Play Me

Chapter One

I’m going to kill my brother.

Roman Steele muttered under his breath as he ended his shift, carefully checking the cards and organizing his table. He’d only been in Vegas for a few short weeks, and already his older brother bossed him around. After convincing him to transfer from Atlantic City, Rick set him up with a woman for the evening. Rome’s temper cranked up a notch. When he got a hold of Rick, he’d kick his ass. He didn’t need help recruiting a female for company, despite his brother’s good intentions.

With methodical precision, he counted out chips and stacked decks while he brooded. The casino swung into overload as night arrived in full blown, Vegas style. The ching of the machines vibrated with noisy celebration and competed with screams of rivalry around the roulette table. The lushness of the casino beckoned both the novice and experienced gambler to play. From the dripping crystal chandeliers to the merlot carpet, opulence flashed from every room and pampered the crowds. Cocktail waitresses rushed by in low cut tops and short skirts, balancing trays filled with vivid neon drinks. The familiar scents of exotic perfume, musk, and money drifted in the air. He held back a groan. He craved a soft bed and a hard drink. Alone. Instead, the call from his brother beckoned him with other possibilities.

The perfect woman.

He snorted at the impossible thought. The popular dating service,1Night Stand, supposedly hooked up clients for the night with an ideal match. His brother actually believed Madame Eve, who ran the company, possessed the magical power to find him his soul mate.

Mid thirties threatened and he still hadn’t found someone to challenge his normally dominant side. Moving to Vegas only made him more depressed as he dated the same women over and over, chasers of money and glory, out for a man to finance their dreams, or to find a cheap thrill for the night. The bars continuously contained a tight knit cluster of friends on a weekend visit for an episode of Girls Gone Wild. If he saw one more drunken wink with the accompanying drawl, Everything in Vegas stays in Vegas, he’d vomit.

Hell, he’d become a grump.

Since Rick began working for Castillo Resorts and Hotels, his brother seemed focused on getting Rome married and settled. Not that Vegas was the best place to put down roots, but Rick had changed since meeting his wife, and wanted to share the bliss. Seems Madame Eve hooked his brother up with Tara. Rick now touted family and commitment, and actually admitted he wanted children. He never spoke of details, but his obsession with Rome using the company’s services convinced him that his brother actually believed his one-night stand had potential for more.

Ridiculous.

He ignored the deep pang in his gut and buried it with the ease of an expert. Images of a woman by his side for the long term haunted him. His relationships always lacked something crucial. He craved a woman who challenged him on every level—inside and outside the bedroom. Someone who wouldn’t fear his need for dominance and surrender without the strict rules and limits of a Dom/sub relationship. He shook his head at his inner whining. He needed to get the hell over himself and get off. He’d probably feel better.

Grabbing his bag, he changed out of his uniform, and headed toward the bar for a quick drink.

His phone vibrated and he glanced at the text. Bonjour, Roman. Your brother speaks highly of you. Are you ready to begin your adventure?

He hesitated. Hell, what did he have to lose? A night of great sex with no strings attached. Before he could change his mind, his fingers flew across the keys. Good evening, Madame Eve. Since my brother leaves me no choice, I’ll put myself in your capable hands.

The phone shook in his palm as if in excitement. Very good. You will find her seated at the blackjack table, far right, second chair from the left. Short dark hair. Dressed in black. Her name is Sloane Keller. Bon chance.

The screen went blank.

He shook his head as the call dropped. Then with a jump, the Blackberry zinged back to life. His back itched between his shoulder blades. The same damn feeling he always got when something big hovered in sight. Like a cheat at his table counting cards. Or a woman about to play him.

Walking past the bar, he headed toward table six. He needed to loosen up and not take the encounter too seriously. His older brother had bought him an evening with a woman—hopefully one he was compatible with. No reason to bitch and look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

He stopped dead and stared at the woman in black at table six.

Her name suddenly rang through his head in a symphony of clanging bells. Sloane Keller. Champion of the World Series of Poker. The Queen of Cards.

His mouth snapped shut. Was this a joke? A revised version of Candid Camera? He’d been half in love with her since she’d stumbled on the card scene with a cold confidence that pissed everyone off. She’d come from behind and won her first poker championship with the big boys. An unknown, unnamed long shot everyone expected to laugh out of the game. With icy deliberation, she knocked every other player off the table and never batted an eyelash with victory.

Shit. She’s gorgeous.

His gaze swept over her with a greediness he’d never experienced. The woman practically exuded I dare you to any guy within distance. Her hair shimmered under the lights, an exotic black cherry, falling pin straight to brush the top of her shoulders. Longish bangs hid most of her features until she turned her head, and he caught a whirling impression of strength. A stubborn chin. High cheekbones. Arched dark brows. Thick eyelashes. Her lips were ruby red and not overly puffy like the normal Botox look. No, they were perfectly sculpted with just a hint of plumpness in the lower one. Her outfit added to the impression of lean power—a sleeveless black silk blouse, dark trousers, low-heeled sandals. She perched on the chair as she stared at her cards, her blood red toenails tapping on the bottom rung. Her fingers were lightning quick, the nails matching the color of her toes.

Suddenly, she paused. Her shoulders tightened and she swung her head around with a hint of annoyance. Her gaze slammed into his with a fierceness and challenge that singed his nerve endings and his cock. Eyes a bottomless violet sucked him in as deep as he imagined her wet pussy would welcome him. But it wouldn’t be easy. Everything about the woman screamed the need for an alpha to take her under him. Figuratively and literally.

He met her stare dead on and refused to back down. A few beats passed. Then she turned away with a dismissive shake of her head, obviously irritated she’d lost the skirmish. Satisfaction thrummed in his veins. Finally. A woman he could sink his teeth into without worrying. I bet this woman would bite back.

Why the hell had she signed up for a 1Night Stand? She had her own groupies—men who’d line up to take her to bed. Vegas looked upon her as a literal rock star.

He took stock of the situation. There must be a damn good reason she used a dating service to get laid. Her dismissal told him she cared less if he’d been bought and paid for. She refused to stroll off with any man, even if Madame Eve arranged it. The deliberate action told him he’d need to earn his time with Sloane Keller.

A smile played about his lips.

Game on.

He closed the distance between them.

She watched the man approach her table with her peripheral vision and pretended to be engaged in her hand. Is this him? Hell and damnation, the man is hot. Of course, she’d met many hot men in her travels. Most of them crumbled under the personality test, but something told her he’d hold his own. In fact, maybe he’d even surpass her.

Madame Evangeline might have scored a home run.

He was a mixture of George Clooney and Richard Gere, with short gray hair cut close to his scalp. A sexy, scruffy beard hugged a perfectly sculpted jaw and set off the sensual curve to his bottom lip. His eyes glimmered with a controlled strength and he moved with a predatory grace as he crossed the room. Was he former military? A shiver tingled down her spine. The thin white shirt and black pants did nothing to mask his rock hard body. She tried to control the dip in her tummy when he stood beside her. When was the last time a man excited her at first glance? His body heat and the delicious scent of lemon and spice rose to her nostrils. She kept her head down, gaze on the cards, and waited for his first move.

She tapped her finger on the table for a hit. Jack of spades smiled up at her. The dealer nodded and slid the chips toward her as she met the goal of twenty-one. Then she looked up.

He didn’t speak, but his gaze drilled into hers. The odd combination of blue and gray reminded her of rainy skies and stormy seas. He waited by her side as if enjoying the game of blackjack for pleasure. She knew from the 1Night Stand report that he worked as a dealer at the Castillo Resort. Would he have the balls to play a round with her?

She raised her hand to her dealer, Wayne, for a short pause then swiveled in her stool to face the man beside her.

“Were you ever going to introduce yourself?”

His bold appraisal stripped her naked and pumped her with pleasure. An amused smile touched his carved lips. “Didn’t want to break your concentration. Besides, it seems we have all night, Sloane Keller.”

She raised her brow. “Perhaps. And you are?”

He seemed even more pleased at her obstinacy. “Roman Steele. You can call me Rome.”

He looks like a Rome. She imagined him dressed in armor and chains, leading an army of men with no thought to being disobeyed. Imagined him standing over the bed of a naked woman, ready to enjoy his spoils.

As the only player at the table, Wayne waited patiently for her to decide whether or not she wanted to continue. She upped the stakes. “Do you play?”

“Of course.”

“What’s your pleasure?” She dropped her voice to a husky drawl.

He bumped a hip against her chair. “Poker, of course.”

She wondered how he’d handle her. Most men she met either fawned like a groupie or treated her like shit. Since he was bought and paid for, she figured she’d test him before she made her final decision. If she didn’t like him, she’d demand her money back before they even hit the elevators. “Funny, me too. But I like a good game of blackjack to relax.”

“Are you good?”

She smiled slowly. “I’m the best.”

“Cocky, huh?”

“Confident.” She leaned forward. Her lips stopped inches from his. The sizzling tension between them stretched in exquisite agony. “Not that I mind a little−cockiness.” Her gaze lingered on his lips then dropped slowly to the evident bulge in his pants. “As long as someone can back it up.”

Smoke gray eyes heated and sharpened like lightning. “Oh, I can back it up.”

“Care to play a hand with me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He slid onto the stool next to her and motioned to Wayne to deal him in. “So, you in Vegas for business or pleasure?”

She watched the cards fly and leaned back in her stool, automatically searching for clues in his face to find what type of player he was. “Pleasure tonight. Business tomorrow.”

“Big tournament, huh?”

She nodded. His casual reference held no adoration or resentment. In fact, he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. A thrill shot down her spine and right between her legs, leaving her hot and wet. As the Queen of the Cards, she hit the high stakes signature poker room at the Castillo regularly. At a minimum of $20,000 to grab a seat, she believed the play integral to honing her skill in the competition of the World Series of Poker.

Two wins placed her name at the top of the charts in Vegas. Unfortunately, most men couldn’t handle the intimidation. Her last relationship bombed so badly she’d teetered on switching teams and going full lesbo. Not only was she physically hard up, it had been so long since she enjoyed an honest, open relationship she worried she’d become one of those very rich spinsters who spent their life doing things for charity. She fought a shudder at the thought.

But Rome Steele didn’t seem too afraid of her.

And, God, she needed an orgasm.

How humiliating. The tabloids stalked and publicized her exotic hook-ups. Fortunately, the press had no idea they were mostly visual candy to throw people off track. Some of her most well known escorts were only good friends or gay. The ones she attempted to actually sleep with were...disappointing. Something must be wrong with her. Her climaxes gave her barely a hiccup of pleasure. She craved a man’s body under her hands and warming her bed, so when her friend told her about Madame Eve, she decided she had nothing to lose. She did not engage in one-night stands for the risk factor. She believed in controlling all details, from her work to her play.

Pushing away her thoughts, she concentrated on her hand. Ten of clubs for her. Deuce for her one-night stand. She kept her head down and watched from the corner of her eye for every nuance of expression, and dug deep into her gut. Yes, he wasn’t a safe player. Not stupid, but he liked risk. He’d ask for a hit fifty percent of the time when he should stay. She watched the dealer flip up an ace for himself.

She tapped her finger twice on the table. The solemn face of the Queen stared up at her. She hid a smile and put out her hand in the hold gesture. Rome’s card slid across the table. Eight of hearts. A slight hesitation did him in, and his next hit revealed a six. Done.

Wayne kept his expression neutral as he dealt himself a card. Five of spades. Without a flicker of an eyelash, he hit himself again. Ten. Done.

The chips slid into her pile to match her first mound. She waited for the fake expression of awe she usually received from her dates. Instead, he treated her to a wolfish grin that promised he’d eat her for breakfast and enjoy every last bite. He grasped her wrist in a firm grip and pulled her forward so their lips were inches away.

“Nice warm up. But can you do it again?”

She laughed with sheer pleasure. “Of course.”

“Fine. Do it again and you get me for the night to do whatever you want.”

She gazed at him with suspicion. “I already did.”

“Not yet.”

Admiration cut through her. This man was not led around by his cock. Curiosity teased the question from her. “What do you get if you win?”

Determination and promise gleamed from his blue-gray eyes in warning. His voice dropped to a growl. “You, of course. But you’ll listen to everything I say without any back talk.” He paused and deliberately stared at her with the look of a warrior issuing an order. “And obey.”

She gave him an icy glare. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Her thighs clenched and her panties grew damp. Why did his commanding tone turn her on? Her nipples tightened painfully, her body on full alert, practically begging him to make good on his threat. She forced the excitement down, knowing she’d win. She always won. Still, he never backed down, and she wanted him in her bed. She licked her lips and nodded.

“Done.”

Wayne dealt the cards. The stately king of diamonds winked at her. Rome took a five. The dealer turned over a lucky seven. They moved to the face down cards.

Her senses opened up as her view narrowed to the dealer’s hands, and the cards on the table. She looked at the next card, poised for the flip, and imagined an ace. She watched the ace unfold and put her hand out to stay.

Rome took a ten. She knew the odds favored a bust. The man never even paused, just tapped the table. Six of spades. Twenty-one.

The dealer busted and they both raked in chips. Sloane glanced up at Rome and found no emotion etched on his face. Definitely a good dealer. His quick movements and stone face challenged her. Her respect nudged up a few notches. She’d dated dealers before, hoping the knowledge and shared love of the game would be a bond. Usually, they ended up pissed off at her for winning most of the time, or became clingy when she wanted to play in other casinos.

He didn’t look concerned or overly interested. They set themselves up for round two.

This time she hit twenty. Wayne held at eighteen. And her one-night stand surprised her for the second time that night.

His cards added up to sixteen. She prepared to leave the table with her winnings, cash out, and have some very good sex with her Roman warrior. Instead, he tapped the table for a hit.

If she hadn’t been so used to guarding every emotional reaction, a gasp would have escaped her lips. Why would he hit? The odds were almost impossible not to bust. Her eyes widened slightly as she waited for the card.

Six of clubs.

Blackjack.

Son of a bitch.

He pulled in his chips and turned to face her. No hint of victory marred the carved lines of his face, or the steady gleam in his eye. He said a few words to Wayne and slid some chips across the table for the tip then he stood and offered his hand. “Your room or mine?”

She blinked up at him and tried to school her features. When was the last time she lost a hand to an amateur? The glint of purpose in his ocean eyes told her he knew her thoughts. The sudden turn of events slammed into her like a launched champagne cork.

I agreed to do anything he said.

The answering thrill hit her body as fast as her mind. She grew wet and achy, ready for him to take charge. He’d won. There was nothing she respected more in another player...or in a man.

Her voice caught on the word. “Mine.”

His fingers interlaced with hers and he gently tugged her off the stool, making sure to scoop the chips into her cup. “Lead the way.”

They walked in silence to the elevators. Never spoke as the doors swooshed open on the thirty sixth floor for the Penthouse suites. She ushered him in and clicked the door behind her. He scanned the lush interior with a quick dismissal that confirmed his ease with luxury hotels. Castillo Resorts rivaled the best in Vegas, and she only stayed at the best. The gorgeous colors of the desert theme interspersed the room with a cream sectional sofa, rich cherry wood dining area, and a wet bar taking up one entire side. The oriental carpet and watercolor canvases lent an exclusive feel to the suite. The ceiling-to-floor windows gave an aerial view of the shimmering lights of Sin City during a hazy sunset.

He walked to the wall and hit the button. With expert grace, the blinds slowly closed and blocked the city from view, shrouding the room in a shadow. He took charge of her room as if he owned it, and her. A virginal shiver slid down her spine and she stood rooted to the ground in a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. He closed the distance between them with a few strides.

Then smiled.

She sucked in her breath at the flash of white teeth amidst the sexy stubble of beard that covered his upper lip and jaw and at that moment, it wouldn’t surprise her to spot fangs. He looked exactly like a wolf about to enjoy long hours toying with his meal.

“Let’s play, Sloane Keller. Take off your clothes.” He leaned forward an inch so his warm breath struck her trembling lips. “Now.”