Page 119 of Double or Nothing

I grin. “Now that is a rule I can get behind.”

After that, the night moves with another beat.

Cocktails come along with shots of whisky. Bryce stops protesting every time I call for another round, which I mark down as progress. Alice beats him at blackjack and gloats so beautifully I almost kiss her right there in front of the dealer. Bryce pretends to be wounded, then wins a hand five minutes later and looks so bloody pleased with himself I nearly kiss him too.

The three of us end up tucked into one of the private lounges, all low light and velvet, with a bottle of De Chante between us. Alice has her stilettos off, one foot tucked under her, the other resting dangerously close to Bryce’s thigh. His joystick is obvious, ready for playtime under his suit trousers, but that’s been the case all night long. His balls must be aching so bad.

His bow tie is undone. Mine went missing twenty minutes ago. Some woman tugged it off in celebration when she won a hand, and didn’t give it back again.

“Cheers to freedom and fun times,” I say, raising my glass.

Bryce gives a laugh that sounds half-drunk, half-free. “You say that like it’s a religion.”

“It is.”

Alice clinks my glass. “To freedom and fun times. Bring it on.”

Bryce hesitates.

Then his glass meets ours.

“Ok, I’m in. To freedom,” he says, like something from Braveheart.

And there he is.

Not safe Bryce.

Not Bill Parker’s obedient shadow.

Ours.

For tonight, at least.

The cab back to mine is a blur of heat and hands that don’t behave in the slightest. Bryce’s joystick is free in the backseat, and Alice’s pink nipples are out of her pink satin dress in three minutes flat. Nobody apologises to the driver when he pulls up and I tell him to keep the change. Bryce is still kissing Alice when I key in the code and let us into my apartment block.

“Come on, guys,” I say. “You aren’t making out after a teenage disco. Let’s get upstairs and do it properly.”

At my place, the door barely closes before the atmosphere changes.

The casino was a long bout of foreplay in silk gloves, but upstairs it switches to something else. Something far, far dirtier, right from the depths. I watch them both straining against the filthy, needy ghosts inside themselves and feel my usual instinct rise.

Incite.

I always incite.

I always make the first move and let them follow. Coax them to push it further. Harder.

Only this time, I don’t need to.

Alice steps up to Bryce and resumes making out with him like he’s a hot prom boy, but there’s nothing teenage about it. She’s a minx all out for the kill. She takes hold of his undone bow tie and pulls him down to her mouth. Their kiss is a fresh round of fierce from the start.

Bryce reaches for me without breaking from her, grabbing my shirt and dragging me in like he’s done with pretending he has to choose which fire burns him hotter.

Our kisses are messy and breathless and alive. It’s Alice laughing against my mouth, then gasping Bryce’s name like it hurts. It’s the three of us stumbling from the living room towards the bedroom. The hallway is a battlefield. Bodies fighting for touch. Grasping. Groping. Needing.

Claiming.

The simmer of desperation is coming from somewhere other than teenage rejection this time around. Something extra that still gives me prickles below the horn. It only confirms my suspicions.