Covered Edges

Chapter 19

I suddenly feel ten times more confident and make eye contact with Damon, keeping a sultry gaze. I hook my thumbs into the sides and shimmy down my jeans, tantalizingly slow. His eyes widen and he slips off of the cue, forgetting he had his whole body resting against it. After he regained posture, I had kicked my pants out from underneath me and allowed the end of my tank-top to rest at my hips instead of tugging it down. Swishing my hips, I saunter towards him and mentally scold myself because I know how embarrassingly uncharacteristic this is of me; but, I have to win. And by the way his longing gaze is trailing me I know I'm doing damn well at distracting.

I'm standing next to him now; his eyes are dancing across me.

"Still your turn," I say sweetly, peeking up at him through my lashes.

He keeps his cool composure, "Your level of observation is through the roof," he says arrogantly before bending over again.

I feel an annoyed twitch tweaking my eyelid; I want to shoot back, but I know I can't. He seems relaxed, and I'm about to give up on my plan until I notice something, or, more so, don't notice something. His jaw isn't clenching, which means he isn't concentrating, which means he isn't focused on his shot. I did throw him off his game, now I just need to complete the task to make sure he'll miss. Because, even if distracted, I'm pretty sure Damon's pure strive to win will pocket his next shot.

Leaning over the table, I arch my body in the most appealing manor possible and scoot in. I can hear the sharp intake of breath and feel Damon's body go rigid. He glances to his left quickly to get a peek, then resumes aligning his cue. As one final safety measure, I wait for him to pull his arm back before looking into my shirt and saying,

"Wow, have they grown?"

His cue strikes down into the green felt, scuffing it up. It just barely hits the white ball, not enough to even hit any surrounding ball let alone put one in a socket. I smile triumphantly and Damon sinks against the board, deflated. I walk over and grab my cue and skip back over to the table. He looks up with hooded eyes and begins to stand.

"I know what you're doing," he growls, clearly affected.

"What? Stripping you not only of your clothes, but of your dignity as well?" I reply in a cheery voice, delighted with my performance.

He makes his way over to me in record speed, and before I can protest, his mouth is on mine, kissing me with a fiery passion. I can't help but melt immediately. Damn my hormones, and damn Damon Black for being the best damn kisser. Damn it.

He breaks the kiss, and I just stare at him, breathless. He looks pleased with himself, and he kisses my nose before turning away.

"I'm not too worried."

"Mhmm," I hum before sinking my next shot.

I watch Damon leisurely pull his v-neck over his head, and I wait anxiously to spy his glorious body underneath.

Wait a second, "Hey, you didn't tell me you had a tank top on underneath!"

His white wife beater stretches across his toned chest, hugging in all the right places.

"Disappointed, are we?" he asks with a smirk.

I look back to his defined torso and bite my lip, "Not particularly."

I resume my turn and sink another ball. He unzips his jeans and rolls them down. He's focused on shrugging them off his feet, while I'm focused on his tight Calvin Klein boxer briefs: charcoal grey and, like the tank, hugging in all the right places.

I feel myself literally beginning to drool, so I promptly look back to the board and shoot at my next ball before he can do anything to screw me up. The cue-ball smacks against my desired stripped one, bouncing it against the opposite wall, and landing it in the front socket. I simply stare up at Damon and give him a flirtatious wink. He smiles wickedly and ever so delicately dismisses his shirt. I gawk at the lean, beautiful man before me in almost all his glory. It really is unfair how good he looks, and out of all the adjectives I could use to describe him, only one comes to mind: dimensional.