“You didn’t say a word about wanting her,” Agatha whispered, her thumb tracing Eve’s pulse point. “But you never said anything about wanting me. And yet, all night, every gesture, every glance… was designed to make me jealous. To make me lean in. To win a wager so I’d have to admit I’m yours.”
“Three days,” Agatha had purred, her accent thickening with challenge. “You can’t make the next person who walks through that door beg to stay without saying a single word about wanting them.”
Eve’s mask of playful mystery cracked, revealing a raw, genuine heat underneath. “Was I that obvious?” Vixen - Eve Sweet and Agatha Vega - Wagered Aff...
“Then I’m yours for a night. Truly yours.” Agatha’s eyes flickered with something deeper than competition. “But if I win, you’re mine.”
“The vixen always knows when she’s being hunted.” “You didn’t say a word about wanting her,”
“No,” Agatha breathed, leaning across the table. Her hand caught Eve’s wrist. “I won. Because you just proved my point.”
The wager was forgotten. The stranger’s number lay untouched. Because the only prize that mattered was already leaning in, and the only bet either of them wanted to win… was each other. To make me lean in
For the next hour, Eve performed a masterclass. She didn’t approach. She didn’t flirt. She laughed softly at a private joke Agatha told, letting the sound drift. She leaned over to point out a piece of art on the far wall, her shoulder brushing Agatha’s just so. All the while, her attention felt like a warm spotlight that kept swerving just past the stranger, leaving her leaning in, hungry for it.
Now, the door to the private lounge opened. A tall, striking woman—a stranger—paused, looking for a quiet corner. Agatha shot Eve a triumphant smirk. Too easy, that look said.