Sam was still standing over her, though, demanding answers. So Miko looked up at him and gave him a lazy glance. "I’m not a prisoner. This is my home. And I wanted a run, so I went for one. I kept away from the country club grounds, but it seems they are not sticking to just the grounds." When Jeremiah made a frustrated noise, she raised a hand. "I thought I was safe, but I was not. It was a stupid move, and I won’t do it again." She stood slowly from the table, eyeing both of them. "If I’m naughty again, you both have permission to spank me."
With a meaningful look at them both, she poured out her drink and left the kitchen, sashaying down the hallway. She knew she shouldn’t tease them – knew it – but the faint sound of Jeremiah’s second groan was so worth it.
Miko woke up the next morning feeling restless. She knew it was all in her head – the sensation of being crowded. She could hear her house guests talking downstairs, making themselves at home as they cooked up breakfast. How very cozy of them, she thought with a wry twist of her mouth. Add in the fact that she more or less wouldn’t be allowed to go on a run until the fox hunters were taken care of, and her skin was practically crawling with confinement. It was a feeling she hated, so she took a quick shower to clear her mind, dressed, then locked herself in her art studio. At least there she could channel all this nervous energy and make something productive.
She emerged many hours later, stomach rumbling. The sun had gone down some time ago. The artistic fervor had died away, leaving her with nothing but an empty stomach and a strangely sated mood. Drawing really did make everything better. Rubbing the graphite smell from her nose, she wandered into the kitchen.
And paused. Both men were at her kitchen table, sprawled in repose, their legs extended under the table. Empty bottles of beer decorated the table, and a few crumpled dollars lay at the center of her table. Each man held a hand of cards, and both perked up with interest at the sight of her.
"Hi," she said, feeling a little breathless at the sight of them, so relaxed in her kitchen. She could look at both of them for hours on end, just gazing at two opposite but equally beautiful pieces of masculine flesh.
"Hungry?" Jeremiah said, getting up from his chair and offering it to her. "I can make you a sandwich."
So thoughtful. They’d bought groceries for her, too? Normally she just ordered takeout. "A sandwich would be nice," she said warily. Miko watched his ass out of the corner of her eye as he bent over the fridge, pulling out bags of lunchmeat. It was tight and firm, and his pants hugged him at just the right spots.
Damn, she really needed to get laid. Distracted, she glanced over at Sam and noticed him smiling at her. He’d seen her looking at Jeremiah, and he didn’t seem to mind. Interesting. She wondered if the two had ever partnered before. The thought sent a hot flash of desire coursing through her body, and her return smile to him was wicked indeed.
"What are you boys playing?" she said, picking up Jeremiah’s facedown hand. A queen was sandwiched between a king and a jack, but the rest of his hand was garbage. She ran a finger along that queen. Lucky gal – slid between two handsome guys.
Okay, now she really needed to get laid if a hand of playing cards were making her fantasize.
"Poker," Sam said, lifting his beer and taking a swig. "Do you play?"
She laid Jeremiah’s cards back down and leaned over the table slightly, grinning at Sam as an idea struck. "Not for money."
His gaze dropped a little, watching her breasts plump as she pushed against the table. He swallowed hard. "No?"
"I’ve only played strip poker," she confessed.
Sam leaned across the table, giving her that roguish grin that made his blue eyes light up. "You interested in playing tonight?"
In the kitchen, she noticed that Jeremiah got very still, and she glanced over at him. His body radiated sexual tension, and the glance he tossed over at her was smoldering.
"Oh, I’m definitely in," she said.
Jeremiah recovered and placed the sandwich in front of her. So thoughtful – he’d even sliced it into two perfect triangles. Miko rewarded him with a beaming smile and took a bite. "Thank you." He glanced around her dining room. "You have any extra chairs?" Her small table only had two chairs – she’d been too cheap to buy more and she never used this table anyhow.
The lack of chairs did pose a bit of a problem, until another brilliant idea struck her. Miko stood, sandwich in hand, and gestured at the chair she’d just vacated. "Jeremiah, you can sit here. I’ll just sit on your lap."
She could practically hear him swallow.
The men folded the cards back into the stack, and Sam began to shuffle with expert, casual hands. She watched his hands; she liked them – strong, with thick fingers and calluses that showed he worked with his hands. She’d have bet money that Jeremiah had lean, long fingers and softer palms. He looked like a computer jockey.
Jeremiah looked reluctant, so she slid out of the seat and patted it, indicating he should sit. His dark eyes were hot upon her as he sat down, slowly sinking into the wooden chair, gaze unmoving from her face. When he’d sat in the chair, legs slightly parted as he tried to relax, she slipped one leg over his and straddled his knee, giving a slight wiggle to remind him that she was there. As if he could forget.
"Shall we play?" Miko leaned over the table, smiling. The angle would give Jeremiah a nice view of the curve of her ass and the small of her back, and she intended for it to. Even better, the move pushed her breasts against her arms and Sam’s gaze was immediately drawn there.
She was having far, far too much fun toying with the two men.
"Rules?" Sam said, his voice husky.
"We all three play," she said slowly, thinking. "Winner takes off nothing. Second place, nothing. Loser has to remove an article of clothing. Simple."
Sam dealt the cards with a faint smile on his face. Around the table he went, dealing three hands in a slow, leisurely fashion. When she had five cards in front of her, Miko picked up her hand, careful to pull it close to her chest so Jeremiah wouldn’t see it. A trash hand – five different cards, all four suits and nothing that matched. Ugh. She snuck a peek over the cards at Sam, but his face was inscrutable – that slight smile still curved his mouth.
Jeremiah shifted under her legs, her only indication that he was still there and paying attention.
Miko kept two clubs and tossed the other three down. "Three cards."
Sam dealt her three. "How many for you, Jere?"
A card slid close to her elbow. "Just one."
Damn.
She said nothing as Jeremiah picked up his new card, but his knee jiggled a little again. She wasn’t sure if that was a good jiggle or a bad jiggle.
"I’m taking two," Sam said, then discarded his and pulled two new ones. This time, he didn’t bother hiding the smile that spread across his face. His blue-eyed gaze slid back to her. "What do you have?"
She still had nothing. A pair of threes, but that wouldn’t win anything. Miko laid the cards down, face up. "I have crap. You two?"
Jeremiah leaned over her, his shoulder brushing up against her back. Prickles of awareness fluttered over her skin, and she resisted the urge to lean back against him. "I have a flush," he said in a low voice, and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her bare shoulder. With precise hands, he laid out all five cards – all hearts.
Well, that certainly beat her.
"Full house," said Sam, showing his fan of cards. Kings and deuces.
She was the big loser. Disappointment flared briefly – Miko was competitive and liked to win – but it was quickly replaced by a teasing excitement. "Guess that means I lose."