The Player (The Game Maker #3) - Kresley Cole Page 0,49

would’ve just done it.”

He squared his shoulders, as if proud of what he was about to say. “I reminded myself that if I broke my promise, I could lose the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I whispered. “Me?”

“You, ángel.”

But I wasn’t an angel. I was so far from it.

“Those bites of pain were well worth my reward.” He rose, unfolding his tall frame. My gaze locked on his dick.

How would I make it through another night without sex?

He headed to my bathroom, giving me the view of his powerful back and shoulders, his lean hips. . . .

His ass.

Good thing I’m not standing.

His taut cheeks were sculpted with hollows on the sides. The play of contracting muscles taunted my nails to dig into them. I wanted to grip that flesh as he pounded me. I imagined nipping him there, and a whimper escaped my lips.

He paused, then walked on, saying, “Are you objectifying me, Vika?”

A laugh bubbled up.

When he returned, he pulled on his clothes before my rapt gaze. I kept thinking, That god of a man just came from my bed. . . .

Dressed, he sat beside me. “I am pleased we have things settled now.”

“Settled?” Oh. That.

“You and I are exclusive with one another.”

As I stared into his thrall eyes, I figured, Well, we could be exclusive.

Ah! I dragged my gaze away. “I can’t look at you.”

He pinched my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. “Why, ángel?” Hurt flashed across his expression.

“Because I feel as if I’m under some kind of spell. You look at me like this, and I can’t think. And worse, I can’t seem to tell you no.”

“Then never tell me no.”

“You’re crazy.” I bit my tongue as soon as the words left it. I hadn’t meant to say it earlier either.

“Yes. I am on occasion. But tonight I wasn’t.”

I needed to get to the bottom of this. There were different levels and types of crazy, right? He was probably just a social oddball, an eccentric—

“I have a gift for you.”

Gift???

He reached into a jacket pocket. “Close your eyes, and keep them closed.”

I did.

“I hope you like diamonds.” Cool metal glided over my collarbones and neck. The strand was heavy. “You can look now.”

I gasped at the necklace. A dozen large diamonds were spaced randomly down a platinum chain, each one set in a bezel of tiny sapphires. The stones came in all different shapes: oval, pear, marquise, triangular. The necklace had no discernible pattern. I loved it!

Though ridiculously picky about clothes and jewelry, I could wear this piece forever. “Are you dicking with me?”

“No. I am not.”

I dragged my gaze from the sparkling rocks. “Ah, you do want to be my sugar daddy. A piece of jewelry for an orgasm. It is Vegas after all.”

“If I paid you what that orgasm was worth to me, I’d be back in the research lab because I would be penniless.”

And here comes the charm. I couldn’t stop a grin.

“I gave you that necklace because it’s a good start for your collection. I warn you now, I will spoil you to an embarrassing degree.”

I tilted my head. “You’re not the first man to tell me things like this. To make promises.”

“Then I’ll be the first man smart enough to keep them. I will pick you up tomorrow at one. Pack for warm weather.” I got the sense that leaving me pained him. As soon as the thought occurred, he informed me, “This will be the last night I part from you.”

I couldn’t allow myself to believe the promise in his eyes—because it was way too soon. Plus, he was a man.

But what if . . . ?

At the door, he said, “Have sweet dreams, moy ángel. Mine will be of you.”

What if, what if, what if? Once he’d locked me in and I heard the limo leave, I squealed with happiness, drumming my feet on the bed.

CHAPTER 19

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At ten till one, a knock sounded. I was still in my underwear! “Just a sec,” I called, shimmying past my overnight bag to reach my closet.

I grabbed a simple black linen sheath I’d made. The shortest part of the asymmetrical hem hit just above my knees. I smoothed my hands down the front, proud of my work, then stepped into pointy-toed black pumps.

My gaze lit on my new necklace, laid out on my duvet. Last night, I’d sent a picture of it to the family’s conference line along with a message: Got drama from night before worked out

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