“No, never.” She swiveled her h*ps in a vain attempt to guide his hand where she wanted it.
“You want me, don’t you?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
He leaned in close and flicked his tongue against her ear. “I want you.”
She swallowed hard. “Then what are you waiting for?”
It was a good question. The words were on the tip of his tongue: I love you, Riley, but they refused to budge from their spot.
How many men made it to thirty-two without falling in love? Charlie had, and now he hadn’t just fallen, he’d plunged face first.
“I can’t believe how much I want to be inside you again,” he murmured in her ear.
“Then do it,” she begged.
He shed his pants quickly and settled over her, weight on his elbows. Then he shifted, remembering an important detail. “I forgot to bring condoms,” he said. “Do you have any?”
“I’m on the pill,” she whispered. “And I’m okay. Healthy. Are you—?”
Charlie swallowed hard, nodding. “You’re sure?” The idea of being inside Riley like that appealed too damn much. Their gazes tangled as he slid into her—skin to skin for the first time.
She was so hot and wet and tight, and it felt so incredible to be in her, to be moving without any barrier between them. He slowed, trying to last longer than his building pleasure would allow.
“No,” she whispered, her nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Faster.”
He pushed himself up so he could look into her eyes as he rocked into her, so he could watch the pleasure on her face.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her head back, her eyes fluttering closed.
Her nails dug into her shoulder blades as the orgasm took her and she convulsed around him. His own pleasure climbed, and his c**k swelled more than he thought possible, spurred by direct contact with her hot, wet sex.
When he came inside her, it was she who cried out.
He allowed himself several long moments to recover. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, he breathed in the sweet, clean scent of her. She smelled like a cool spring day with clear skies and laundry on the line. She smelled like home.
He carefully slid out of her and rolled to his side. “I’ve never done that before,” he said softly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Thank you.”
She turned and smiled at him, her green eyes soft. “Which part? The quickie part or the no condom part?”
He chuckled. “My male pride insists I lie to you and tell you I’ve never blown my load so quickly, but I believe we have video evidence proving otherwise.”
She laughed, her fingers running lazy trails over his chest. “And you even wore a condom…then?”
A lock of her hair had fallen in her face, and Charlie brushed it behind her ear, reading her question in her eyes. “I wore a condom every time. Even with Angela.”
“Angela is…?”
“My son’s mother.” The word son still felt strange attached to him, more like playing pretend than talking about his real life.
She let out a long breath. “So he is yours.”
Charlie nodded. “He looks just like me and the numbers make sense.”
“How old is he?”
“Sixteen. About the age I was when he was conceived.” Charlie smiled, thinking of Tony. “He’s a good kid. A little sneaky, but only because he knows what he wants.”
She smiled, her green eyes soft. “What’s it like, having a child? You know, flesh of your flesh and all that?”
Charlie propped himself up on an elbow. He wanted a better view of her as they talked about this part of his life, as he shared this vulnerable piece of himself. “I don’t really know. I wasn’t given the opportunity to be his father. Angela must have been pregnant when I left town, but I didn’t know, and she never contacted me again until I was served with those papers.”
Riley sat up, her cheeks flushing. “How could she do that? You had a right to know.”
Charlie sighed. He pushed himself off the floor and offered her a hand. When they stood face to face, he pressed his lips to hers. Her indignation on his behalf warmed long-ago hardened places inside him.
“What was that for?” she asked when he pulled away.
He grinned. “Just for believing in me.” Then with a sigh, he explained, “Angela thought it was best for Tony if I wasn’t part of his life. Given the circumstances—that I was a high school dropout bent on living life on my own terms and no one else’s—maybe she was right.”
Riley shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Not for a minute. You’re a good man, and ready or not you were the child’s father. She stole sixteen years from you.”
“Is that what you think about those years your father wasn’t in your life?”
Riley flinched, then slipped away from him and walked around to sit on the couch. Charlie followed her, sitting beside her but saying nothing. “It’s not his fault. Not completely. My mom told him she didn’t need his money or his help.”
“How did you feel about that?” Charlie asked softly.
“I didn’t know any better until after she died. I guess then it occurred to me that he should have pushed the issue. He was my father, why didn’t he insist on visitation?”
Charlie reached for her hand and squeezed it in his.
“And it might have occurred to me that the transition after her death would have been easier if he hadn’t been a stranger to me. My whole like would have been different if I’d known him, been sure of his love before he was the only one I had.”
“Do you think you’d be dancing for a living now…if you hadn’t been bent on proving yourself to your father?”
She blinked at him. “It’s not easy to make a living as a dancer.”
He turned on the couch and drew her to him so she was leaning against his chest. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I think we all have a dream of…what we could have been,” she said softly. “Except maybe you—fancy professional poker player.” She tilted her chin up and grinned at him.
“Maybe we’re both too scared to go after what we really want.”
She turned in his arms and put her hand against his face, studying him. “What do you want, Charlie?”
“I want…” You. “…a way out of the poker life. Another career opportunity that would let me stay here, near Tony.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m a little worried there’s nothing else I’m any good at.” It was embarrassing to say it out loud, but he knew he could tell Riley the truth. Lacing his fingers through hers, Charlie watched her carefully. “Would you like to meet my son?”
She didn’t recoil or pull away. Instead her eyes lit with excitement, her pink lips curved up at the corners. “Really? You want me to meet him?”
“Yeah. I do. I don’t want to f**k this up.” He gave her a sheepish grin and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “Maybe you could come and slap me upside the head every time I act as a bad role model.”
She laughed. “Sure. What’s the plan?”
“He’s going to meet us at Grand Escape for a game of poker.”
Chapter Twenty
“So, is that kid going to join us tonight or not?” Ashton, one of Charlie’s poker buddies, asked the next night. Ashton deftly shuffled cards, not bothering to watch his hands. Showing off, as always.
Charlie, Riley, and Ashton sat in a private reserved poker room at Grand Escape waiting for Derrick or Tony or whatever the hell the kid wanted to call himself.
But Charlie’s son hadn’t showed.
Charlie looked at his watch. “Go ahead and start. We can always deal him in later.”
Riley cocked her head, grinning. “Maybe his mom didn’t like the idea of you teaching her son how to gamble?”
Charlie squeezed her hand—hell, was he actually nervous about this?—and shrugged. “It’s not like we’re playing for real money. Pretending gambling doesn’t exist doesn’t keep kids from doing it. I’d rather he understand the risks.”
Under the table, she squeezed his thigh. “I think it was sweet of you to set this up.”
Not that it would matter if Tony didn’t show. Charlie ignored the disappointment niggling at his gut. Maybe Tony was running late. Or maybe something had come up.
“You lovebirds ready to play?” Across the table, Ashton shuffled the cards and gave Riley a once-over. “Tell me you’re not really dating this loser,” he said, nodding to Charlie.
Riley reached back for Charlie’s hand. “I suppose you think I should be with someone else?”
“Sure,” Ashton said, “someone who knows a good hand from his own ass would be a good starting point.”
Charlie snorted. “Easy to talk shit when nothing’s on the line. Ry, if this were a real game, we’d walk out of here with all that cocky son-a-bitch’s money.”
“He’s just jealous because he hasn’t won a championship in months,” Ashton said, “and nobody wants to pony up to sponsor him anymore.”
Riley frowned and cast a glance at Charlie. “Why do you need sponsors?”
“They pay the high fees for the tournaments and pay us for wearing their name like a human billboard,” Ashton explained.
“It’s not so bad,” Charlie said. “It’s a good way to make a living doing this.” And it was the only way he knew how to make a living at all.
“Especially if you aren’t good enough to win,” Ashton said, razzing Charlie.
“If you didn’t blow your money on women and gambling, you wouldn’t have to win them all to make a living,” Charlie said, dishing it back.
Ashton dealt the cards and smiled at Riley. “So are you going to be Singleton’s next Nicole Abucee?”
Riley narrowed her gaze. Charlie tensed and flashed Ashton a warning glare.
Ashton ignored him. “His agent seems to think he needs another scandal to raise his appeal to the sponsors. Those pictures of you two in the paper were the best career bump this washed up talent has had in a year.”
Riley cut her gaze to Charlie again.
“My agent’s an idiot,” Charlie said. “Apparently the only thing they taught him in that fancy MBA program of his is ‘sex sells.’”
“He’s right,” Ashton said after they paid their blinds. “So, are you the Devil’s new scandal?”
“Why?” Riley asked, looking Ashton in the eye. “Are you jealous?”
Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s just that UltimatePokerPowerhouse.net finally got sick of dicking around with Singleton’s agent and gave the sponsorship to that new little shit—Little Jimmi?”
The air left Charlie’s lungs in a whoosh. He dropped his cards. “They did what?” Fuck. Why hadn’t Rick called?
The smile dropped from Ashton’s face. “Shit, man, they didn’t tell you? That’s low.” He gave a forced smile. “It’s okay. I’m sure our man here has some sort of backup sponsor.”
Charlie swallowed hard. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t, who wanted him?
“It doesn’t pay to play without a sponsor,” Ashton explained.
“Unless you win, right?” Riley said.
Ashton shrugged. “It’s not about skill anymore, not with the f**king internet amateurs changing the game so much. They play like they’re betting dimes, not thousands.” He shook his head. “All the strategy is gone.”
Charlie pushed back from the table. He needed some fresh air. The room was too damn hot. Too damn small.
“Charlie?” Riley put her hand on his arm. “You okay?”
Charlie forced himself to wink at her and smile. “Sounds like I need to call my agent. You’ll excuse me?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Sure.”
Charlie couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. By the time he’d reached the street, he’d fished his cell out of his pocket and pressed the memory for Rick. He hung up when he got the man’s voicemail.
Charlie paced down a block and back, his blood pressure rising. It wasn’t about the money. He wouldn’t be out on the street tomorrow if he never had another sponsor. He could sell his condo in LA and pull from his savings, but it wasn’t enough to retire on. He was thirty-two. If poker was done with him, what the hell was he supposed to do with the rest of his life?
His phone rang and he quickly took the call. “Rick, what the hell is going on?”
“Singleton, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, buddy.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Don’t be like that, Charlie. I called your suite and left you messages.”
Charlie hadn’t been there. He’d been with Riley. Nevertheless, it was a piss poor excuse when Rick knew his cell number. “So you lost the deal?” He resumed his pacing, anxious for his agent to get to the part where he explained that everything would be okay.
“Man, I hate that it had to go down like this, but we’re just not working out.”
Charlie froze in middle of the sidewalk. Someone slammed into his back and muttered a few choice words. “You’re firing me?”
“Maybe another agent could do better for you. I’m sorry it had to come out like this. Like I said, I called your room last night after I put the letter in the mail.”
“You want me, don’t you?”
She licked her lips. “Yes.”
He leaned in close and flicked his tongue against her ear. “I want you.”
She swallowed hard. “Then what are you waiting for?”
It was a good question. The words were on the tip of his tongue: I love you, Riley, but they refused to budge from their spot.
How many men made it to thirty-two without falling in love? Charlie had, and now he hadn’t just fallen, he’d plunged face first.
“I can’t believe how much I want to be inside you again,” he murmured in her ear.
“Then do it,” she begged.
He shed his pants quickly and settled over her, weight on his elbows. Then he shifted, remembering an important detail. “I forgot to bring condoms,” he said. “Do you have any?”
“I’m on the pill,” she whispered. “And I’m okay. Healthy. Are you—?”
Charlie swallowed hard, nodding. “You’re sure?” The idea of being inside Riley like that appealed too damn much. Their gazes tangled as he slid into her—skin to skin for the first time.
She was so hot and wet and tight, and it felt so incredible to be in her, to be moving without any barrier between them. He slowed, trying to last longer than his building pleasure would allow.
“No,” she whispered, her nails digging into his shoulder blades. “Faster.”
He pushed himself up so he could look into her eyes as he rocked into her, so he could watch the pleasure on her face.
She wrapped her legs around his waist and threw her head back, her eyes fluttering closed.
Her nails dug into her shoulder blades as the orgasm took her and she convulsed around him. His own pleasure climbed, and his c**k swelled more than he thought possible, spurred by direct contact with her hot, wet sex.
When he came inside her, it was she who cried out.
He allowed himself several long moments to recover. Burying his head in the crook of her neck, he breathed in the sweet, clean scent of her. She smelled like a cool spring day with clear skies and laundry on the line. She smelled like home.
He carefully slid out of her and rolled to his side. “I’ve never done that before,” he said softly. He brought her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “Thank you.”
She turned and smiled at him, her green eyes soft. “Which part? The quickie part or the no condom part?”
He chuckled. “My male pride insists I lie to you and tell you I’ve never blown my load so quickly, but I believe we have video evidence proving otherwise.”
She laughed, her fingers running lazy trails over his chest. “And you even wore a condom…then?”
A lock of her hair had fallen in her face, and Charlie brushed it behind her ear, reading her question in her eyes. “I wore a condom every time. Even with Angela.”
“Angela is…?”
“My son’s mother.” The word son still felt strange attached to him, more like playing pretend than talking about his real life.
She let out a long breath. “So he is yours.”
Charlie nodded. “He looks just like me and the numbers make sense.”
“How old is he?”
“Sixteen. About the age I was when he was conceived.” Charlie smiled, thinking of Tony. “He’s a good kid. A little sneaky, but only because he knows what he wants.”
She smiled, her green eyes soft. “What’s it like, having a child? You know, flesh of your flesh and all that?”
Charlie propped himself up on an elbow. He wanted a better view of her as they talked about this part of his life, as he shared this vulnerable piece of himself. “I don’t really know. I wasn’t given the opportunity to be his father. Angela must have been pregnant when I left town, but I didn’t know, and she never contacted me again until I was served with those papers.”
Riley sat up, her cheeks flushing. “How could she do that? You had a right to know.”
Charlie sighed. He pushed himself off the floor and offered her a hand. When they stood face to face, he pressed his lips to hers. Her indignation on his behalf warmed long-ago hardened places inside him.
“What was that for?” she asked when he pulled away.
He grinned. “Just for believing in me.” Then with a sigh, he explained, “Angela thought it was best for Tony if I wasn’t part of his life. Given the circumstances—that I was a high school dropout bent on living life on my own terms and no one else’s—maybe she was right.”
Riley shook her head. “I don’t believe it. Not for a minute. You’re a good man, and ready or not you were the child’s father. She stole sixteen years from you.”
“Is that what you think about those years your father wasn’t in your life?”
Riley flinched, then slipped away from him and walked around to sit on the couch. Charlie followed her, sitting beside her but saying nothing. “It’s not his fault. Not completely. My mom told him she didn’t need his money or his help.”
“How did you feel about that?” Charlie asked softly.
“I didn’t know any better until after she died. I guess then it occurred to me that he should have pushed the issue. He was my father, why didn’t he insist on visitation?”
Charlie reached for her hand and squeezed it in his.
“And it might have occurred to me that the transition after her death would have been easier if he hadn’t been a stranger to me. My whole like would have been different if I’d known him, been sure of his love before he was the only one I had.”
“Do you think you’d be dancing for a living now…if you hadn’t been bent on proving yourself to your father?”
She blinked at him. “It’s not easy to make a living as a dancer.”
He turned on the couch and drew her to him so she was leaning against his chest. “That’s not what I asked.”
“I think we all have a dream of…what we could have been,” she said softly. “Except maybe you—fancy professional poker player.” She tilted her chin up and grinned at him.
“Maybe we’re both too scared to go after what we really want.”
She turned in his arms and put her hand against his face, studying him. “What do you want, Charlie?”
“I want…” You. “…a way out of the poker life. Another career opportunity that would let me stay here, near Tony.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know yet. I’m a little worried there’s nothing else I’m any good at.” It was embarrassing to say it out loud, but he knew he could tell Riley the truth. Lacing his fingers through hers, Charlie watched her carefully. “Would you like to meet my son?”
She didn’t recoil or pull away. Instead her eyes lit with excitement, her pink lips curved up at the corners. “Really? You want me to meet him?”
“Yeah. I do. I don’t want to f**k this up.” He gave her a sheepish grin and pressed his lips to the back of her hand. “Maybe you could come and slap me upside the head every time I act as a bad role model.”
She laughed. “Sure. What’s the plan?”
“He’s going to meet us at Grand Escape for a game of poker.”
Chapter Twenty
“So, is that kid going to join us tonight or not?” Ashton, one of Charlie’s poker buddies, asked the next night. Ashton deftly shuffled cards, not bothering to watch his hands. Showing off, as always.
Charlie, Riley, and Ashton sat in a private reserved poker room at Grand Escape waiting for Derrick or Tony or whatever the hell the kid wanted to call himself.
But Charlie’s son hadn’t showed.
Charlie looked at his watch. “Go ahead and start. We can always deal him in later.”
Riley cocked her head, grinning. “Maybe his mom didn’t like the idea of you teaching her son how to gamble?”
Charlie squeezed her hand—hell, was he actually nervous about this?—and shrugged. “It’s not like we’re playing for real money. Pretending gambling doesn’t exist doesn’t keep kids from doing it. I’d rather he understand the risks.”
Under the table, she squeezed his thigh. “I think it was sweet of you to set this up.”
Not that it would matter if Tony didn’t show. Charlie ignored the disappointment niggling at his gut. Maybe Tony was running late. Or maybe something had come up.
“You lovebirds ready to play?” Across the table, Ashton shuffled the cards and gave Riley a once-over. “Tell me you’re not really dating this loser,” he said, nodding to Charlie.
Riley reached back for Charlie’s hand. “I suppose you think I should be with someone else?”
“Sure,” Ashton said, “someone who knows a good hand from his own ass would be a good starting point.”
Charlie snorted. “Easy to talk shit when nothing’s on the line. Ry, if this were a real game, we’d walk out of here with all that cocky son-a-bitch’s money.”
“He’s just jealous because he hasn’t won a championship in months,” Ashton said, “and nobody wants to pony up to sponsor him anymore.”
Riley frowned and cast a glance at Charlie. “Why do you need sponsors?”
“They pay the high fees for the tournaments and pay us for wearing their name like a human billboard,” Ashton explained.
“It’s not so bad,” Charlie said. “It’s a good way to make a living doing this.” And it was the only way he knew how to make a living at all.
“Especially if you aren’t good enough to win,” Ashton said, razzing Charlie.
“If you didn’t blow your money on women and gambling, you wouldn’t have to win them all to make a living,” Charlie said, dishing it back.
Ashton dealt the cards and smiled at Riley. “So are you going to be Singleton’s next Nicole Abucee?”
Riley narrowed her gaze. Charlie tensed and flashed Ashton a warning glare.
Ashton ignored him. “His agent seems to think he needs another scandal to raise his appeal to the sponsors. Those pictures of you two in the paper were the best career bump this washed up talent has had in a year.”
Riley cut her gaze to Charlie again.
“My agent’s an idiot,” Charlie said. “Apparently the only thing they taught him in that fancy MBA program of his is ‘sex sells.’”
“He’s right,” Ashton said after they paid their blinds. “So, are you the Devil’s new scandal?”
“Why?” Riley asked, looking Ashton in the eye. “Are you jealous?”
Ashton chuckled. “Nah, it’s just that UltimatePokerPowerhouse.net finally got sick of dicking around with Singleton’s agent and gave the sponsorship to that new little shit—Little Jimmi?”
The air left Charlie’s lungs in a whoosh. He dropped his cards. “They did what?” Fuck. Why hadn’t Rick called?
The smile dropped from Ashton’s face. “Shit, man, they didn’t tell you? That’s low.” He gave a forced smile. “It’s okay. I’m sure our man here has some sort of backup sponsor.”
Charlie swallowed hard. He didn’t. Of course he didn’t, who wanted him?
“It doesn’t pay to play without a sponsor,” Ashton explained.
“Unless you win, right?” Riley said.
Ashton shrugged. “It’s not about skill anymore, not with the f**king internet amateurs changing the game so much. They play like they’re betting dimes, not thousands.” He shook his head. “All the strategy is gone.”
Charlie pushed back from the table. He needed some fresh air. The room was too damn hot. Too damn small.
“Charlie?” Riley put her hand on his arm. “You okay?”
Charlie forced himself to wink at her and smile. “Sounds like I need to call my agent. You’ll excuse me?”
She narrowed her gaze. “Sure.”
Charlie couldn’t get out of the room fast enough. By the time he’d reached the street, he’d fished his cell out of his pocket and pressed the memory for Rick. He hung up when he got the man’s voicemail.
Charlie paced down a block and back, his blood pressure rising. It wasn’t about the money. He wouldn’t be out on the street tomorrow if he never had another sponsor. He could sell his condo in LA and pull from his savings, but it wasn’t enough to retire on. He was thirty-two. If poker was done with him, what the hell was he supposed to do with the rest of his life?
His phone rang and he quickly took the call. “Rick, what the hell is going on?”
“Singleton, I’ve been trying to get a hold of you, buddy.”
“Could have fooled me.”
“Don’t be like that, Charlie. I called your suite and left you messages.”
Charlie hadn’t been there. He’d been with Riley. Nevertheless, it was a piss poor excuse when Rick knew his cell number. “So you lost the deal?” He resumed his pacing, anxious for his agent to get to the part where he explained that everything would be okay.
“Man, I hate that it had to go down like this, but we’re just not working out.”
Charlie froze in middle of the sidewalk. Someone slammed into his back and muttered a few choice words. “You’re firing me?”
“Maybe another agent could do better for you. I’m sorry it had to come out like this. Like I said, I called your room last night after I put the letter in the mail.”
