“Like what you see?” he says.

I toss my ponytail back over my shoulder contemptuously, then face the pool table again.

I don’t know if it was the sight of Sebastian, or my own haste to keep playing, but I miss my next shot. Worse still, the cue ball rolls into the pocket, so Sebastian can position it wherever he likes behind the line.

“B`lyad!” I swear in annoyance.

I’m even more annoyed by Sebastian’s smug expression as he takes his spot at the top of the table. Without even aiming, he sinks the 10.

“Your turn,” he says.

He means my turn to strip, not to play. Irritated, I slip off my left shoe. It’s a Manolo Blahnik and I don’t fancy putting my foot back into it, if I get my soles dirty on the dusty concrete.

Sebastian sinks the 12 as well.

“Can’t have you standing lopsided,” he grins.

I take off the right shoe. Now my heart is beating fast. I had planned to run the table, not put myself on the receiving end of a streak. I can’t believe I missed.

Sebastian puts the 15 in the corner pocket.

Frowning, I pull the elastic out of my ponytail so my hair falls loose around my shoulders.

“I’m not sure that counts as clothing,” Sebastian says.

“Yes it does,” I hiss.

“Whatever you say.” He sinks the 14 easily.

Fuck.

I should have worn a lot more layers before I agreed to this game.

Slowly, I reach behind me and unzip the back of my dress. It’s an electric blue minidress, which didn’t cover much to begin with. It’s about to cover a whole lot less.

I pull down the shoulder straps, letting the dress fall to my feet in a puddle. Now it’s Sebastian’s turn to let his jaw drop.

His reaction is, at least, satisfying. He looks mildly stunned, like he just received a blow to the head. He doesn’t even pretend not to let his eyes roam over my body in my black silk bra and panty set.

Hopefully my figure will have a similar effect on him, and he’ll miss his next shot.

Instead, the opposite occurs. Sebastian faces the pool table with a new level of focus. Before he was playing around — now he’s dead serious. He wants to win this game.

His next shot is tricky. With my solids in the way, he doesn’t have a clean shot. He has to bank the 9 off the wall to sink it in the side pocket.

He hits the ball slightly off-center, and for a second I think he’s going to miss. But it hits the edge of the pocket and falls in.

Silently, Sebastian turns to face me.

I don’t know why I’m so nervous.

I didn’t mean for the game to go this far.

I’m suddenly aware how tall he is, especially now that I’m not wearing heels. I’m aware that we’re alone down here, in this dimly lit space, with the music thumping so loudly overhead that no one would hear us. Sebastian’s eyes look dark and deeply shadowed.