Page 8 of Silver Fox's Christmas Scandal

"Again?" he murmured, dealing the next hand, and I nodded, not willing to back down.

I lost again. And again. My luck at cards apparently rivaled my luck with men—absolutely terrible.

My heels came off next, then my earrings, my watch, my hair tie.

Each lost hand brought a new wave of heat to my cheeks, but also a growing sense of power. Lucian's eyes had grown darker with each discarded item, his breathing slightly heavier as more of my skin was revealed.

When my dress joined the growing pile on the floor, leaving me in my white silk camisole and black stockings, he paused in his dealing.

"Having second thoughts?" I asked, surprised by the husky quality of my own voice.

My core was the relative temperature of the sun but as wet as the Amazon rainforest, and this man was slowing down.

I swear I wasn't throwing rounds on purpose. I wanted to see him strip down as much as anything.

"Never." But his hands weren't quite steady as he dealt the cards. "You?"

"Deal the cards, Cross."

The use of his surname seemed to amuse him. He won that hand too, and I felt my pulse spike as I realized what came next.

My camisole. The white silk was expensive, a splurge I'd justified because it made me feel confident and professional. Now it felt like armor I was reluctant to shed.

But I'd never been a coward.

The straps slipped free of my shoulders one by one, silk peeling off me to reveal the black lace bra I'd chosen that morning without any thought that someone might see it.

Lucian's intake of breath was audible as the material rose over my head and fluttered to join its companions on the floor.

"Your turn to lose," I said, though my voice shook slightly now. I had no idea what had gotten into me, but I blamed it on the alcohol, and even with that in my head, I still didn't restrain myself.

He was just as invested as I was and not backing down. And he hadn't lost once.

"We'll see."

But my luck remained abysmal. The stockings went next, rolled down my legs while Lucian watched every movement.

His eyes never turned away, the only sign that my striptease was affecting him—other than the slight bulge of his slacks, which was encouraging. It wasn't all in my head.

Now I sat across from him in nothing but my black lace bra and matching panties, goosebumps rising on my exposed skin despite the warmth from the fireplace.

Lucian remained fully clothed except for that tantalizingly open shirt, his luck at cards apparently as formidable as his business acumen.

"We can stop here," he said, though his eyes burned as they roamed over my exposed skin. "Call it a draw."

The suggestion sparked something rebellious in me. I'd spent four years being the good girl, the professional assistant who never stepped out of line.

But tonight felt different.

Tonight felt like a chance to be someone else entirely.

"I'm not a quitter," I said, lifting my chin in defiance. "Deal the cards." The lusty tone in my voice had him sitting straighter, eyes narrowing on me.

"I mean it, Tessa," he growled. "We don't have to."

But I wasn't giving up. The alcohol had fueled my lustful craving and I wanted to be sated.

I reached across the table and took the cards from his hands and dealt them myself, and this time, fortune finally smiled on me.