Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

I smirked. “Are you that confident you’ll win?”

He shrugged. “I figure if I lose, I’m sleeping here anyway. And I’d still have a shot at convincing you to stay with me. You are talking to someone who owns a pool table, after all.”

Chase’s body brushed mine as he handed over my cue, the big palm he placed on my hip burning.

“Hmm ... how about loser makes breakfast?”

His eyes lit at my suggestion, and he swayed infinitesimally closer before his competitive streak pulled him back. A smart man would think of the bigger picture and let me win. But that wasn’t Chase. Especially not with food and nakedness on the line. My cooking hadn’t made the list of things he loved about me in his letter. Chances were, even if I lost, he’d insist on cooking. From the lust in his eyes, seeing me stripped bare over the pool table would be reward enough.

“Would you like to break?”

I nodded, chalking my cue and taking my position at the table. Would he let me win? I popped my hip and arched my back as I took my shot and sank two balls on the break. I twirled my index finger in the air, then held up two fingers with a saucy grin.

Chase’s eyes widened, but he put his clothing where his mouth was. He peeled off one sock, then the other. “I’m not always this seductive. Sometimes I’m sleeping.”

I chuckled and took another shot but scratched. Even Chase’s bare feet were enough to distract me. Shaking my head in mock disappointment, I gestured to the table. He lined up his shot, then gave me a sly glance before popping his hip and arching his back as he took it. Uncontrollable laughter burst from my lips. He concentrated through my chuckles and sank two balls of his own. He mimicked my earlier finger twirl, and I shrugged as I slipped off my hoodie. Chase licked his lips and focused hard on my cherry red shirt as I reached instead for the button of my jeans, pushing them down my hips and onto the floor.

“Keeping the shirt?” he mocked.

“I don’t want to distract you too early,” I said, stepping past him in my panties and T-shirt.

I’d lied about not wearing any underwear. He glanced appreciatively down my body, and goosebumps pebbled along my legs as I shivered.

I considered the table carefully. Chase had taken the easy shots on his turn, and I was left with some unlikely angles to play. I wandered around the table, and Chase’s eyes followed every step. With no good shots to play, I took aim and managed to sink one more ball on my turn. I wiggled my brows suggestively at Chase, and he gave a brief huff of laughter before reaching for his shirt, peeling it up over his abs and spinning and tossing it with a flourish in time to the music playing in the background.

I couldn’t help but stare. A sprinkling of hair covered the musculature of his upper body. He sauntered around the table, and the muscles of his back rippled as he set up a shot. It was my turn to ad-lib. Placing the base of my pool cue on the ground and holding it upright, I took a step spin around it. “Chase, I think I mentioned that I’ve been taking dance classes?” He gave up all pretense of examining the table, focusing entirely on me instead. I could see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

His hoarse, “Yeah,” stroked my nerve endings. His throat bobbed again as he stared at me in my shirt and bikini briefs.

“My pole dancing class has been very ... empowering.” I pivot-turned with my stick. I’d maneuvered so my back was to the wall, my hand loosely grasping my pool cue like a cane. I slowly sank down against rough plaster, my head tilted back, and my legs slightly splayed.

My eyes closed softly as I sank into the music, letting my head fall into a roll before pushing off the wall with one shoulder, using my stick for balance as I strutted back toward the pool table. Chase was frozen in place watching. Confidence built over weeks of classes bloomed inside me. I owned this moment. This man.

“Maybe you can see me live sometime.”

I smiled, eyes wide and innocent.

“It’s still your turn, right? Show me what you’ve got.”

His throat bobbed once more, and I wondered if I should offer him some water. He looked ... thirsty. I was flushed, and I could feel my heartbeat steadily picking up speed. This is what I wanted. Chase. He couldn’t stop casting glances my way.

Chase turned back to the table, focusing as if his life depended on it. With diabolical intent, I started swaying with my pool cue to the music. His eyes flicked up to me, then back down to the table, and he took a deep breath before his shot. Damn. Even with epic levels of distraction, he sank one.

His eyes raised slowly from the table to my body. His glance flicked back and forth between my underwear and shirt, as if weighing the odds of which one I’d ditch. I put him out of his misery and peeled off my shirt, exposing my lacy bra. The black microfiber and scalloped lace cupped and enhanced. Chase couldn’t quite contain his groan as the tops of my breasts came into view. He stood up woodenly from the table, adjusting himself as he gestured for me to take my turn.

I walked around the table, calculating the shots available and considering my options. Chase wasn’t the only one having a hard time focusing on the game. I was aware of his eyes devouring my every move. I tried to embrace the lessons I’d learned in my dance class, moving my body with purpose and sensuality, avoiding letting myself get distracted by parts that jiggled more than I wanted. Slow. Sensual. I