Page 113 of The Bodyguard's Fall

“Oh, I’ll get cake.” He smiled.

“What’s the catch?”

“The loser has to feed the other person.”

I stilled as visions of Tate spoon-feeding me cake left me feeling slightly breathless. Unless, of course… that never happened.

“How good are you at speed?” I asked, suddenly curious about his card shark abilities. I’d only played Luke.

He began dealing the cards. “You worried you’ll be feeding me cake all night?”

My stomach lurched. Or I could be feeding him. I hadn’t thought about that one. I wasn’t sure which would be worse on me. Probably whatever version means I don’t get to eat the cake.

“Are you sure you want to watch me eat cake all night?”

He laughed, picking up five cards for his hand and organizing the cards we’d both be utilizing on the table. “I can think of worse things.” He motioned toward the stack of cards sitting in front of me. “Quit stalling, Walker.”

My hand paused over my cards.

I looked to see him watching me, his gaze steady and searching, like he was gauging my reaction.

“You just called me Walker,” I said.

“Did I?” His brow furrowed, but there was humor in his gaze.

“Pretty bold move for a temporary husband,” I said, my breath caught in my chest.

“Just thought I’d try it out.”

It was the low rumble of his voice that had goosebumps breaking out onto my skin. Thankfully, he took pity on me and, with some amusement, nodded toward my cards.

“You ready?”

It took some time before I could lose myself in the game. My thoughts were completely scattered. Across the table from me, Tate seemed as focused as ever. Speed wasn’t a game for slow players. You had to be quick to lay down your cards. Tate’s ability to focus under pressure was a shining star right now.

When he had only two cards left to get rid of before he won the game, I resorted to other measures.

“For someone who hates delicious cake flavors, you’re sure trying hard to win.”

He shook his head. “Nah. I haven’t been trying hard at all.”

I laughed, stepping on his toe beneath the table. He dodged my advances and trapped both of my feet beneath his, warming my bare toes and sending waves of heat up my spine.

And then he kept them there for the next play.

So, basically, he was ruthless. When we started up again, his last two cards were played before I could blink.

“I won,” he said proudly, handing me a fork. “I might have to amend my flavor bashing. This could be the best cake I’ve ever had.”

I forked out a big piece of the middle, the white vanilla cake infused with cream cheese frosting and strawberries, and I looked at him, somewhat cheerily.

He saw it in my eyes before I could put my plan into action.

“And if that cake goes anywhere but in my mouth, you have to clean it up.” A smile lit his face as I gathered his meaning.

A laugh bubbled out of me as I leaned closer, lifting the cake toward his lips, trying hard not to overthink my actions, but his eyes were on mine, and it was making my movements shaky.

Or maybe it was him.