Big Man

He smirks and turns away to lead me off the floor, though he keeps his hand wrapped around mine long after we leave the dance floor behind.

“Think we’ve started enough rumors yet?” I ask in a soft voice as we cross the tent. He stops by the coolers propped at the far end to grab another beer and tosses me a mischievous grin along with a second beer.

“Far from it.”

I glance past him at the rest of the tent. It feels like everyone in here is staring at me now—but maybe that’s just my imagination.

“They’re not as bad as you think, you know,” Grant murmurs beside my ear, so close that a shiver runs down my back. I can feel his hot breath on my cheek, and that combined with the memory of his arms around me, the hard press of his cock through his jeans when we ended that dance, it makes me feel horny as a teenager at her first school dance. I want to grab him and drag him into the trees around this field, rip those jeans off.

My cheeks flare bright red. “They’re staring,” I point out, my voice low.

“Only because you’re worth looking at.” He smirks, then his eyes dart past me for a second. “Game?”

For a moment, I don’t understand what he means. Then I follow his gaze to the nearest pool table, now empty of players. I smirk, too. “You’re on.”

Those staring spectators don’t dissipate as we cross to pick up our cues. If anything, the crowd grows. By the time Grant breaks and lands two solid pockets in a row, there’s an actual audience standing around our table.

“Have you warned your new girl you’re a shark at this game, Werther?” one of the guys comments, strolling over to join the slowly growing spectators around our table.

Grant snorts, but misses his next shot, and I grin as the cue ball lines up perfectly with a stripe in the corner pocket. I sink that, then two more, one after another, my smirk widening with every shot. By the third, the crowd is whooping.

“Guess the shark has met his match,” the guy amends, and Grant locks eyes with me, a challenge in his dark gaze.

I toss my head, beaming now. “Or there’s a new shark in town.” With that, I sink my fourth ball in a row, and exchange celebratory high-fives with a few guys who offer their palms. Troy has joined the crowd now, and Meredith, along with her husband, Joe.

“Kick his ass, Sasha,” Meredith calls, and I wink at her as I line up my next shot.

But I must be getting too confident, too fast, because the next shot misses. And it lines Grant’s next move up perfectly. Damn. I bite my lip and step away as I wait for him to fire.

He pockets another ball. I swallow hard. He lands another one after that, and I realize it’s time to whip out the big guns.

I step closer to the table and lean down to watch his next shot, right in his line of vision.

He glances up to line up the balls, and then his eyes dart to me. To my cleavage, showing just below the neckline of my dress. All he’ll be able to glimpse from his angle is a hint of red lace, the edge of my bra, and a little bit of the cleavage it’s pushing up to my advantage.

But apparently it’s enough.

Grant fires and misses completely, scratching the ball.

The whoops around us intensify, and a few guys slap Grant on the back.

“Losing your touch, man,” Troy teases him as I toss the cue ball in my palm, debating where to line up.

“And to a city girl, no less,” I add, batting my lashes with faux innocence.

The look in his eyes is half annoyance, half furious desire. “What can I say?” he replies, a cool smile on his mouth. “I don’t have the same bag of tricks up my sleeve.” He does, however, lean against the table as I set up my next shot, making sure to stretch his arms wide enough that it pulls his T-shirt taut, shows off the outline of his muscles beneath, every sexy inch of them.

I tear my gaze away, forcing my head into the game. I pocket my next two balls. Down to just one and the 8-ball left.

“What do you say we up the stakes?” Grant asks, his voice low.

A couple of whistles steal through the crowd anyway.

I lift an eyebrow. “What did you have in mind?”

“I win, you have to do everything I say for the next hour.”

The crowd titters with laughter. He, however, has his dark eyes fixed straight on me, dead serious. And I know exactly what he’s thinking.

A trickle of desire runs down my spine. I imagine myself doing his bidding. Whatever he commands…