Page 120 of Forged

Neomi gathers the cards, her movements slower now, more aware of the way both of us are watching her. The energy at the table has shifted—less playful, more charged, every glance lingering a second too long.

She shuffles with practiced ease, the soft snap of the cards the only sound in the room before she deals again.

“Try to keep up this time,” she teases, sliding the last card toward Lars.

“Yes ma’am,” he replies, picking up his hand.

I lean back, one ankle crossing over my knee as I study my cards, then flick my gaze toward him. His expression is calm, unreadable—but I know him well enough now to recognize the focus settling in.

I lay two cards down on the table in front of me. “Draw.”

Neomi smirks. “Getting nervous, Gabriel?”

“Not even a little,” I reply, taking my replacements, letting my fingers brush hers for just a second longer than necessary.

Lars sets one card down. “One.”

“Conservative,” Neomi murmurs, placing her own. “I’ll take two.”

The silence stretches as we all look at our hands, the tension building in a way that feels heavier than any noise.

“Alright,” she says finally, sitting back. “Let’s see it.”

I lay mine down first. Two pair.

Not bad—but not good enough.

Neomi follows, a slow smile curving her lips as she reveals three of a kind. “Better.”

Lars doesn’t react right away. He just sets his cards down, one at a time. A full house.

“Looks like I’m the winner,” he says, his gaze already shifting to me.

I huff out a breath, running a hand through my hair. “What are the odds?”

Lars leans back in his chair, one arm draped casually over the back, completely at ease in a way that makes the moment feel even more dangerous.

“Gabriel,” he says, his voice low, measured. “Stand up.”

It’s not a suggestion.

I hold his gaze for a second, then push to my feet slowly, setting my glass down on the table. Neomi’s eyes track the movement, her lips parting as she shifts in her seat, clearly not as neutral as she’s trying to appear.

Lars’s eyes drag over me, taking his time, assessing like he’s deciding exactly how he wants this to go.

Then he gestures lazily toward my waist.

“Your pants,” he says.

Neomi lets out a quiet breath, somewhere between surprise and anticipation.

I raise a brow. “Straight for the kill?”

He smirks. “You said you wanted as little as possible between you and us.”

Fair.

I undo my belt, lower the zipper to free my cock and push my jeans to the floor. I step out of them and keep my eyes on Lars as he licks his lower lip. Neomi shifts forward slightly, her attention locked on me now, no pretense left in it.