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  Rand's chest was hard and solid behind her and desire bubbled in her veins. When he reached out to toy with her hair, she very nearly purred. She wanted more of this man, this lovely man with the smooth voice and the bedroom eyes and the hands that promised al sorts of decadence.

  She wanted more, period. So she didn't move away, only sighed when he slid an arm around her.

  "You're quite a dancer," Cil a murmured.

  "You inspire me."

  "It's the least I can do." Then lights came up abruptly, bleaching the club from dim intimacy to hard reality. Was it real y that late, she wondered in surprise, and straightened.

  "Cinderel a time, I guess," Rand said.

  "I'm not ready to cal it a night," Cil a objected. "It's too soon." Whether it was the wee hours of morning or not, she wasn't the least bit sleepy.

  Instead, breathless anticipation ran through her.

  "You could go get your cards and we could play poker," Rand suggested.

  "There's an idea. We can be like Vegas, al night, al right."

  "There you go."

  They walked out into the lobby of the resort, with its soaring ceilings and marble arches. Terraces ran around the edges of the atrium, the overhead lattices wound with vines to give the il usion that they were outdoors instead of in air-conditioned comfort. Rand stopped in front of a pil ow-strewn brocade couch. "Go get your cards. I can wait here."

  Chivalrous, perhaps, but she didn't want chivalry. She wanted much more. "How about if you just come on up, instead? That way we'l get some quiet and we've got the minibar if we get thirsty."

  "From a tire iron on the highway to an invitation to your room? I think I'm making points." His voice was light, as though he wanted her to know he wasn't making any assumptions. It made her want him even more.

  "You haven't lost money to me yet," she said with a grin and tugged at his sleeve. "Come on."

  * * *

  CILLA TOSSED DOWN a handful of dimes and nickels. "I'l see your quarter, raise you thirty cents and cal ." They sat on the couch in her room, cards on the upholstery between them. The French doors that led to the atrium balcony were open, bringing in the tranquil sound of fal ing water from the indoor fountains. A ceiling fan stirred the air, making the silk at her neckline flutter just a bit.

  For the hundredth time, Rand pul ed his thoughts back to the game and laid his cards down. "Eights and fives."

  Cil a set down three jacks. "You are mine, baby, al mine," she crowed, and her eyes held a hot look of triumph. "That's five hands in a row."

  "You never told me you were a cardsharp. Are you sure you weren't the one headed to Vegas?" If he was on a losing streak, it was because the way she'd curled those long legs underneath her, rucking up her dress just enough, played hel with his concentration. Of course, the remains of the vodka tonics on the coffee table might have a bit to do with it, as wel .

  And the fact that they were both wondering how and when and where they'd make the jump. Not if, though. Not if.

  "A card hustler? Me? I'm just trying to give you the authentic experience," she told him, scooping up the last of his smal change.

  "By cleaning me out?"

  "Exactly, sugar." She reached out to give his cheek a little pat. And in reflex, his hand came up to trap hers in place. Cil a froze, her eyes widening just a fraction. Surprise? Arousal? Rand curled his fingers around hers, moving them to his lips, watching her steadily. For a moment, they stared at each other, the question asked, the answer given, the knowledge of where they were going naked in their eyes.

  When he released her hand, she stayed absolutely stil , then she went back to shuffling the cards.

  Rand looked at her in puzzlement. "What are you doing?"

  "Getting ready to deal." She split the deck in two and snapped the cards together. "You're not afraid of another hand, are you?" Her eyes were bright with excitement.

  "I'm out of change. You've broken me."

  "Good thing you didn't make it to Vegas."

  "Consider yourself lucky that I've been on a down streak. I'm usual y a winner."

  "Big talk," she sniffed, snapping the cards together again. "Why don't you prove it?"

  "I told you, no more money."

  "We could keep a tal y on paper."

  "That's not poker."

  A smile lurked in her eyes. "You could put it on your credit card."

  "I'm sure you'd love that."

  Cil a spread her hands, and shrugged. "Wel , the house doesn't play for free. Of course, we do have one other option."

  "Yes?"

  "You want stakes that mean something, I think we can arrange it." She did smile then, a slow bloom of promise.

  Something deep inside him began to thud in response. "Oh yeah? What's that?"

  Her eyes held a flare of recklessness. "Your clothes."

  * * *

  CILLA SHUFFLED the cards, excitement making her hands tremble just a bit. Rand sat shirtless, his skin gleaming gold in the light. Even though she'd seen him that afternoon in just swim trunks, he somehow seemed more naked now, his skin al the more bare for the contrast with his wheat-colored linen slacks. They'd gone past the easy pickings. Her Manolos had been off before they'd ever started, and now Rand's Top-Siders lay nearby. Watches, jewelry, it was al on the coffee table. She'd done wel the first few hands, but more recently Rand had been winning steadily.

  She was beginning to run out of clothing.

  Pushing the deck together, Cil a set it out for Rand to cut. When she reached out to pick up the stack, he captured her hand.

  And heat zoomed up her arm.

  "What are you doing?" she asked faintly.

  "Just checking to see if you had any cards up your sleeve."

  Her heart began to beat again. "It's a sleeveless shift."

  "Can't be too careful." He ran his fingertips up the fragile skin on the inside of her forearm. Arousal whispered through her.

  "Five-card draw," Cil a said, her voice a little shaky, and dealt.

  Rand just watched her. He fanned his cards out and gave a smal smile. It could mean he had something, it could mean he was bluffing, Cil a wasn't sure. If he had tel s, she'd yet to figure them out.

  Then she looked at her own hand and very nearly sighed. Three queens, a nine, and a four. She'd hold on to her ladies and take her chances with the rest, Cil a thought, tossing the other two cards down. "Two for the dealer," she said aloud. "And you, sir?"

  "I'l take three."

  Cil a raised an eyebrow. "Three cards for the desperate man in the corner," she said, and tossed them to him, giving herself two new cards before picking up her hand. Jubilantly, she saw that she'd drawn a pair of aces. Ful house. She kept her face wooden and looked at Rand.

  "I'l cal ," he told her.

  Cil a laid down her hand. "Ful house, read it and weep."

  "Not quite." He put his own cards down, revealing a hand ful of tens. "Four of a kind." His smile was impudent. "Looks like I win."

  She cursed.

  "Pretty salty language for a lady."

  "That ful house would have won me the last three hands."

  "Timing is everything." Rand settled more comfortably on the couch, putting his hands behind his head. "Guess you should have worn a two-piece outfit."

  Cil a rose. "I wore exactly the right outfit," she countered, sliding her fingers up her thighs. She heard his intake of breath as she reached the hem of her dress. Instead of pul ing it up, though, she slid her hands up underneath and around to the back. The whole time she was hooking her fingers in the sides of her thong, she watched Rand. The naked hunger in his eyes made her weak. Slowly, she drew the thong down her thighs, bent over to draw it below her knees, then sat to pul it off entirely.

  When she looked at him again, his chest was moving as though he'd just run up stairs. Holding the thong hooked around one finger, Cil a stretched out her arm and let the garment fal to the floor. "I believe it's your deal."

  The first time Rand tried t
o deal, the cards slipped in his hands. He raked his hair back off his forehead and tried again.

  Anticipation vaulted through her. Depending on what Rand wore beneath his linen slacks, one of them was going to be naked, more or less, when the hand was done. Certainly she would be if she lost, because she'd skipped the bra when she'd gotten dressed, thinking smugly how nice it was to be smal enough that a bra was an option, not a requirement. Now, she could feel the brush of silk against her nipples.

  The moment of truth, she told herself, picking up her hand to fan it out. Then she looked at the cards and swal owed. It wasn't fair, not even remotely.

  The previous game she'd wound up with a strong, if ultimately useless, hand. This time around?

  This time, she didn't have a thing. Nothing. Nada. Not even a pair of measly twos.

  Rand stared at his cards, face inscrutable, then he looked up at her.

  "Discards?"

  Cil a worked at breathing evenly. Maybe she could bluff. She didn't mind being naked, but she didn't want to be the first. "I'l take three," she said as casual y as she could manage and hoped like hel Lady Luck would round out her hand.

  Rand picked up the deck. "Nothing up my sleeves," he observed, holding open imaginary cuffs. "The lady takes a nervous three, and three for the dealer." He tossed out cards for them both as he spoke, then set the deck aside and gathered his hand.

  Cil a fanned out the cards she held, then looked at them on a breath of hope.

  She stil had diddly. Fold, she telegraphed to him. Fold, fold, fold.

  "Wel , I don't see any point in betting here. Cal ," Rand said casual y, glancing at her. Cil a felt the flush spread over her face and laid her hand down.

  "Looks like I lose," she said with a calm she didn't feel.

  "Or we both win, depending on how you look at it."

  She rose and shook back her hair, trying to ignore the skittering in her stomach. She'd been naked with plenty of guys in her lifetime. It had never been a big deal. She knew she looked sexy, she knew they'd liked what they saw. Taking off her clothes had never bothered her before. Why now?

  Because it was different to get naked with someone than it was to get naked in front of them.

  Cil a turned her back to him. "Can you help me with the zipper?"

  Even if she'd been unable to hear him, she'd have known he'd stepped close to her by the heat that bridged the gap between them. But she could hear the little shudder in his breath as he leaned in to her, the whisper of silk as he laid his hands on her hips. His breath tickled the fine hairs on her skin. Then she felt the brush of his lips on the nape of her neck and she gave a little helpless sound.

  Warm, soft, the touch of his lips made her shiver, made her stiffen.

  Made her want.

  Desire began to drum through her. She needed to taste him, she needed the feel of his mouth on hers. Weak with anticipation, Cil a let her head drop back. And oh, God, al the waiting was worth it. Pleasure bloomed as he pressed his mouth to hers. For an instant it was as though every nerve in her body was concentrated in her lips, the sensations overwhelming everything else.

  Or not quite everything else, because she could feel his hands moving up her sides, tracing the dip in her waist, the line of her ribs. The featherlight strokes gave promise of what was to come when he was touching her, instead. He broke the kiss.

  And she waited.

  When his hands rose to her zipper, he drew it down slowly, touching only the fabric, not her. Cil a shuddered as the cool air touched the narrow stripe of exposed flesh. She knew when he'd dropped it low enough to realize that she had no bra on; she heard his helpless exhalation.

  And with a sound of impatience she turned to him.

  3

  HIS HANDS SLID the dress off her shoulders. Cil a gave an absent shrug, releasing the fabric to pool around her feet even as she reached out for his waistband. After a day of temptation, a night of promise, here in the wee, wee hours it was final y happening. She unfastened his trousers and let them drop away.

  When she stepped forward to press her body against his, the heat and hard muscle and smooth skin nearly made her swoon. Pleasure saturated her, the feel of his hands running down her back, molding her to him, the insistent pressure of his hard cock against her bel y. She wanted him on her and in her, she wanted him—

  Cil a broke their kiss and pressed her head to his chest with a groan.

  "What?"

  "Do you happen to have any condoms with you?" she asked, a little desperately.

  His hands froze. "Shit."

  "Exactly."

  After a moment, he began exploring her again. "It's not the end of the earth, you know," he murmured, running a line of kisses over her shoulder as he slid one hand up to her breast. "There are other things we can do. We have the technology."

  Cil a laughed. "I suppose you're right."

  "Not that I'm not flattered that you think so highly of my hard-on."

  Cil a looked down to see it bobbing and jerking. "Looks like it thinks highly of me, too."

  * * *

  RAND HAD SPENT the better part of the card game trying to ignore the tight coil of tension in his bel y, trying to ignore the brush of skin and fabric as his cock lengthened under his clothes. Now, the pressure of her fingers, the motion of the thin skin over the hard column of flesh had his breath hissing in. It was too soon. He wanted to savor the feel of her taut, sleek body, listen to her pleasure, and then, only then, find his own release. He reached down and stil ed her hand, then pul ed her to him. She tasted just as she sounded, tangy and sweet, with a complexity that made him linger over her mouth even as he sought his own pleasure by finding her breast. The slight curve of it against his palm gave him a pulse of arousal.

  He squeezed the hard nipple until she moaned.

  And the sound only made him harder. Rand reached for the lamp.

  She caught at his hand. "What are you doing?"

  "I figured you'd want the lights off."

  "Why?"

  "The women I've been with like it dark."

  Cil a smiled wickedly. "I'd say you've been hanging around with the wrong crowd," she said, drawing him to the bed.

  "Doors open?" This time, surprise crept into his voice.

  Cil a laughed and fel back against the mattress. "If they're up at 3:00 a.m. and have sharp enough eyes to see al the way up here, more power to them."

  In fact, she thought, it was a bit of a turn-on to think about someone watching them together, watching him kneel by the bedside and part her knees so that he could lick his way up her thighs. How was it that she registered the warm, tempting touch inches away from where it was actual y happening, inches away in that hidden cleft where she was already slick with wanting?

  The first contact was just a tease, a quick brush of soft heat that made her jolt and left her craving more. The second lasted longer, sliding through her sensitive folds to find her for an instant. By then, though, his hands were on her breasts, rubbing the nipples to send quicksilver bolts of wanting through her. She pressed her body against him, needing his touch, needing more, needing it al .

  And suddenly his mouth was on her, tearing a shocked cry from her throat.

  Cil a's fingers clutched at the coverlet, then Rand's shoulders as her hips moved against him. He wouldn't be rushed, though. He took her close but backed away, leaving her wanting before taking her up again, driving her mindless. Spiraling tension gripped her, making her a slave to the wet heat of his tongue until he gave her that crucial extra second and the good, hard orgasm broke through her.

  She didn't know how long it lasted, the helpless quaking, the incoherent cries, the washes of pleasure that came at her again and again. She couldn't say how long it took her to recover enough to talk. Final y, she lay stil , aftershocks stil jolting her body at intervals.

  Rand rose to lay on the bed beside her, propping his head up on his hand.

  "You know, I kind of like this strip poker," he said, running the
flat of his hand over her bel y.

  "Give me a minute." Cil a's voice was ragged. "You'l like it even more once I can move."

  "I've got time."

  The sound of the fountains in the atrium drifted in through the open French doors. Time was irrelevant. Eventual y, Cil a rose to press him flat on his back.

  Rand's cock was stil hard. He could feel the throb of the blood rushing through it. Anticipation, he thought. It was almost as good as the reality of sex, the expectation bubbling in his blood, the nerve endings sensitized so that even the drift of air stirred by the ceiling fan had his erection twitching against his bel y. And then he felt the warmth of her breath, the nuzzle of her lips. A sigh escaped him.

  She didn't tease, though, seeming to understand how close he already was. Instead, the electric heat of her tongue stroked up the underside of his cock and pure lust slammed through him. When she slid him into the warm wetness of her mouth, he groaned. He fought desperately to stay in the moment, to not let the rhythmic strokes take him past the point of inevitability.

  He wanted to prolong it, and when he went, he wanted to take her with him.

  "Why don't you swing around here so that we can both enjoy ourselves," he managed to say, grinding his teeth as she stopped her ministrations.

  "You mean…"

  He reached down to help her move into place, running his hands along her long, lovely thighs as she slid his cock back into her mouth.

  How much sensation could one person absorb, Cil a wondered as she felt Rand's tongue trace maddening patterns over her clit even as she savored his erection. The next best thing to having it inside her was the immediacy of having it against her lips, of hearing his groan when she changed her motion, added her hand. But even as she brought him closer to coming, he was doing the same for her, each slippery stroke making the heat and tension rise within her, sometimes making her stop just to moan out her pleasure. In between, she savored him, drawing him closer and closer to that point at which the world ceased to be about anything but sensation.

  And then it wasn't anything but sensation, her own surging pleasure and the shuddering soon after in his body as he released and let himself fol ow.