I wonder two things:
– how did she end up like that?
– what’s next?
Brienne crossed and recrossed her legs, trying not to let her nerves show. She still had a chance of getting out of this with her pride intact–it wasn’t like she was wearing any less than a bathing suit, really. She wouldn’t usually have a makeshift collar around her throat while lounging beside the pool, but that was just for decoration.
Of course it was.
He wasn’t a perfect card shark, she was certain, despite the fact that somehow most all the chips had ended up on his side of the table. She’d definitely held her own at the beginning, which was why he was bare-chested where he sat across from her, utterly at ease. She crossed her legs again. Dammit, was that her tell?
He dealt her card, his card, hers, his. He had an eight showing; she had a king. She peeked at the other and her heart skipped a beat: a ten. She had this one in the bag! She smiled a bit and sat back, tugging her skirt down a little. “Stay,” she said.
“Are you sure about that, Brienne?” he said.
“Come on,” she laughed, “I want to see how you win this one.”
“Easy,” he said. “You hit.”
“Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because,” he said, standing and walking to the side of the table to lean on it, “you’re wearing something of mine.”
She could feel the pulse in her throat where it met the tight strip of silk. “Mr. Jacobs–”
“Call me Sir, Brienne,” he said quietly.
His hand found the thin blade of the tie where it dangled down her back, and tugged it slightly. Brienne whole body responded to that; heat grew in her cheeks, her chest, between her legs. She bit her lip.
He held up the deck and slid the top card up a bit. “Now. What were you going to do this hand, girl?”
“Hit, Sir,” she whispered, her legs trembling against each other, hoping he’d make her lose the skirt next.