Bared by Him (3 page)

Her smile felt tight on her face, but the sight of him so close provoked some odd
sensations inside of her, and she had trouble speaking. Her physical reactions to
him astounded her.

Her insides had seized with his presence, and as they finally unwound, everything
resumed at a frantic pace. Her heartbeat, her lung expansion, the blood shooting in
torrents down her veins.

He was big, at least six foot three, and he was dark as sin. Everything about him
was dark as sin, except the lightness of those eyes, with those dark pupils, watching
her with a burning thirst that opened up some unknown carnal impulses within her.

“Or were you planning to move to Iceland?” He stepped aside with a cock of his dark
head.

She tried to enter rather breezily and with confidence, which was really hard with
all the layers she was wearing. Especially considering she was going to spend the
next hours with a very pissed off, possible donor, whom she could
not
flip off again if she wanted to help her foundation. “I’m very sensitive to air-conditioning,”
she said lightly.

“No shit you are, lady.”

He closed the door behind her, and she was surprised to see that his apartment was
rather cozy and not as intimidating as the man. It wasn’t over-the-top, one of the
money traps she’d heard many millionaires tended to fall into once they had dollars
coming out of their ears. No. Cade’s place was manly and tasteful, with incredible
views of the city, and furniture that was strikingly simple but also … large and thick.
Dark woods. Chunky sofas. All done in chocolate and navy, which blended beautifully
with the maple wood floor.

All of a sudden, she heard the click of nails on the hardwood floor, and a huge beastly
dog appeared down a hall. It was as obsidian in color and frightening as its owner,
and its ears and tail pricked in alarm when it spotted her.

“Don’t even think about it,” Cade growled. “Sit!”

The dog sat, but its ears were still up at attention. Ivy stared at it, strangely
compelled by the creature. “What’s it called?”

“His name is Genghis.”

“Is he dangerous?”

“Not if I’m here,” Cade grumbled, and when he patted the dog with his big hands, some
jealous sensation gripped inside her stomach as she wondered what it felt like. “He’s
a pound dog, but he used to be a fighting dog so he’s … a little rough around the
edges.”

Ivy watched as he murmured to Genghis to be at ease, deliciously caught by the gentleness
with which he spoke to the dog. She’d seen Cade West before his wife died. She’d glimpsed
what lay beneath all that raw anger back then, and now she wasn’t even surprised that
he would have rescued an angry dog from the pound. Or that he touched the animal with
those gentle, big hands, and spoke to him with almost … affection.

Alarmed by the way this moved her, she started when he spoke behind her. His voice
was soft. As soft as the one he’d used on the tamed dog. Filling her with goose bumps
as she heard it near her ear. “Can I take your coat?”

She recovered fast and took a safety step away from him with a real smile. “Nice try,
mister.”

He scowled darkly and signaled at her. “You can’t seriously expect to stay in all
that? Hell, that’s not even fair to the Eskimo you got it from. And what the hell
are these? Three scarves?”

He lifted them up to his somber scrutiny, and she nodded and watched them flutter
back down.

“You can barely move in there. How many damned sweaters are you wearing?”

His intense scrutiny made her oddly aware of her nipples, her sex, her tongue, her
fingers. “Two,” she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed that she was so obviously afraid
of losing to him.

“And beneath the damned sweaters?”

“Two … camisoles.”

His glimmering gray eyes raked her, and she felt naked even with all these layers.

“So you’re wearing three scarves, two sweaters, two camisoles, a double padded ski
jacket.… how many pants?” His voice dropped on the word “pants,” and she was sweating
even harder, nervous already. She only wore one skirt and damned if she shouldn’t
have worn pants under it, too. “Well, Ivy?”

Her name on his mouth sent a strange little tremor through her. She shook her head
and pushed her loose hair behind her shoulders in a restless gesture. “Maybe you’ll
find out, maybe you won’t. Where do you want to do this, then?”

He gestured to the hall where Genghis had appeared moments ago. “Just so you know,”
he said, his voice deep and sensual, “I’m going to strip you without even setting
a finger on you. I’ll get you down to your panties in less than half an hour.”

“I’ll be the one stripping you of both your clothes
and
your money.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “You’re sure welcome to try.”

The sound of his laugh unnerved her, and she felt her nipples poke into her bra as
he seized her and guided her to the wide carpet that stretched across his living room.
She settled down on the carpet rather than at the table, then watched as he went to
the kitchen. She could hear him running water, washing his hands, before he came out
with two cups of coffee and a bowl of assorted dark chocolates. The brief contact
of his hand as he passed her a cup made her skin tingle all the way to her toes.

“I assume that, like me, you’d rather stay sharp and pass on the alcohol?”

He settled down on the carpet a few feet across from her, and Ivy couldn’t resist
popping in a chocolate truffle that melted in her mouth. She almost moaned as she
swallowed, nodding at his words. His eyes seemed not to miss the pleasure in her expression,
and his pupils went blacker as he watched her.

His voice dropped a decibel. “All right then, let’s do this. Care to shuffle, or do
you want me to?”

His voice was firm, but rough around the edges, and his lashes dark and thick, framing
those brilliant pale eyes that were a vibrant contrast to the tan of his skin. Those
eyes watched her like his dog watched her from the far end corner; without an ounce
of trust and like she might make an appetizing dinner.

The dog’s gaze didn’t alarm her; but the way her insides heated at the man’s gaze
did.

“You do it,” she whispered, looking away so she could remember the rules in her head.
They both had to put money on an opening bet, and if he raised it, she would have
to bet more. She started by placing one of her scarves in the center. He placed a
part of his blue chips.

“How much are they worth?”

“A hundred thousand each.”

She hoped he didn’t notice that she almost choked on her breath, for how could any
scarf be worth that? Her heart pounded as he leaned back and expertly shuffled the
cards with one hand.

“In fairness to you, I will open and raise you with money, and only discard an article
of clothing if I lose.”

She nodded, grateful that she would not be the only near-naked person in the room.
Maybe he wasn’t such a hopeless case after all.

The game began … and after the first few rounds, Ivy had removed her three scarves
and one of her sweaters, while he’d only removed his belt.

The next opening bet, she had to remove her second sweater, hating that his stack
of chips was still almost full, and Ivy was getting more and more naked.

“Deal me some good cards, Mr. West, or I’ll think you’re cheating over there.”

He cocked a brow and dealt their hands, sliding her five cards over the carpet, closer
to her. “We’re playing strip poker. We were past Mr. West three scarves ago. Unless
you have a problem with my name?”

“I don’t have a problem with your name. Only your attitude.”

His eyebrows rose. “Didn’t they explain to you how to kiss ass in charity school?”

She stared at her cards. “I think that right now, you want to see me naked as much
as I want your donation, Mr. West.”

“Cade.”

“Cade.”

“Try it without the sarcasm, darling.”

She lifted her eyes to his. “When you call me Ivy, without the sarcasm.”

“Ivy. Ivy.
… Ivy
.”

She almost shuddered at the triple dose of sensuality he managed to infuse into her
short name, almost liquefying by the third time he murmured it. Acutely aware of her
vagina aching under her panties, she looked back at her hand, her pulse accelerating.
The atmosphere was intimate. Only a few lamps were flicked on, and the sun had just
set in the distance. Outside, the city began to come alive with lights.

Discomfortingly aware of the sound of his breathing, slow and deep, especially when
compared to the sound of hers, which was much faster, Ivy changed three of her cards
and was delighted to end up with a flush.

Cade had only a pair of Jacks.

He cocked a brow and dropped his hands to his shirt, pulling it off with a hard yank
that made every muscle beneath it ripple.

Her breath stalled at the sight of his naked chest. His arms were corded and with
every possible muscle perfectly delineated. A thin line of hair formed below his navel
and traveled beneath the band of his jeans. His abs were ripped, every square of him.
Her gaze traveled upward again, to his face, to those kissable lips, those angry eyebrows,
that silken sable hair, and those high cheekbones and that square jaw.

He was smiling, really smiling for the first time in this whole nerve-racking night,
and the sight gripped her gut and squeezed tight. It was a good look on him. A really
good look on him, unfortunately.

“You’re going to go home and dream about me now, aren’t you, Ivy?”

Those unnaturally pale eyes were glowing with challenge. They filled her with images
of them, having angry sex together.

“It would be a nightmare.”

“More like a fantasy.”

“You’re arrogant.”

“I’m right.”

He picked up the pile of cards and dealt again in silence. He exchanged two cards,
while Ivy exchanged four. He nodded at the cards she held to her chest like miniature
shields, for she felt already naked in her camisole and skirt. “Show me your game
and I’ll show you mine.”

Heart pounding, she lowered her cards. She wasn’t sure what she feared most: if she
was more afraid of taking off her knee-length skirt and remaining in a cami and underwear,
or of him taking off his pants and showing her more of his sinful body.

His body had been made to perfection. He had a male body to drool over, fantasize
over, and lose your ever loving mind over.

She forced her eyes down at their cards. Cade had a full house of eights. Ivy had
a pair of Kings.

Shit.

Bye-bye skirt.

With a smug smile on his face, Cade leaned back and watched her take off her skirt.
Her cheeks itched with heat as she stood, and her hair fell to cover her face as she
unzipped and bent to sashay the material off her hips. A strange edginess swamped
her as she kicked it off to the side, searching deep inside her for courage before
she faced him.

His smug smile was gone.

His eyes shone with a light that was almost unholy, and it robbed her of her breath
as he surveyed her legs, her panties-covered hips, those eerie eyes raking her top
to bottom, bottom to top. When his gaze trekked back north yet again and latched onto
hers, there was a crackling energy in the room so powerful Ivy almost felt electrified.

His chest rose and fell evenly, but the pale gray of his eyes had shifted by degrees,
and now they glowed silver.

When he spoke, his voice rasped over her like sandpaper. “Do you want to deal, or
do you want me to?”

Ivy swallowed and looked down at herself, all those layers of clothing gone—lying
in a puddle at her side. She only had her camisole to open her bet with. A strange
vulnerable feeling trembled through her, and she just did not have the courage to
stand before this man, before those eyes, in her underwear. She sat back down and
tugged at the thin fabric, having to swallow before speaking. “This doesn’t come off.”

He didn’t smile smugly, like she expected. His face was tight, almost glaring again,
as though his grumpiness was her fault. Everything wrong about his life, her fault.
“Well then, I guess I won,” he said in that coarse voice of his.

Panic grabbed her. “No. I … I’ll bet something else as opening bet. I’m not quitting
yet.”

His dark black eyebrows drew low over his eyes, eyes that narrowed into glimmering
slits. “Bet me a kiss, then,” he said. “And I’ll call it with everything I have.”

She held his challenging gaze, aware that the crackle was magnifying, making her heart
pound. They sat there, caught in something without a name, his eyes wild and desperate,
Ivy’s rising hunger gnawing her on the inside.

“Come here,” he whispered.

It was as if lightning coursed through her at his words. She had a heightened awareness
of every part of her body that his eyes touched, and it made her tremble.

“Come here, Ivy,” he whispered, his voice gruffer.

She rose to her hands and knees and crawled unsteadily toward him, stopping a couple
of inches away. He was breathing fast as he reached up with a big hand and scraped
a finger over her jaw. When he cupped her entire cheek, engulfing it in his warm palm,
Ivy’s lungs became paralyzed. Suddenly his free hand curled slowly around a piece
of her camisole and dragged her a couple of inches closer, and fire licked painfully
through her insides.

She shuddered as his fingers slid from her jaw to the back of her head, while he continued
pulling her by the camisole. A tremor began in her very center, hot and strong, rendering
her helpless against his magnetic force, tugging her forward until she stopped a hairsbreadth
from his mouth. He was surprisingly gentle with the hand on her nape, but his grip
on her camisole was firm. He tightened it harder as he lowered his head, their noses
brushing.

Her throat closed with need; she was attracted to every inch of him.