You're His Rival

Six

The cards were dealt and the next game of poker began.

Of course, you were barred from it this time because these men were bitches who didn't like their money being taken so easily. So you stood and found your way to a pool table, ready to try and shark your way into a few bucks.

Keegan had just returned from the bar with a fresh beer, the cold glass a sharp contrast against the heat of the room and his skin. The bass thudded in his chest, the lights dim and hazy, and the crowd was a moving mass of limbs and shadows.

You grabbed a pool cue and turned to find an opponent when you ran face first into Keegan's chest, "Whatever happened to personal space?" You were still irritated with him, but the alcohol was settling in and seeping it's way into your inhibitions.

He couldn't help the chuckle that burst from him. He could hear the irritation in your voice, but the flush on your cheeks and the shine in your eyes told a different story.

The alcohol was working its magic, it seemed. He watched as you straightened and met his eyes, your vision a little hazy, a little lost. God, you were beautiful.

"You're the one who ran into me," Keegan pointed out. He stepped back, giving you room to breathe, but not before his eyes trailed down to the pool cue in your hand. A grin spread across his face, a thought crossing his mind.

"You playing a game?" he asked, nodding at the pool cue. "How about we up the stakes a bit?"

The words slipped from his lips before he could think better of it. But now that they were hanging between you, he found he liked the idea. It was a chance to be near you, away from the others for a little while.

"And don't worry about personal space," he added with a smirk, that devil's grin that he used to hide his own inner turmoil. "I won't bite. Unless you ask nicely, of course."

"Shut the fuck up." You snapped only half-seriously. The flush on your face increased at the thought of him biting you anywhere. Your neck, your thighs, your bre- nope. Not finishing that thought.

Your eyes narrowed at him as you rolled his proposal around in your head, "What kind of stakes?"

He took a moment to think. He knew he was walking on thin ice here, but damn if the danger didn't make it even more exhilarating.

He shrugged, his nonchalance a careful mask hiding the thrill that shot through him at the prospect of a challenge. "You tell me. What do you think would make things interesting?"

He was leaning on the pool table behind him, his fingers absently rolling a pool ball back and forth, watching you.

The dim bar lights caught in your hair, turning it into a luminous halo, and the way your eyes held his gaze... it was visceral, defiant, and so damn intoxicating.

What did he want as stakes?

To have you pressed against him as you danced?

Or maybe to fuck you against this very pool table, forget everyone else in this bar...

Stop it, Russ.

"Do you want another round of drinks? Or..." He trailed off, the unspoken suggestion hanging in the air. And then, because he was apparently incapable of shutting up when he needed to, he added with another devilish grin, "Loser has to do whatever the winner asks."

The stakes were high, clearly.

It was a dangerous game they were playing, with no guarantee of who would end up victorious. But Keegan was a gambling man, and he was more than ready to put his chips on the table.