Hi guys! Not what you have expected from me to upload... But this one-shot had been stuck in my head for months and since I'm going through a mild writer's block with Erase and Rewind, I thought I should post this instead!

It's a what if really, set during their time in New Orleans. It's a part in the book that always had me wondering. What if Rhett had made a different choice...

Rated T because of a couple of steamy paragraphs at the beginning! If you feel I'm crossing a line, say the word and I will change it to M immediately.

Additional A/N at the end with some poker terms glossary!

So there we go! Enjoy!

Thirty days since the day she became Mrs. Rhett Butler, since the day she became his. Thirty wondrous nights sharing a bed with her; having her lie drowsily in his embrace every night, his arms possessively holding her close, her black hair wrapped about his throat, his entire being engulfed by her lemon verbena scent. The warmth of her body was heaven, the softness of her skin the most expensive silk, her calm breathing the most harmonious song. Thirty days of bliss to the day. For him. Not for her. He was watching her closely. Of course. It had become a second nature to him over these years. She was having fun, he could tell. Perfectly tailored dresses, extravagant jewelry, luxurious hotels, expensive restaurants. This kind of superficial lifestyle suited her perfectly. She was made for luxury and she was glorying in it. And he was inclined to give her everything she had lacked during the War, everything her heart desired. The most outrageous demand, she named it and it was instantly done. Anything to see her eyes sparkling like a green lake in the sunlight, to see that breathtaking smile on her lips, to hear this gurgling laugh of hers. Anything to feel her arms wrapped around his neck and her soft mouth touching his skin to thank him. Shreds of pure joy in his day these moments when she only had eyes for him, when her stubborn mind was occupied by him and him alone.

Because it wasn't working. He was keeping her busy both her mind and her body, but it wasn't working. There were times when she was absentminded, when her face bore that faraway expression, the same expression it had born the day he proposed. She was looking at him and she wasn't even seeing him. And he knew that she was thinking of him. He just knew. It was driving him mad. He was giving her everything. Ever since the day he first laid eyes on her, he was by her side, ready to help her in every possible way. Sure, he had made his mistakes. And he had paid dearly for them. He had spent a whole year watching her being married to another man, carrying that man's child. Wasn't that punishment enough for all his past sins? He had hoped that one month away from Atlanta would have helped her put things into perspective. He was doing anything in his power to show her, reassure her, that he was there to take care of things. She didn't have to fight anymore. God knows, she had struggled long enough. He wanted to do the fighting for her and let her enjoy life and its pleasures the way she deserved to. But she was so blind. She couldn't see what he was doing and most importantly why he was doing it. She wouldn't see it even if it was right in front of her eyes. Because she didn't care to look carefully, she never did. Ashley. Always Ashley. That's all she ever cared about. He needed more time, but time was a luxury he didn't have. The time frame was getting tighter and tighter. In a couple of days they would return to Atlanta and she would go back to the lumber office. And him.

He opened his eyes in the darkness, his vision blurred by a veil of dark hair. The moonlight was streaming over the bed, its silver paleness making her alabaster skin seem almost transparent. He was holding her body, he could feel her, smell her, she was there and yet she wasn't. And just then she turned her head towards the window and she sighed. Blind rage flooded him, the blood pumped fiercely in his veins, his heart in his chest was hammering violently. She was thinking of him. She was in his arms and she was thinking of him. That minx. That two-faced, manipulating, hypocritical minx. His heavy arm around her neck became iron and he heard her gasp in surprise. He could squeeze a bit more, the temptation was far too pressing. He could squeeze and squeeze until his image would be blotted out. Until her cheating little soul would be sent straight to hell for all eternity. Or he could leave right there and then as far away as possible from this soul-eating witch and never look back. But it wouldn't do. She would still be thinking of him. He wouldn't win. He would lose once and for all and there wouldn't be a way back. That was not what he wanted. He wanted to break through her wall of passivity, he wanted to dominate her, both her mind and heart, he wanted her to look at him and see him, he wanted her to be there because she chose to be, because she couldn't breathe any other way. Much like he couldn't breathe unless he was with her.

With an abrupt move, his other arm was around her thin waist and he pulled her closer, her back on his chest, and she gasped anew. He could feel her body tensed and frozen and his determination reached a peak. He wouldn't lose anymore ground. He would do whatever it took until she would surrender, until she would melt in his embrace, until Ashley would be out of her mind. Or he would die trying. His hand went down her hip, his fingers slowly pulling her nightgown up exposing her velvet skin. His palm slid under the thin fabric, the warmth of her piercing right through him. He caressed his way up again and he rested his hand on her flat stomach. His lips feather kissed her long neck, from her ear to her shoulder and back again and he felt her shivering under his touch. There. She was beginning to relent. His other hand followed her collarbone line, then moved further down and cupped her breast. Another gasp and her nipple turned instantly hard in his palm. His hand moved down from her stomach and gently parted her thighs.

"Rhett, what are you doing?" she breathed, while his lips kissed and licked every millimeter at the back of her ear.

"Not a word, Scarlett," his voice deep and commanding.

His teeth nipped her earlobe and she moaned softly. He placed his hand between her legs and he slowly slid one finger inside her. She made a shocked sound and he smiled. Her wet readiness was driving him crazy. With one finger inside her his thumb found her soft spot and teased it. A spasm shook her body, a louder moan escaped her lips. She involuntarily parted her legs even more, granting him full access. That was all the encouragement he needed. His thumb began to gently massage her, his hand caressing and teasing her hard nipples, his mouth nipping, kissing, licking her skin endlessly. Her breath was coming out erratically now, her moans soon turned into groans and within seconds her whole body was jerking violently under his continuing ministrations. It arched for a brief moment and then relaxed wasted. Her heavy sigh burned his upper arm.

"What did just happen?" she whispered.

"That was the fun part of marriage I told you about," he laughed softly.

He leaned over her, his hands cupped her face and his mouth found her lips already parted to receive him. His kiss held nothing back. As deep and consuming as his love for her was. Her arms wrapped around his neck holding him in place and it was now her mouth demanding more. Her legs came apart inviting him between them and, when he did, they wrapped possessively around his waist. The wall was cracking and the blinding light narcotized his reason. A weak voice inside his fuzzy mind warned him. Hold your cards close to your chest. But then her wet warmness swallowed him and the voice died a sudden death. The game was turned around. He couldn't control her, he couldn't dominate her. She had all the aces. The reins were in her hands -always were- and she was holding them tight. He didn't care. At that moment all that mattered was her willing, sweaty body matching his rhythm. His hands roamed up and down her full length before they got lost in her velvet locks. And for one single magical second her eyes opened and everything turned brilliant, emerald green. She looked at him, seeing him and him only -burning fire meeting burning fire- and she whispered, "Rhett…"

Her features distorted from lust, her nails dag into his shoulders just as her thin figure began to shake uncontrollably beneath him. Her frenzying breath marked his skin like hot iron pushing him over the edge and he met her climax groaning her name. Another round lost.

For a long string of moments no one moved, their panting the only sound in the room. But his reason was quickly returning along with his normal breathing and he parted hastily from her warmth and lay on his back next to her, his eyes piercing through the ceiling. He felt her stir hesitantly. After thirty nights he knew the routine by heart; she would put her nightgown back on, then withdraw to her side of the bed and wait for him to reach out for her. Her delicate arm startled him, when she wrapped it around his waist instead. She crawled closer to him fitting her naked body with his and she rested her dark head on his chest.

That was a first. Was it enough? No. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. He couldn't go all his life waiting for that one magical moment at the peak of passion. He wanted more, much more. He mustered all his courage and with one last quick breath in of her hair he removed her arm from his body and got out of bed.

"Where are you going?" she puzzled while he was already putting on his clothes. "What are you doing?" the panic in her voice was palpable.

"I am ridding you of my annoying presence, my pet," he drawled. "Thus you can go on dreaming about your precious Ashley without any further disturbances."

Her jaw dropped ajar in pure shock. He could as well have knocked her over with a feather. He didn't need more proof. He turned his back at her and left the room without a single look over his shoulder.

With large strides he reached the front door and opened it. And he halted. It was just one step, he could do it. He could leave and run as far away as his feet would take him. He gripped the door so forcefully that his knuckles whitened. His mind was rebelling against the demands of his heart. It was either fold or all in. "Rhett," her whisper -the whisper of a Siren- echoed in his ears and the die was cast. He kicked the door close with a deafening bang, infuriated with himself beyond words, and stormed into the bedroom again.

She jumped startled and the sheet, that was so offhandedly used to cover her body, slid down of her fully exposing her nudity to the merciless moonlight. But he didn't notice, blinded as he was with anger and jealousy. He reached her side quick as a panther and grabbed her shoulders.

"How many people can be on a bed, Scarlett? How many?" he shook her violently. "Certainly not three. I will not spend another night on an overcrowded bed, do you hear me? It's either two or one. You, alone. Which one is it going to be?" he shook her again. "Answer me, damn it. Which one?"

She slowly raised her eyes to him. And right at that moment, his heart literally stopped beating and the air left his lungs with a loud heave; there were silver trickles of tears pouring down her face. His anger evaporated and he released his grip. Becoming suddenly aware of her exposed state, he put the sheet around her again. She blushed deeply and clung to it murmuring a barely audible 'thank you'.

He wiped her tears with his thumb and she quivered. He rubbed his fingers together marveling at the wetness. He had infuriated her in the past, he had caused her shame and even hate in several occasions, but he had never made her cry before. He hadn't thought it was even possible to hurt her, because she didn't care. Or did she? Shuffle, cut, deal.

"Why were you crying?" he asked softly. No response. "Why were you crying, Scarlett?" he pressed on.

"I don't know," she murmured.

"Can this mean that you didn't want me to leave?"

Her shoulders tensed and he saw her pressing her lips together. Was he getting to the bottom of this? A ten.

"Why?"

"Why, why, why!" she exclaimed. "I don't know why. All I know is that I didn't want you to leave after…after…" she paused embarrassed with her own forwardness. A Jack.

"After what?" he leaned closer, his voice falling into a seductive whisper. "After this?" his fingers traced the line of her shoulders and she gasped. "Or this?" his lips left a soft kiss on her jaw, followed by another and another, and she moaned.

"Never…like…this…before…" she stammered between shallow breaths. A Queen.

"What?" he inched away breaking the spell. "What did you say?"

"It was never like this before," she whispered.

"No?"

"No."

"Care to elaborate?" he raised one brow. Bet.

"Before tonight you…," a hard swallow. "You always seemed to be holding yourself under restrain like…like…." she tried to find the correct words, "like riding your emotions with curb bit."

"Curb bit, is it?" he laughed with her accurate choice of words. He wouldn't have phrased it better himself. If only she knew the amount of willpower it needed to do so.

"Yes, curb bit. I know a thing or two about horses, thank you very much."

"And tonight I was different?" he recalled her to the matter at hand. Exchange two cards.

She nodded and blushed at the same time. God, she could be so unpretentiously innocent sometimes.

"How so?"

"I…I can't talk about these things," she was twisting and untwisting one end of the sheet between her fingers again and again.

"Try, Scarlett," he placed his hand on top of hers to make her stop.

"Oh, alright," she said furiously. "It was something about your touch… You were touching me differently. As if… as if…"

"As if?"

"As if you cared," she finally breathed.

Check. "Aha," he said as nonchalantly as he could master. Had he exposed himself that much? "And you prefer that?" Poker face.

"Hell, I prefer that," she exaggerated. "At least I know that you are a human being and you turn yourself loose from time to time."

"Alright," he pretended to take the matter under serious consideration, his mind frantically planning his next move. "Is this why you responded to me?" Call it and raise it, darling.

"I've responded before," she protested.

"No, you haven't."

"Was I different tonight?" she cast her gaze down, but her dimples flickered.

That minx! She still thought that her usual flirtation techniques would work with him. Well, he wasn't going to make it easier for her. It was fish versus shark.

"Were you?" he asked flatly.

She raised her eyes to him, alarmed and bewildered by his change of tone.

"Wasn't I?" was he detecting a trace of disappointment? A King.

"Your body maybe. But what about your mind?"

"What about it?"

"Was your mind with me the whole time, Scarlett?"

Her bottom lip was quivering and she bit it to make it stop. A sign he unmistakably knew meant that she was fighting an internal battle. Tilt. Was it her strong childhood beliefs versus the newly found pleasures? Or was there anything more? He put a finger under her chin and lifted her crimson face to him. She managed to hold her gaze steady only for a few seconds before dropping it again, but it was enough. The answer was there in her green depths, even if she couldn't utter it; embarrassment, confusion, guilt and a tiny little blaze he hadn't seen before, but identified as desire. A mere confirmation of what her body had already told him. Something had changed. He hadn't been mistaken. Tonight for the first time he had touched her and she was there, body and spirit. He fought back the urge to let out a triumphant rebel yell and with even more effort he put out the fire that was most certainly burning in his eyes. For once, he had managed to kick Ashley out of her head. Could this be a beginning? Could he make it last? Could it be expanded outside the bedroom too? One round at a time, his poker mind reasoned. He had to play it cleverly. Last card.

"I see," he said icily. "Let's return to the initial question instead. How many are they going to be on the bed, Scarlett?"

More silence. Tense, awkward, zero eye contact silence. It was time for a bluff induce; he made a move to stand up. And -much like he half expected and half hoped- her hand grabbed his arm firmly. An Ace.

"Please don't go," she said quickly.

Royal Flush. His heart leaped up with joy. A wide playful grin spread on his face. "I was only going to take my clothes off," he teased trying really hard to suppress his laughter. "I don't usually go to bed all dressed up."

Her mouth dropped open in shock for only one moment. And then her eyes flashed with anger and embarrassment.

"You conceited, black hearted varmint! You cad!" she yelled furiously and threw a pillow at him. "Get out of here. Leave. Just leave and never come back."

His arms wrapped around her waist and he crushed her fighting body on his chest. She tried to push him back, evade his touch.

"No," she muffled, but he pressed his mouth on hers, his tongue forcing its way between her lips, shushing her protests. One… Two… Three seconds passed and her resistance abated. Her heated body began to melt in his embrace. Her arms swathed his neck, her tongue coyly met his and she pulled him back on the bed. He frantically removed his shirt and trousers and leaned over her.

"As if you care?" she whispered in his ear.

He moved a few inches away from her, enough to inspect her eyes. No hidden meanings, no mockery there. Just a pure request. His mouth suddenly dry, he didn't trust himself to speak. He nodded and she rewarded him with a passionate kiss. And any remaining thoughts fell to oblivion.

"Rhett?" he heard her murmuring drowsily, her body relaxed and heavy in his arms, her head resting on his chest.

"Mmmmm," he was twining a wisp of her hair between his fingers.

"Do you think we could delay our return?" the twining stopped abruptly.

Damn his heart. It began to pound again and she would hear it. He stretched his arm to take a cigar from the nightstand, enough for her head to slide to his shoulder.

"Sure," he said offhandedly. "May I ask why?" Time he needed and time he was granted. Against all odds.

"I am not ready to go back just yet," she sighed and buried her face in the crook of his neck.

She didn't want to go back, she wanted to stay there with him. A choice. A start. Hope. Frightening, breathtaking, heartwarming hope. He felt his poker face cracking. He draw her hair over his face and closed his eyes. Deep breath. Lemon verbena scent, only saltier. Bliss.

"Scarlett, do you care to learn how to play poker?" he asked.

"Poker?" she puzzled.

"There is one particular variation I would really like to teach you. It involves clothing removal."

He didn't have to see her face to see that she had turned crimson once more. And then he surprised him for the hundredth time that night when she raised her eyes to him; her cheeks deliciously scarlet, her dimples deep, white teeth biting the swollen bottom lip, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Why, Rhett," her eyelashes flickered, humor fighting modesty. "I am not wearing any clothes."

He burst into hearty, roaring laughter.

"And that, my darling, is what we call a bully in poker."

This is it! Was it confusing with all the terms? I hope not... Say so if otherwise.

Some explaining on the poker terms, apart from the obvious ones:

all in= having bet all of your chips in the current hand

fold= to discard one's hand and forfeit interest in the current pot

shark= a professional player

fish= a weak player

tilt= emotional upset, mental confusion, or frustration in which a player adopts a less than optimal strategy, usually resulting in poor play and poor performance

bluff induce= to make an aggressive move with a good hand to give the impression it is a bluff, in order to draw a bluff from your opponent

bully= a player who raises frequently to force out more cautious players, especially one with a large stack for the size of the game

It is one of my strongest beliefs that if Rhett had been more open to her in bed from the beginning, like he was that night, he would have had better chances of winning her over and much earlier! The quote about the curb bit is directly from the book and I agree with Rhett! I wouldn't have phrased it better myself either! :-)

So, I'm waiting! How did you find it? Share your thoughts, feelings, objections with me! Thank you! Take care! xxx