She raised her hand to her dealer, Wayne, for a short pause then swiveled in her stool to face the man beside her.

“Were you ever going to introduce yourself?”

His bold appraisal stripped her naked and pumped her with pleasure. An amused smile touched his carved lips. “Didn’t want to break your concentration. Besides, it seems we have all night, Sloane Keller.”

She raised her brow. “Perhaps. And you are?”

He seemed even more pleased at her obstinacy. “Roman Steele. You can call me Rome.”

He looks like a Rome. She imagined him dressed in armor and chains, leading an army of men with no thought to being disobeyed. Imagined him standing over the bed of a naked woman, ready to enjoy his spoils.

As the only player at the table, Wayne waited patiently for her to decide whether or not she wanted to continue. She upped the stakes. “Do you play?”

“Of course.”

“What’s your pleasure?” She dropped her voice to a husky drawl.

He bumped a hip against her chair. “Poker, of course.”

She wondered how he’d handle her. Most men she met either fawned like a groupie or treated her like shit. Since he was bought and paid for, she figured she’d test him before she made her final decision. If she didn’t like him, she’d demand her money back before they even hit the elevators. “Funny, me too. But I like a good game of blackjack to relax.”

“Are you good?”

She smiled slowly. “I’m the best.”

“Cocky, huh?”

“Confident.” She leaned forward. Her lips stopped inches from his. The sizzling tension between them stretched in exquisite agony. “Not that I mind a little−cockiness.” Her gaze lingered on his lips then dropped slowly to the evident bulge in his pants. “As long as someone can back it up.”

Smoke gray eyes heated and sharpened like lightning. “Oh, I can back it up.”

“Care to play a hand with me?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” He slid onto the stool next to her and motioned to Wayne to deal him in. “So, you in Vegas for business or pleasure?”

She watched the cards fly and leaned back in her stool, automatically searching for clues in his face to find what type of player he was. “Pleasure tonight. Business tomorrow.”

“Big tournament, huh?”

She nodded. His casual reference held no adoration or resentment. In fact, he wasn’t the least bit intimidated. A thrill shot down her spine and right between her legs, leaving her hot and wet. As the Queen of the Cards, she hit the high stakes signature poker room at the Castillo regularly. At a minimum of $20,000 to grab a seat, she believed the play integral to honing her skill in the competition of the World Series of Poker.

Two wins placed her name at the top of the charts in Vegas. Unfortunately, most men couldn’t handle the intimidation. Her last relationship bombed so badly she’d teetered on switching teams and going full lesbo. Not only was she physically hard up, it had been so long since she enjoyed an honest, open relationship she worried she’d become one of those very rich spinsters who spent their life doing things for charity. She fought a shudder at the thought.

But Rome Steele didn’t seem too afraid of her.

And, God, she needed an orgasm.

How humiliating. The tabloids stalked and publicized her exotic hook-ups. Fortunately, the press had no idea they were mostly visual candy to throw people off track. Some of her most well known escorts were only good friends or gay. The ones she attempted to actually sleep with were...disappointing. Something must be wrong with her. Her climaxes gave her barely a hiccup of pleasure. She craved a man’s body under her hands and warming her bed, so when her friend told her about Madame Eve, she decided she had nothing to lose. She did not engage in one-night stands for the risk factor. She believed in controlling all details, from her work to her play.

Pushing away her thoughts, she concentrated on her hand. Ten of clubs for her. Deuce for her one-night stand. She kept her head down and watched from the corner of her eye for every nuance of expression, and dug deep into her gut. Yes, he wasn’t a safe player. Not stupid, but he liked risk. He’d ask for a hit fifty percent of the time when he should stay. She watched the dealer flip up an ace for himself.

She tapped her finger twice on the table. The solemn face of the Queen stared up at her. She hid a smile and put out her hand in the hold gesture. Rome’s card slid across the table. Eight of hearts. A slight hesitation did him in, and his next hit revealed a six. Done.

Wayne kept his expression neutral as he dealt himself a card. Five of spades. Without a flicker of an eyelash, he hit himself again. Ten. Done.

The chips slid into her pile to match her first mound. She waited for the fake expression of awe she usually received from her dates. Instead, he treated her to a wolfish grin that promised he’d eat her for breakfast and enjoy every last bite. He grasped her wrist in a firm grip and pulled her forward so their lips were inches away.

“Nice warm up. But can you do it again?”

She laughed with sheer pleasure. “Of course.”

“Fine. Do it again and you get me for the night to do whatever you want.”

She gazed at him with suspicion. “I already did.”

“Not yet.”

Admiration cut through her. This man was not led around by his cock. Curiosity teased the question from her. “What do you get if you win?”

Determination and promise gleamed from his blue-gray eyes in warning. His voice dropped to a growl. “You, of course. But you’ll listen to everything I say without any back talk.” He paused and deliberately stared at her with the look of a warrior issuing an order. “And obey.”

She gave him an icy glare. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Her thighs clenched and her panties grew damp. Why did his commanding tone turn her on? Her nipples tightened painfully, her body on full alert, practically begging him to make good on his threat. She forced the excitement down, knowing she’d win. She always won. Still, he never backed down, and she wanted him in her bed. She licked her lips and nodded.

“Done.”

Wayne dealt the cards. The stately king of diamonds winked at her. Rome took a five. The dealer turned over a lucky seven. They moved to the face down cards.

Her senses opened up as her view narrowed to the dealer’s hands, and the cards on the table. She looked at the next card, poised for the flip, and imagined an ace. She watched the ace unfold and put her hand out to stay.

Rome took a ten. She knew the odds favored a bust. The man never even paused, just tapped the table. Six of spades. Twenty-one.

The dealer busted and they both raked in chips. Sloane glanced up at Rome and found no emotion etched on his face. Definitely a good dealer. His quick movements and stone face challenged her. Her respect nudged up a few notches. She’d dated dealers before, hoping the knowledge and shared love of the game would be a bond. Usually, they ended up pissed off at her for winning most of the time, or became clingy when she wanted to play in other casinos.

He didn’t look concerned or overly interested. They set themselves up for round two.

This time she hit twenty. Wayne held at eighteen. And her one-night stand surprised her for the second time that night.

His cards added up to sixteen. She prepared to leave the table with her winnings, cash out, and have some very good sex with her Roman warrior. Instead, he tapped the table for a hit.

If she hadn’t been so used to guarding every emotional reaction, a gasp would have escaped her lips. Why would he hit? The odds were almost impossible not to bust. Her eyes widened slightly as she waited for the card.

Six of clubs.

Blackjack.

Son of a bitch.

He pulled in his chips and turned to face her. No hint of victory marred the carved lines of his face, or the steady gleam in his eye. He said a few words to Wayne and slid some chips across the table for the tip then he stood and offered his hand. “Your room or mine?”

She blinked up at him and tried to school her features. When was the last time she lost a hand to an amateur? The glint of purpose in his ocean eyes told her he knew her thoughts. The sudden turn of events slammed into her like a launched champagne cork.

I agreed to do anything he said.

The answering thrill hit her body as fast as her mind. She grew wet and achy, ready for him to take charge. He’d won. There was nothing she respected more in another player...or in a man.

Her voice caught on the word. “Mine.”

His fingers interlaced with hers and he gently tugged her off the stool, making sure to scoop the chips into her cup. “Lead the way.”

They walked in silence to the elevators. Never spoke as the doors swooshed open on the thirty sixth floor for the Penthouse suites. She ushered him in and clicked the door behind her. He scanned the lush interior with a quick dismissal that confirmed his ease with luxury hotels. Castillo Resorts rivaled the best in Vegas, and she only stayed at the best. The gorgeous colors of the desert theme interspersed the room with a cream sectional sofa, rich cherry wood dining area, and a wet bar taking up one entire side. The oriental carpet and watercolor canvases lent an exclusive feel to the suite. The ceiling-to-floor windows gave an aerial view of the shimmering lights of Sin City during a hazy sunset.

He walked to the wall and hit the button. With expert grace, the blinds slowly closed and blocked the city from view, shrouding the room in a shadow. He took charge of her room as if he owned it, and her. A virginal shiver slid down her spine and she stood rooted to the ground in a strange mixture of fear and anticipation. He closed the distance between them with a few strides.