Page 35 of Mason: His to Convince

“As you can see honey, you've already taken everything I have.”

“Not everything,” she whispered, sitting back down before she fell down and tearing her eyes away from the sight of him.

Confusion was the only emotion his mind was capable of registering right now and he walked back to the table, slipping his jeans on but not fastening them. Turning his chair around Mason straddled it, watching her closely.

“What are the stakes?”

“Well,” she began, wetting her lips and shuffling the cards, not looking at him. “We play one more hand. If you win I'll marry you and ...”

“Are you out of your mind?” he roared, almost knocking the chair over as he sprang to his feet and leaned across the table, so close to her their breaths mingled. “You don't decide something that important on a hand of cards,” he ground out.

“Wait, you haven't heard me out,” she shot back tipping her chair on two legs to give her some space. “I think it's a fine idea and besides you haven't heard your forfeit if you lose.”

Mason sat back down with a thud.

“I can't believe this,” he growled out. “All right Miss Smarty-Pants. Let's hear the rest of it.”

“If you lose,” she breathed, urgency in her voice. “We go into the bedroom and make love all night.”

“Now there's a hardship,” he spat back, raking a hand through his hair.

“Look, it's a way to settle things—that is if you still want to marry me.”

“You don't want to know what I want right now,” he all but shouted. Mason looked at her closely. Comprehension dawning.

“I get it. You've been on a winning streak and you figure it might last. If I lose you get what you've wanted all along, a physical relationship with no strings attached, and if you lose you can always cry off later.”

“No Mason. If I lose I'll keep my promise.”

“That you'll marry me?” he snorted derisively. “When in five years?”

“No! I’ll marry you whenever you want.”

“Boy lady, you want it bad,” he drawled sarcastically.

Rebecca almost backed out. His attitude wasn't what she'd expected and she felt the first fissure of fear, fear that he'd win…fear she’d win. She wasn’t sure.

Mason snapped the chair down to four legs.

“Deal.”

Her hands shook as she shuffled. Twice she dropped cards and had to start over.

“Having second thoughts, honey?” he drawled softly, an unholy gleam in his eyes.

“No, just a little nervous,” she answered.

“You should be,” was his reply.

Rebecca dealt the cards and held her breath looking at her royal flush of hearts in awe.

Mason scowled and lay down his hand. Two pair.

Rebecca weighed her options. If she showed her hand she would spend an incredible night in Mason’s arms. If she folded…a lifetime. She folded.

* * *

Rebecca was not a happy camper when the sun streamed in through the bedroom window. A glance at the clock told her it was still early and the one thing she wanted to do most at the moment was sleep.