Out of Aces by Stephanie Guerra Read Free Book Online

it a handicap.” She was obviously very pleased with herself, which made me even more determined to win. Unfortunately, Lady Luck was with the freak in five layers. I couldn’t get a break: treys, deuces, not a single face card. Nothing higher than three of a kind, four hands running. By round four, I was down to my boxers, because all I’d started out with was a shirt, pants, and my watch. Meanwhile, all she’d lost were the sungla sses.
    “I want to eat your abs with a little, tiny spoon,” she said, eyeing my six-pack. I looked down. I did look ripped. Eating on the cheap plus a few eight-hour shifts as a bar slave had tightened me up.
    “Feel free.” I held out my arms. To my surprise, she put down her cards, took the underwear off her head, and moved closer. She pushed me down gently and started kissing and biting my stomach. “Lower,” I said.
    She went about an inch lower, nibb ling.
    “Lo wer!”
    Now she was at my waist, and things were getting ser ious.
    “Lower!” Will this work?
    She pulled back, flushed. “I’d really like to .  . .”
    I squeezed my eyes closed and smacked my chest. “Nooooo fair!” I ho wled.
    “Sorry,” she whispered. And then we both started laughing, until we were shaking and rolling and pounding the floor. Tears squeezed out the corners of my eyes.
    “We’re in Vegas. We should just run away and get married so you can quit with the waiting thing,” I gasped. Because Irina was religious, she was waiting until she was married. Long story. But I dealt with it because . . . well, because I was whi pped.
    “I wish!” She gig gled.
    I rolled to my side and grabbed her hand. “Why not? We could get married by El vis.”
    Irina’s eyebrows popped up. “You’re kidding, ri ght?”
    “I can’t wait that much longer,” I said. “This is torture. I know it’s your religion, and I respect that, but this is out of cont rol.”
    “Sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.” Her warm fingers threaded through mine.
    I breathed deep for a few minutes, stared at the ceiling, and tried to picture roadkill, tests, Phil, and other things to calm me down. Outside, an ancient motor turned over. “Sometimes I wonder what we’re doing,” I said.
    “Me, too.”
    “I want to make love to you.” I squeezed her hand.
    “I want that, too.” Her voice was q uiet.
    “And I know you’re waiting until you’re married. But we’re only eighteen. I can’t wait ten years. I don’t even think I can wait five ye ars.”
    The other thing, which I didn’t say out loud, was that at first I’d thought Irina was all talk, and I just needed to prove myself. It was only recently that I’d realized it wasn’t true. She was dead serious about waiting. Which made me almost serious about the Elvis idea.
    Irina glanced over and caught my eyes. “I don’t want to wait a long time, either. But I’m not ready to get married now. Eighteen seems insane. Twenty-three, ma ybe.”
    I groaned. “See, you can handle this because you’re doing it for something big that you believe in. I’m just doing it because you’re making me.”
    “I know. I’m sorry.” She sounded sad. And a little stressed. “I wish it wasn’t just me trying to do this alone. I know it’s hard for you.” She turned away, and I could see her profile: nose small and delicate, light lashes lowered and hiding her eyes.
    I had a scary thought then. Maybe we weren’t meant for each other. I loved her like a piece of me. I wanted her forever. But maybe what she needed was a religious guy. Maybe a guy like Micah, who would understand what made her tick.

    Somebody was making noise in the parking lot. Not a fight exactly, but a drunk argument in another language. There were three people in it, all women. Heels clattered on concrete and a door sla mmed.
    Irina hadn’t moved from the position she’d fallen asleep in. She was on her side, leg thrown over my waist, face nestled on my shoulder. Her hair was spread over the