don’t want me to drag you into the bathroom, bend you over the sink and have my way with you, you’ll stop,” he whispered against my ear. I laughed at the irony that we were having the same salacious thoughts.
Rick racked the balls and we all agreed to no slop, calling shots, classic eight ball. Stevie broke and managed to dunk both a stripe and solid. We picked solids. The game went on and in about three turns, we were beating the boys by a large margin and enjoying every minute of it. Adam banked the cue ball, missing his shot and setting me up perfectly to pocket the eight ball. We’d already cleared the rest of the table. I lined up my stick, but straightened when Rick came behind me.
“Let’s make it more interesting, what do you say?” he asked me.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m about to whip your ass here.” I gestured to the table, which was void of any solid-colored balls, except the eight ball.
He embraced me and whispered in my ear, “Yes, so the bet would be in your favor then.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“You make this shot and I’ll take you sky diving tomorrow.” I hadn’t expected him to say that. I hadn’t brought it up since he told me about his parents’ death, because I knew that was why he didn’t want to jump out of a small plane.
“Rick, you don’t have to do that,” I said tersely.
“I want to. That is, I want to do it with you. I’ve been thinking about it and I’d like to cross that item off our list.”
It touched me that he’d want to do that. “What if I don’t make the shot?”
“Then you spend the night with me tonight.” I gulped, glad he couldn’t see my face because it was against his chest.
“Come on, Marley, like you said it’s an easy shot. Do you think you’re going to choke now?” It was an easy shot, one I could probably make with my eyes closed. Ironically, Rick didn’t realize he had just bet his fear against mine. I didn’t know if it was the fine tea from Long Island, my naturally cocky attitude, or the smell of Rick’s enticing cologne, but I agreed to his bet.
I backed away from him. “Deal,” I agreed, holding out my hand.
He took my outstretched hand, but instead of shaking it, he pulled me in for a kiss. He slanted his mouth against mine, coaxing me to part my lips so he could enter with his tongue. He’d been drinking whisky and I could taste it. I hated whisky normally, but tasting it on his tongue mixed with his natural minty flavor, was intoxicatingly delicious. It was better than…German Chocolate Cake. When he released me, I was breathless and wobbly.
“Are you going to shoot or make out with Rick all night?” Adam asked wryly.
I sighed in annoyance at Adam’s remark, before bending over to make my shot. I slid the pool stick in my hand, back and forth, using the forward motion of the cue the way I’d been taught for such a shot.
It backfired on me when Rick muttered just loud enough so I could hear it, “Hmm…going with a slip stroke…very nice. I hope you remember that technique later.”
Damn, did he have to flirt now? In fairness, it was the name of my shot. It still messed with my mind though, like everything else about tonight. I couldn’t get the taste of Rick’s mouth out of my head or the fact that kissing him tonight was as good as our first kiss. I’d had an epiphany a little while ago that I loved him. The way he looked at me held me captive, whether it was lustful, possessive or adoring. The way he always wanted to take care of me and make sure I was all right was something I’d never experienced. I could talk to him, openly—if not completely honestly—was a refreshing and new experience. I knew what I was feeling finally. I loved Richard Ulysses Randy with all my heart and it scared the hell out of me.
I hit the cue ball with the right amount of English—it hit the eight ball just right. The eight ball went into the corner pocket easily then…so did the cue ball. Crap! I scratched my shot and lost the game. I had a momentary mini panic attack when I realized I’d lost the bet too.
Adam and Rick high-fived each other