Page 22 of Playing Dirty (Millionaire Cowboys of Lucky Ranch #2)

Chapter Twenty-Two

High Stakes

Rhett

T he elevator doors slid shut, sealing us from the casino noise below.

It was just me, Callie, and the quiet hum of the lift as it carried us toward the suite.

She was pressed against me, her soft curves fitting like they were meant to be there, her hands resting at the edge of my jacket.

The reflection in the polished brass walls showed her looking up at me with that mix of curiosity and mischief that could wreck a man’s concentration.

“So,” she said, her lips quirking, “you’re really offering me a job as Mrs. Callahan before you’ve even seen the paint job on your baby?”

I slid a hand to her lower back, keeping her close. “You mean my truck?” I dipped my head so my mouth brushed the shell of her ear. “If you messed it up, you’ll just have to find a way to fix it.”

She tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “What if it’s beyond repair?”

“Then I guess you’re stuck working for me forever.” My thumb traced slow circles at her waist. “Pretty sure I could live with that.”

She laughed under her breath, but I felt it more than I heard it—vibrating through the few inches between us. Her perfume clung to the air, warm and distracting.

“You know,” she murmured, “most bosses don’t start their job offers off with some kind of vailed marriage proposal.”

I grinned. “Most bosses aren’t me.”

The lift dinged for our floor, but neither of us moved right away. Her fingers curled into the front of my shirt, and for a second, I thought about hitting the stop button just to keep her here a little longer.

By the time we stepped out, the playful pull between us was wound tight, and I already knew tonight was going to be a long game I had no intention of losing.

We slipped into the private elevator at the far end of the hall, the one that went straight to the second floor of Callie and Tessa’s suite.

The main floor was all noise—Colt, Tessa, and Dalia were wrangling the twins into pajamas—and I wasn’t about to walk in and ruin bedtime just so I could get my hands on Callie.

I hit the elevator button for level 2, and it opened directly into the hallway outside our room.

I led her in, shutting the door behind us.

Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the Strip in all its neon glory, the lights stretching on like the city had no idea what “sleep” meant. But I barely looked at it.

She was here. That was the view I cared about.

I pulled her into me, just holding her there for a long second, breathing her in. The chaos of the past few days—the hunt for Matt, the confrontation, the miles between us—slid off my shoulders like it was never there.

When I finally let her go, I crossed the room to the desk and pulled open the top drawer without even thinking. Of course, there’d be a deck of cards inside, and I plucked it out, holding it up between two fingers like I’d just drawn an ace.

“Vegas,” I said, grinning. “You can’t walk five feet without finding a deck of cards.”

Her smile curved knowingly. “Planning to teach me a few tricks?”

“Oh, sweetheart…” I set the cards on the table between us. “I’m planning to teach you everything .”

I pulled a bottle of champagne from the chiller and poured two glasses. “Orientation starts now,” I told her, sliding one her way. “First lesson—Strip poker. House rules: The loser gives up something they are wearing, and we start with shoes.”

I dealt the first hand. She bit her lip, thinking hard, but my pair beat her high card. With a mock groan, she slipped off her heels and set them aside.

“Rematch,” she said.

“Confident.”

“Motivated.”

The second hand went the same way—two pair for me, one for her. “Earrings,” I said. She rolled her eyes and took them off.

By the third hand, she was leaning in, eyes narrowed, completely focused. I kept winning by a hair, and the pile of forfeits grew: shoes, earrings, a cardigan. She lost with dignity, but the competitive spark in her eyes made my blood heat.

“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.

“Watching you learn? Yeah.”

Finally, she won. “Shirt,” she said, chin tipped in challenge.

Laughing, I stood and unbuttoned it slowly. Her breath caught. Her grin turned wicked.

She shuffled for the next hand, shoulders brushing mine. “Tell me when to draw,” she said.

“Now.”

Callie lost again but she didn’t care. We were circling each other, every hand pulling us closer.

“Next lesson?” she asked.

“Patience,” I said, meeting her gaze. “And knowing when to go all in.”

Her smile was gentle and confident. The city lights shimmered in the background, yet she was the only thing I noticed. Callie was determined and right where I wanted her: sitting across the table, absorbing my game.

I turned on the speaker, letting a slow, bluesy guitar line fill the room, and topped off our glasses. Callie was down to nothing but her bra and panties, cheeks flushed from champagne and competition. I, on the other hand, was still in my pants, but not for long.

She narrowed her eyes at me over her cards. “This is rigged.”

“Guess you’ll have to prove it,” I said, deliberately folding a losing hand and pushing my stack her way.

Her jaw dropped. “I won?”

“Fair and square,” I said, standing. She crossed her arms.

I unzipped my jeans and stepped out, leaving my boxer briefs on. Her laugh came out low and warm, curling right through me.

“You’re impossible,” she said.

“And you’re falling behind,” I teased, dealing again.

The next round went quickly as she lost again. Rather than complaining, she stood up, holding her cards close to her chest, and approached me. Silently, she nudged me back into the chair, slipped out of her panties, and straddled my lap.

Callie reached down with one hand, slipping me free from my boxers, and gently guided me into her. Her warmth enveloped me, her breath catching as she welcomed me.

“You still in?” I asked, my voice lower now, hoarse with desire.

“Deal,” she murmured, leaning close enough that her hair brushed my cheek.

Even as her hips began a slow, deliberate roll, she kept those cards tight to her chest. I could barely focus on mine, not with her moving like that—riding me, teasing me, daring me to break first. I could feel every inch of her, every slow grind as she took me deep, then pulled away, only to do it again.

I set my cards down, my breath ragged. “You’re not playing fair.”

“I thought you wanted to play dirty,” she said, smiling against my jaw, her voice a sultry whisper. She picked up the pace, her body moving in rhythm with the bluesy guitar line, her breath hot on my neck. I could feel her tightening around me, her body trembling as she neared the edge.

I gathered her up and rose from the chair in one easy motion. Her legs locked around my waist, the warmth of her body pressed tight against mine as I carried her toward the bed.

The city glittered through the windows behind her, but she had my full attention. I lay her down slowly, letting my hands skim from her shoulders to her hips, memorizing the soft give of her skin, the little hitch in her breath when my fingers traced the curve of her waist.

"You're beautiful," I said, and it wasn't just a line—it was a fact.

Her eyes softened. "You're not so bad yourself, Rhett."

I grinned, leaning down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, letting our mouths linger. No rush. No stakes. Just us. Her hands slid over my chest, her fingertips warm and sure as if she'd known me like this forever.

She arched beneath me, her body a perfect curve against the sheets. I traced the delicate line of her collarbone with my tongue, tasting salt and sweetness, feeling her pulse quicken beneath my lips. Her fingers tangled in my hair, tugging just enough to make my breath catch.

"I want to feel you inside me again," she whispered, spreading open her folds.

I obliged, settling between her thighs. The heat of her against me was intoxicating, better than any high I'd ever chased. I kissed my way down her body, lingering at the soft swell of her breasts, drawing one taut peak into my mouth until she gasped my name.

Her skin flushed pink beneath my touch, a beautiful contrast to the white sheets. I moved lower, trailing kisses across her stomach, feeling the muscles tense and relax under my lips. When I reached the apex of her thighs, I looked up to find her watching me, lips parted, eyes heavy with want.

I took my time, learning her all over again, every sigh and little sound, every way her body moved beneath mine. She laughed once when I kissed that spot just under her jaw, then whispered my name like it was something she'd been holding onto for years.

Now, it wasn't about winning or chasing—it was about being there, fully, with her.

The slick heat of her body welcomed me home, her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me deeper.

I watched her face as I moved within her, memorizing every expression, the way her lips parted on a gasp when I hit just the right spot.

"I love you," she breathed against my ear, her body tightening around mine as she trembled on the edge.

The words went straight through me, settling somewhere deep and permanent. I'd said those words before, but never like this—never when they felt so damn right. I drove deeper, feeling her come apart beneath me, her release triggering my own.

"I love you too, Callie," I told her, like it had been sitting there waiting for me to finally let it out.

We stayed wrapped up in each other until the night blurred into early morning, the Strip’s lights still blazing outside our window. And somewhere between the last kiss and drifting off with her tangled in my arms, I knew I wasn’t ever letting her go.