19. Gavin

NINETEEN

gavin

THERE WAS NO doubt in my mind where Daire had been headed when he left Luxe. He would’ve gone underground, beaten up a few guys, and come home in the early-morning hours with bruised knuckles.

After that epic confrontation with his mother—something I was still reeling from witnessing—it was understandable Daire would want to blow off some steam. I couldn’t even blame him for wanting to hit something, so I took him somewhere he could do just that.

He brought what was left of his cigarette to his lips and stared up at the sign over the door we’d stopped in front of. Shaking his head, he blew out a stream of smoke, but all I could focus on was his mouth—the way it pursed as the clouds of smoke curled up and into the night, and the way his tongue dipped out to wet his lips.

“A pool hall? This is where you wanna blow off steam?” he said.

“And kick some ass. Don’t forget that part.”

As I pulled open the door, Daire stayed right where he was, like he was debating whether to go in or tell me to screw off. But then he sighed and put out his cigarette on the bottom of his boot before heading inside the busy pool hall.

This wasn’t the kind of place Daire went to often, that was for sure. I’d been to most of them throughout the city, though I’d had to change up the locations often. Regulars weren’t fond of pool sharks.

“We already know how this is gonna end,” Daire said as we both scoped out the scene.

I smirked. “Admitting defeat already?”

“This is the only place you can kick my ass, and you know it.”

“True. But I don’t plan to kick yours tonight.” When Daire lifted a brow in question, I nodded toward a table of two guys already playing. “We’ll be kicking theirs.”

Daire followed my stare, and as we watched them take their shots, I filed away what I could see as our future opponents’ strengths and weaknesses. Although once they got a look at me, I doubted they’d see me as a threat. For some reason, most didn’t until it was too late. Donovan called it my “angel effect,” that because I had what he deemed a sweet innocence about me, it was easy to catch others off guard. So I did what anyone in my position would—I played into it. And won a shit-ton of money every time I did.

“A couple of beers,” I told the bartender, and had to put my hand over Daire’s mouth before he could protest.

Once the bartender walked off to grab our order, I lowered my hand, and Daire cursed.

“A beer? You don’t even drink those.”

“I don’t?” He was right, but it was the fact that he’d noticed that sent a flutter through my chest.

“No. You don’t. And neither do I.”

“We do tonight. Trust me.”

As the bartender dropped off our beers and uncapped them, I slid some cash across the bar.

Daire was looking at the bottle as though it were full of piss. “Care to fill me in on whatever’s goin’ on in your head?”

I forced myself to take a sip of the beer without making a face. “First, we’ve both already had a few drinks, and we don’t need to get sloppy. Second, holding a beer makes us nonthreatening—” I stopped and realized whom I was talking to. “Well, makes me less of a threat, and you need all the help you can get, you scary bastard.”

I swore I almost saw Daire crack a smile at that, but if he had, it was gone quickly.

“Once they see you make your first shot, they’ll be onto you.”

“Maybe. Or maybe I’ll just have some help from a better player.” I shrugged. “Someone to show me the ropes. I might just have beginner’s luck.”

Daire snorted and shook his head. “Never would’ve taken you for a hustler.”

“I guess there’s a lot we don’t know about each other,” I said, twisting to face him. Part of me stirred at getting to show Daire a side of me he hadn’t seen, showing him something I was good at. All he’d seen me as lately was a victim, and that’s not who I was. Not by a long shot.

Another reason I didn’t need another, stronger drink? Because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to resist trying for another kiss if I had more alcohol in me. Right now, we just needed to reset our friendship and have a good time. Not the easiest thing to do when all I seemed to notice now was how dangerously attractive Daire was. How had I never noticed it before?

Oh, right. The perpetual scowl that warned everyone off, not to mention his oh-so-friendly demeanor. But I’d gotten a glimpse of what lay behind the mask, and it was too intriguing to forget.

“For this to work, I’m gonna need you to play along,” I said. “Whatever I say, just go with it.”

“Do I look like someone who follows?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll let you lead in other ways.”

It wasn’t often I surprised Daire, but I saw the quick flare of his nostrils, and there it was again. The heat between us sparking, but not yet igniting.

He took a long swig of his beer, barely masking his disgust, and then nodded toward the tables. “Let’s go fuck with these assholes.”

I grinned and tapped my bottle against his, and then let him lead us to the table.

“You two almost done?” Daire said to the guys as one called out the left corner pocket to make his final shot.

“No,” the one bent over the table said, and then aimed true, pocketing the eightball. He stood up and looked us over with an assessing gaze. “You can join the next round if you’ve got the cash.”

Pretending to frown, I tugged on Daire’s arm and said loud enough for them to hear, “What does that mean? We have to play for money?”

“You’re catching on.” The guy smirked, adjusting his backward ball cap. “That a problem?”

“We were hoping for our own table,” Daire said coolly, crossing his arms as I fidgeted with the sleeve of my shirt.

“That’s too bad. Not a free table around here for the rest of the night.”

Daire looked down at me, and I made a show of biting down on my lower lip nervously.

“I want to play, but—” I started, and Daire cut me off.

“Then we’re in,” he told the guy, who was grinning like he’d just won the lottery.

“Good. We’ll start at”—he glanced at his friend, who leaned in to whisper something in his ear—“five hundred.”

I blanched, playing my part. “Dollars?”

The guy shrugged. “If you can’t handle it⁠—”

“We can handle it,” Daire said, and I wanted to laugh at how easily they were falling into our trap. Five hundred bucks for what we were going to sweep in a matter of minutes? Hell yes.

After peeling off a few bills and slapping them on the edge of the table, Daire grabbed a couple of cue sticks off the wall. He handed one to me, and I followed his lead by chalking up the tip.

After introductions—the guy in the hat was Dale, and his friend was something I couldn’t pronounce and decided to rename as Chip in my head—Dale racked up the balls.

“Tell you what,” he said, “we’ll let you break first.”

“You can do that,” I muttered, sticking close to Daire’s side.

He shook his head and pushed me toward the head of the table. “You have to learn sometime.”

“But—”

“Just do it like I showed you.” Daire moved in beside me, so close I could feel the heat of his body through his clothes and had to suppress a shiver. He moved one of my hands up the cue and reached around me to position the other near the bottom.

Holy shit. I’d never been so surrounded by him before, not even when he’d kissed me. It was all I could do to keep playing my part when all I wanted to do was sink into him.

“Now bend over.” His breath was warm on my neck as I followed along and tried not to take his words out of the context he meant them in. “Aim hard and fast.”

I nodded, and the warmth of him left me as he moved aside to let me break. I centered the cue ball, letting my hand slip so it rolled out of my grasp.

Chip and Dale didn’t bother hiding their chuckles as I scrambled to grab the ball and put it back in place. Glancing over my shoulder at Daire like I needed the support, he winked at me—fucking winked at me—and I turned off the role I’d been playing and easily slipped into one I knew I did well.

My first shot slammed the cue ball into the others, breaking them swiftly and sending several into pockets.

“Oh fuck,” I heard one of the guys say, but I ignored them as I zeroed in on my next shot.

And then my next.

And my next.

I swept the table without letting them take a shot, and when I landed the eightball in a center pocket, I straightened and smiled at their shocked faces. Then I scooped up the money and fanned my face.

“Five hundred, was it?”

Chip—no, that one was Dale—looked at the empty table, humiliation and anger replacing the initial outrage as he turned back to me. The realization he’d just been taken hit him like a swift uppercut to the jaw.

Huh, would you look at that? It seemed all this time spent around Daire had me thinking like him.

“You played us,” Dale said, narrowing his eyes.

“Technically, I didn’t play anyone.” I leaned against the table. “I’m just that good.”

“You’re a fucking cheat.” Chip stepped up beside his buddy, balling his hands into fists by his sides, and this was usually the part where I cut and run. As soon as I sank the eightball and pocketed the cash.

But I figured with Daire standing watch, I’d take a second to enjoy my moment in the spotlight.

“I didn’t cheat.”

Dale threw his pool cue on the table. “Then what would you call it?”

“Reading the room. You sized me up as someone you could beat. I sized you up as wrong.”

“You hustled us. You’re a shark.”

“You held the table ransom for five hundred. I just freed the hostage.”

Dale stepped toward me all but vibrating with fury, and before I could blink, Daire was in front of me, the discarded pool stick in his hand, the tip of it under Dale’s chin.

“Take another step and I’ll shove this thing so far up your ass you’ll be using chalk as a Chapstick.”

My eyes widened at the threat, but I couldn’t help but think how hot it was to have Daire defending me. Like super hot.

“Fuck you and your little blond bitch.”

An ominous growl rumbled out of Daire, and I quickly sprang into action, reaching for his arm.

“D, stop. It’s just a game.”

I tugged on his shirt, hoping to get through to him before this turned into an aboveground fight club. That was the last thing I wanted.

“Let’s just go,” I said. Daire looked down at where my hand rested on his arm, and I squeezed. “Please?”

He grunted and threw the pool stick aside, reaching for my hand.

Dairewas holding my hand.

My breath caught as our fingers touched, and it was as if the entire world vanished and we were the only two there. The heat from his hand raced up my arm and infused my whole body. He tightened his grip and led me away from the table, away from danger, then pushed out onto the busy street.

The bustling sounds of the city were immediate as the doors swung shut behind us. Cars sped by and horns honked, but it was my thumping heart that filled my ears as Daire’s palm rubbed up against mine. The rush from minutes ago pulsed through my body as he pulled me into the alley that ran up the side of the pool hall.

What a fucking trip.

I felt high as a kite.

It was always fun outsmarting cocky assholes at the pool table, but tonight was a whole different kind of rush that had very little to do with hustling and everything to do with the man staring down at me as though I’d lost my damn mind.

“Are you crazy?” Daire ran an agitated hand through his hair, and I figured I must’ve been, because the more time I spent with him, the more I…wanted him. “How often do you do this?”

I was about to answer when Daire shook his head.

“You know what? It doesn’t matter. You’re not doing it anymore.”

“Excuse me?” I straightened against the brick wall, my high suddenly plummeting to earth like a plane that had lost its engines. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“The hell I don’t.” Daire took a step forward. “What would’ve happened if I hadn’t been there?”

I angled my chin up, ready to defend myself to the bitter end. It’d been hot having Daire step in and defend me, but that didn’t mean I’d needed him to.

“I would’ve left as soon as I won. Just like I usually do. I’m quite capable of looking after myself.”

“Yeah, that’s super fucking obvious.”

I let out a frustrated sigh and ground my teeth together. “Can you, for once, maybe stop thinking about me like I’m some pathetic kid who needs you to protect him?”

Daire slapped his hands up against the bricks by my head. “Trust me, that’s the last fucking thing I’m thinking.”

Something in his voice set my heart racing again, and the frustration from his patronizing comments switched to frustration of a different kind. This push and pull between us created a whole lot of friction. The kind that would spark and ignite if we were brave enough to let it.

“Then what are you thinking?”

Daire blinked, his eyes zeroing in on my mouth before flicking back up to mine. “Nothing good.”

I searched his harsh features, the stern line of his lips and his granite-like jaw. The stubble that shadowed it and the dark brows that hooded his eyes.

Daire was a walking billboard for heartache. A danger sign if there’d ever been one. But that didn’t stop me from putting my hands on his chest, or gathering all the courage I could.

It also didn’t stop me from saying, “Maybe it would be better than good.”

And before I could talk myself out of it, I leaned forward to brush my lips over his.

It was like something from a movie. The pool hall hustle, the rescue, the fight between lovers, and now the kiss. Except the second my mouth swept over the top of his, Daire yanked his head back and gripped my wrists.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“I…” My words stuttered to a stop as he released my hands and stepped away from me.

“I told you I didn’t want that.”

Did he? That wasn’t how I remembered it. He’d said he wouldn’t be stupid enough to kiss me again. Not that he didn’t want to.

“Okay, if that’s what you want.”

“It is.” Daire shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans as though he didn’t trust himself. “We should go.”

I looked out to the busy street he was staring at as though it was his only escape route. “Fine, let’s go.”

Daire’s jaw twitched at my easy acquiescence, but I wasn’t about to argue with him and let him ruin my night. We’d had fun in there. For a few minutes he’d even stopped treating me like something fragile, and instead treated me like he might a…date. He’d winked at me and held my hand, and just now, I could’ve sworn he wanted to kiss me.

Why did he keep denying himself something he wanted as badly as I did? Did he somehow think he was taking advantage of me? Maybe I needed to be more obvious. Maybe if he knew I wanted him then he’d finally admit he felt the same way back.

Hmm, now that was an idea. I could show him how much I wanted him.

Yes, that was perfect.

#OperationTortureDaire was now underway.