Breaching His Defenses, Allyson Lindt [free e books to read .txt] 📗

keep her out of trouble. But at the same time, she didn’t have any idea what else to do.

 It was true the city looked like it never slept…sort of. She could still go gamble her heart out if she wanted, but none of the attractions were open this late. While it was interesting to wander around looking at the closed shops and all the overpriced trinkets she was sure were ninety-nine percent for show, the hands-off experience wasn’t quite the same.

A familiar flash of lights surrounding a glass box caught her attention. Her cheeks warmed at the unintentional squeal that escaped her throat. She grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the claw machine. “I love these things.”

She glanced up at him, surprised by the expression staring back. His brows were arched and his lips drawn in a thin line.

“What?” she asked.

He shrugged, and his face relaxed. “Nothing. It’s just…you know these things are a waste of money, right? The five or ten bucks you spend to win one toy would pay for everything in there?”

Wow, he was really no fun sometimes. She got his concern about the bouncers—or whatever they were—and the blackjack table, but this was different. She twisted her lips in mock irritation. “First of all, that’s not the point. Second, you’re just jealous because you don’t know how to do it right.”

“Really?” The corner of his mouth twitched with unformed amusement. “Tell me what I’m missing, then.”

She scanned the interior of the machine while she talked, looking for a viable target. “It’s not about winning, it’s about the challenge.”

“Still not getting it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels.

“Then you don’t have to play.” She plucked her wallet from her purse and rifled through the bills and coins. Disappointment that she didn’t have the right change settled inside. She tucked it all away again. She shouldn’t be wasting his time with childish games anyway. The thought jarred her. Why was she letting him dictate her schedule? “Never mind.”

He wrapped a loose hand around her arm before she could turn away. Even through her shirt, the contact sent a scorching jolt of want through her. “I’m not trying to talk you out of it.”

She shrugged. “No quarters or ones.”

He produced a leather tri-fold from his back pocket, extracted a one-dollar bill, and slid it the machine. “Two attempts.”

She should probably be more contained, but she couldn’t help her giddy rush. She kissed him on the cheek, lingering long enough to memorize the scruff of his five o’clock shadow on her lips, and then turned back to the claw machine. “Watch and learn.”

She’d located a white bear on top of the stack, as close to the middle as anything and not buried under any of the other toys. The mantra repeated in her head as she drove the claw, stick up, nudge nudge, stick right, nudge nudge, click the button… The mechanical arm dropped, clasped around the bear’s head, and lifted. Her elation was short lived when the stuffed toy slipped away and plummeted back to the mountain below.

“One more try.” Jared’s arm, shoulder to wrist, rested against her back, his warm breath caressing her neck. Her body swayed, temped to lean into him. The lingering musk of his cologne drilled into her thoughts. “Make it good.”

Ten seconds later—according to the timer on the machine—the bear dropped into the slot.

“Sometimes though, winning makes the trying that much sweeter.” She bent at the waist to retrieve it and handed it to Jared. “For you.”

He held the furry toy up by the ear, examining it from every angle with a critical eye. “I don’t think I need it.”

She looped her hand into his arm. What am I doing? He hadn’t pulled away, so he didn’t mind, did he? But it just feels right. Instead of continuing to second-guess her actions, she went with it and led him back into the thinning crowds. “It’s a gift. It doesn’t have to be practical.”

He untangled himself from her grip and seconds later rested his hand on her hip, holding her close as they walked. He continued to examine the toy in his other hand. “But what is it?”

“It’s a teddy bear.”

“What kind of teddy bear wears a beret, a black leather apron, and nothing else?”

“A BDSM bear.” She flushed as soon as the words passed her lips. I wouldn’t mind him tying me up for a while.

He paused in the middle of the walkway and spun her to face him. The sparse foot traffic cut a path around them He stood toe to toe with her, blue eyes searching her face. “A bondage bear, really?”

“What? An apron, nothing on underneath, that’s sexy.” Her skin heated, and she couldn’t pull her gaze from his. He was still studying her. “What?”

“You know what’s sexy?” He smiled, dipped his head, and traced his lips along the edge of her ear.

That was an intoxicating sensation. Too many things were easy with him. A pleasant chill raced through her, and she slid along his frame him with a, “Hmm?”

He dropped his empty hand to her hip. “Watching you lose yourself in whatever you’re doing, seeing how genuine your joy is, and…” He trailed a finger down to her ass. “Knowing you’re not wearing anything under your skirt.”

Her breath hitched, and any witty response she might have had died in the back of her throat. Fun to intense in a millisecond. She couldn’t code for response times that fast. Not that she was complaining. “I think you’re trying to change the subject.”

He stepped back, intertwined his fingers in hers again, and tugged her into step beside him, a serious note sliding into his voice. “You’re right, I’m sorry. We’re talking about the bear, aren’t we? Is she into spanking, or does she prefer being tied up?”

He was one of the only people she’d ever met who didn’t seem to recoil at how blunt she was, and was just as outspoken on top of that. Something about that was so damn appealing. “First of all, who said it was a she? And second, it’s hard to tell by just looking. I have a feeling he’s open to exploration. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

He half glanced in her direction, brows raised, before turning away again. “You’re still talking about the bear, right?”

“Of course I am.” Was she? She hadn’t meant to imply anything with her statement, but now the idea was there—the implication this might be about the two of them—it made her curious whether or not her unwitting observation was correct. She drifted closer as they wandered, resting some of her weight against his arm. Heat flowed between them and taunted her with promises of something she knew wasn’t hers.

As they wandered farther from the casino, the chatter and bells faded into the background. The half-lit, mall-like environment closed in around them. If she stretched her imagination just a few inches, it was easy to believe there was no world outside this place of fake pillars and painted-on skies.

“Have you rescued a lot of these poor, unexplored souls from claw machines?” His voice dropped in volume, adding to the surreal feeling of pleasant isolation.

The only issue she saw with their journey was eventually they’d run out of walkway. A soft glow broke the dim lighting ahead. Espresso. Perfect. She leaned into him enough to change their trajectory and memorized the sensation of her head on his shoulder. “Not as many as you might think. The odds on those things can be fixed. The claws made to not consistently grab as tightly. Typically only about in ten quarters wins, regardless of how good someone is.”

“Now we really are talking about the bear. If you know the odds, why do you still play? You were pretty diligent about securing your odds at the blackjack table.”

She scanned the menu on the small cart and reached for her wallet. For someone so bright, he sure had a hard time with some concepts. “Because with the blackjack I wanted to see if I could do it, not because of the need to win. Once again, it’s not about the outcome, it’s about how you get there.”

“Journey versus destination. Right.” He rested a hand on her arm. “Which is why you’re drinking, what, caramel mocha with extra whipped cream at almost midnight?”

“Americano, skim milk. It’s way too late for that much sugar.” She knew it sounded ridiculous. She’d been told so on several occasions and didn’t care. The caffeine didn’t keep her awake, and she enjoyed the flavor.

“Of course. Let me get this.” He stepped up to the cashier before she could protest.

A moment later, he returned with a paper cup, steam escaping from the top, and a bottle of water. He handed her the coffee, rested his hand on her back, and guided her to a table half in the shadows.

He held her chair out for her. She’d never had someone do that before. It heated her inside almost as much as the brush of his fingers along the back of her hand as he took the seat next to her.

She held up the drink. “Thank you for this.”

He gave her a look she couldn’t interpret, brows furrowed and a question in his eyes, before his expression shifted to something more neutral. “It’s not quite as grand a gesture as rescuing me from singing a duet alone, but it’s a start.”

The reminder tickled her amusement and brought back a flood of warmth from the shared time on stage. “Another thing I’m glad I did. I got at least as much out of the evening as you. You don’t actually owe me anything.”

“I do.” He leaned forward, water ignored, and focused on her. “It’s a nice philosophy, but as life goes on, you’ll find it gets harder to ignore the final outcome in favor of living in the now.”

Some of her euphoria squished out around the implication she was too young to know better. Payton had drilled that point home over and over again—that she didn’t have enough life experience to have an opinion on anything if she disagreed with him. “I’m not naïve just because I’m not as old as you. Some of us learned early on not to let life break us.”

He leaned back, eyes wide. “I’m not broken.”

She tried to swallow back her indignation. Things had been fun and lighthearted just seconds ago, and now she’d let something get to her. Problem was, it stung too much to ignore. Did he really think she was a child? “And I’m not stupid.”