, feeling heat low in my abdomen. Good lord, that was hot. …Jace never talked like that to me.

I shook my head—Jace loved me—and slid down without thought, seeking only to end this conversation… and instead putting myself in direct proximity. Goose bumps shot through my body at the nearness and I inhaled sharply. He smirked and leaned just a little closer, watching me shiver at the feel of his breath on my neck, and then backed off, moving to set up the balls in the triangle.

It took me a second, but I recovered—shaking my head and moving away from him on the pretense of selecting a stick while I got my bearings. No matter how neglected or frustrated or lonely I felt, it was no excuse for cheating. No matter how… sexy… Dr. Grissom? …Vegas was… it didn't matter. There was no excuse. I picked a cue that looked fairly unbent and returned to the table, firmly telling myself that this was nothing—a crush that I was allowing myself to get caught up in because I was emotional. And why wouldn't I be emotional? Our wedding was in a week and I hardly saw him… I just needed to keep telling myself that—I wasn't being reasonable and I could not make any decision based on how I felt tonight.

He was at my side a moment later, his own stick in hand. "So… I'll go easy on you, the first round. Do you want to bet, or wait a game to get back into the swing of things?"

I stood up a little straighter, reminding myself that I was playing him—which meant I couldn't let his sly non-advances affect me. This was supposed to be happening the other way around. "If you're going easy on me, why wouldn't I want to bet? I've got nothing to lose… right?"

He grinned. "Then what's in it for me? …I think, with every turn, there should be consequences—you miss a shot, you answer a question."

"And if you miss?"

He threw me a grin. "I won't. …But, if I do, I'll answer anything you want me to."

I looked at him for a long moment—if I wanted to screw him over, I would have to pretend to not be very good, at first… which would mean answering a lot of questions. But he'd said he'd go easy on me, so it would probably be a wash… He knew better than to beat the woman he was trying to woo at a game she said she wasn't good at, right?

"Fine. …But only if you're actually going to go easy on me."

"Cross my heart." His eyes danced and I felt a swooping in my stomach. God, but he was just so damned sexy. This would be so much easier if he… wasn't. He put a five down on the table and I fished one out myself, laying it next to his.

"Do you want to break?" he offered, and I shook my head in what I hoped was a meek fashion. He stepped up, bent over, and made the shot—a striped ball flew into one of the corner pockets. He grinned and walked slowly around the table to set up another shot while I leaned on my cue, watching. He was fairly good—he hadn't picked the best shot on the table, but I figured that was because of his promise to be nice. He shot and made it, and at my scowl, promptly missed a shot intentionally.

I stepped up and he stepped close beside me. "You know which balls to hit… right?"

His voice was soft, teasing… half-whispering in a fashion that was utterly seductive. I raised an eyebrow. "On the table or off?" He smiled at my threat, though his eyes narrowed in discomfort, and I stepped away from him, and surveying the table. "You have to answer a question now, don't you?"

"Ask me anything."

"…Why are you so vehemently pursuing an almost-married woman?"

I glanced up at him and he shrugged. "I've never met anyone who affected me the way you have… there's something… big… between us. I can't just disregard that."

I leaned over, picking the most obvious shot and intentionally lining it up wrong. "Are you sure you don't just want what you know you can't have?" I pulled the cue back, but his hand fell over mine and all of a sudden he was around me, his chest pressed to my back and his hands covering mine, adjusting my angle.

His voice came in that same husky, whispery tone, right again my ear. "…That's more than one question." He released me, and I took a deep breath before shooting. The ball fell in neatly and he smiled. "See? You just need some help…"

I moved around the table, leaning over again, prepared for his presence this time and almost surprised when it didn't come. I glanced up at him suspiciously. "Not helping this time…?"

"If I do that, I'll never get you to answer any questions."

I shook my head, lined up my shot and missed. The smirk on his lips should have made me happy that he believed the act—instead, it just sent heat and chills down my arms, simultaneously. I held the cue and put my weight on one hip, my free hand resting at the top of my jeans. "Well?"

I expected him to pry into why I hadn't denied a problem in my sex life… I expected him to ask me what kind of underwear I was wearing or what position I liked best… I expected him to ask me about Jace in an attempt to compare himself.

"…What's your… happiest childhood memory?"

I blinked. I had not been expecting that.