Chapter 5

• “Jealous, sweetheart?” He raises his eyebrows as his grin flashes arrogantly. “We can always finish what we started, and you can mark me any way you’d like.”
• She gently shoves her hand against his chest, pushing him back. She’d love to wipe that smirk off of his face. Leave her mark that way. “Sorry, I don’t waste my time on misogynist jerks like you. Go find someone—”
• “Careful, Annabelle,” he warns as he grips her wrist, looking every bit as dangerous as his voice threatens. “I don’t take kindly to insults.”
• She tries to yank her wrist away, but his hold remains. To anyone in the room, it looks as if she’s laying her hand on his heart in affection. They can’t feel the steel strength of his grip.
• “Then hear this,” she snaps, tired of this game and the warring emotions and sensations within her. Anger takes hold. “You only want me because I’m the first female who’s said no to your gorgeous face and come-fuck-me body. You’re so used to every female falling at your feet, pun intended, that you see a challenge—someone immune to your charm—and you’re unsure how to react.”
• Despite his nonchalant shrug, she can see his underlying irritation as he releases her wrist. “When I like what I see, I go after it,” he states unapologetically.
• Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes. “No, you need to prove to yourself that you can, in fact, get any girl who crosses your path. Your ego’s bruised. I understand,” she patronizes, patting his arm. “Well, don’t sweat it, Ace, I forfeit this race.”
• He raises an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he finds something humorous in her comment. The muscle in his clenched jaw tics as he regards her momentarily. “Let’s get something straight,” he leans in, inches from her mouth, the gleam in his eyes warning her she’s gone too far. “If I want you, I can and will have you, at any time and in any place, sweetheart.”
• She snorts in the most unladylike way, astonished at his audacity, yet trying to ignore the quickening of her pulse at the thought. “Don’t bet on it,” she sneers as she hastily tries to skirt past.
• His hand whips out and grabs hold of her arm again, spinning her back toward him, so that she’s standing intimately close. She can see his pulse beat in the line beneath his jaw. Can feel the fabric of his jacket hit her arm as his chest rises and falls. She glances down at his hand on her arm and glares back at him in warning, yet his hold still remains. He leans his face in to hers so that she can feel his breath feather across her cheek. She angles her head up to his, not sure if she’s raising her chin in defiance or in anticipation of his kiss.
• “Lucky you, I’m a gambling man, Annabelle,” his resonating voice is just a whisper of sound. “I do, in fact, like a good challenge now and again,” he provokes, a mischievous smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He releases her arm, but runs his finger lazily down the rest of it. The soft scrape of his finger on her exposed skin sends shivers down her back.
• “So let’s make a bet.” He stops and nods at a passing acquaintance, bringing her to the here and now as she’s forgotten that they’re in a room full of people.
• “Didn’t your mother teach you when a lady says no, she really means no?” She raises her eyebrow, a look of disdain on her face.
• That smarmy smirk of his is back in full force as he nods in acknowledgement at her comment. “She also taught me that when I want something, I need to keep after it until I get it.”
• Great, so now she’s acquired a stalker. A handsome, sexy, very annoying stalker.
• He reaches out and toys with a loose curl on the side of her neck. She tries to remain impassive despite her urge to close her eyes and sink into the whisper of his fingers across her skin. His smirk tells her that he knows exactly what his effect is on her. “So, like I said, Annabelle, a bet?”
• She bristles at his proposition. Or maybe it is at his effect on her. “This is asinine—”
• “I bet by the end of the night,” he cuts her off, holding a hand up to stop her, “I have a date with you.”
• She laughs out loud, stepping back from him. “Not a chance in hell!”
• He takes a long swallow of his drink, his expression guarded. “What are you scared of then? That you can’t resist me?” He flashes a wicked grin when she rolls her eyes. “Agree then. What do you have to lose?”
• “So you get a date with me and your bruised ego is restored,” she shrugs indifferently, wanting no part of this contest. “What will I get out of it?”
• “If you win—”
• “You mean if I can resist your dazzling charm,” she retorts, her voice laced with sarcasm.
• “Let me rephrase. If you can resist my dazzling charm by the end of the night, then I’ll donate,” he flickers his fingers through the air in a gesture of irrelevance, “let’s say, twenty thousand dollars to your cause.”
• She catches her breath and looks at him in bewilderment, for this she can agree to. She knows that there’s no way in hell that she’ll succumb to Kensington or his captivating wiles, the arrogant bastard. Agreed, she was caught in his tantalizing web for a few moments, but it was just because it’s been so long since she’s felt like that. Since she’s been kissed like that. Been touched like that.
• Come to think of it, she doesn’t think that she has ever been made to feel like that. But then again, she knows that a man has never kissed her while his lips were still warm from another woman’s.
• She regards him impassively, trying to figure out the catch. Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe he’s just so cocky that he really thinks he’s that irresistible. All she knows is that she’s going to increase their contribution total tonight by twenty thousand.
• “Isn’t this bet going to put a damper on your evening’s pursuit of other possible bedside companions?” She pauses, taking a survey of the room. “It’s not looking too promising, considering you’re oh for two right now.”
• “I think I’ll manage,” he laughs out loud. “Don’t worry about me. I’m good at multi-tasking,” he quips, trying to beat her at her own game. “Besides, the night’s still young, and by my count the score is oh for one so far. The second score has yet to be settled.” He arches his eyebrows at her. “Don’t overthink it, Annabelle. It’s a bet. Plain and simple.”
• She crosses her arms across her chest. The decision is easy. Anything for her boys. “Better get your checkbook ready. There’s nothing I like better than proving arrogant bastards like you wrong.”
• He takes another sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving hers. “You sure are certain of yourself.”
• “Let’s just say that my self-control is something that I pride myself on.”
• Kensington steps closer to her again. “Self-control, huh?” he murmurs, challenge dancing in his eyes. “Seems we’ve already tested that theory, Annabelle, and it didn’t seem to hold true. I’d be glad to test it again, though … ”
• The muscles in her core clench at the possible promise, the ache burning there, begging for relief. Why is she acting like a girl who has never felt a man’s touch before? Maybe because it has never been this man’s touch.
• “Okay,” she tells him, sticking out her hand to shake his, “It’s a bet. But I’ll warn you, I don’t lose.”
• He reaches out to take her hand, a broad smile lighting up his. features, eyes sparkling a bold emerald. “Neither do I, Annabelle,” he murmurs. “Neither do I.”
• “Annabelle, sorry to interrupt but we need you right now,” says a voice behind her.
• She turns to find Stella, a look of panic on her face. She looks toward Kensington, “If you’ll excuse me, I’m needed elsewhere.” She feels awkward in the moment. Unsure what else she should say or do.
• He nods his head at her. “We’ll talk more later.”
• As she walks away, she realizes she’s not sure if his response is a threat or a promise.