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“Logan, please.”
A shift of his hips lines us up perfectly. With agonizing slowness, he sinks inside. We fit together so right. A tight fit. But perfect. We both groan, and his lips meet mine. His hips keep rolling at that teasing, slow pace designed to drive me wild.
Heat races over every exposed inch of my skin. He twines his fingers with mine and pulls my arms over my head. With one hand, he pins my wrists to the bed. He clutches my hip with his free hand and drives into me harder.
I’ve never experienced anything like this before. There’s this amazing physical connection. But something else bubbles below all our explosive chemistry.
My nerve endings tingle and sizzle. I’m close to going off again. He accelerates, hooking his arm behind my knee. “Fuck me back, Shelby,” he whispers against my lips.
I buck against his thrusts and gasp at the swelling pleasure.
“That’s a girl. Harder,” he encourages.
He rams into me with such force, I’m sure I’ll splinter apart. At the last second, he captures my gaze. The steady eye contact pushes me over the edge again. He groans and thrusts harder, letting out a stream of beautiful curses as he explodes inside me.
He keeps moving and groaning and finally slows his frantic movements. He drops his forehead to my chest and places a kiss between my breasts.
“You’re unreal, Shelby,” he murmurs.
Carefully, he holds the base of the condom and slips free. “Give me a second.”
Too content to speak, I watch him go. After a minute, I jump up and use the bathroom. He’s returning from the kitchen with a glass of water when I open the door.
“I was worried you left.”
He scowls. “Not fucking likely.” He stays rooted to the spot, his gaze roaming over my nude body.
“You’re more beautiful than I deserve.”
I take the water and sip slowly before answering. “I doubt that.”
“You all right with me staying?” He follows me back to my room.
I scoot to the side of the bed against the wall to make room for him. “I’ll be offended if you don’t.”
He snaps off the lamp on my nightstand and stretches out next to me. “Come here.”
Our breaths mingle together, and within seconds, I’m out cold.
Chapter Eleven
Rooster
Steady thumps and shouts pull me from sleep. Shelby’s soft, warm naked body is still sprawled out against me. I allow my hands to wander over her curves for a few seconds before noticing the ruckus outside again.
What the fuck?
Afraid whoever it is will wake her, I reach down and snatch up my jeans.
“Rooster?” Her morning rough voice is sexy-as-fuck, and I’m ready to pin her down and fuck her speechless again.
“I think someone’s at your door.”
She wrinkles her nose and glances at the clock. “Shoot, I never set my alarm. I’m late.”
“For?” I ask, letting the question hang.
Again, she’s squirrelly about telling me her plans. Maybe she’s a stripper and she’s embarrassed? But I don’t get that vibe from her. Plus, she doesn’t seem to own anything with glitter or sequins on it.
Tipsy Saddle. Isn’t that where one of the cops said she’d be tonight? Sounds like a bar. Maybe she’s a topless waitress? Certainly, has the tits for the job.
Guys would be tripping over themselves to get at her.
Fuck, the idea of beating guys off her heats my blood.
The pounding on the front door starts up again. I stalk out to the living room and yank open the door.
The douchebag I didn’t punch nearly enough yesterday, Brad, is on the other side. He recoils the second he sees me.
“Where’s Shelby?”
“Not your concern.”
“Brad?” Shelby yells. “What are you doing here?”
“You fucking slut! Took me two months to pry open your legs, but you’re fucking this guy—”
I cut off his insults by wrapping a hand around his neck, choking off his air supply. “Say one more word to her, and I’ll snap your motherfucking head off. We clear?”
He nods once and gasps. His hands claw at my arm, but I’m not done.
“You two are over. You stop by, call her, do anything to bother her ever again, I’ll fucking end you.”
His head moves a millimeter or two. I’m grasping too tight for him to nod properly. “Yes,” he gasps.
“Good.” I throw him to the ground, and he crab crawls away a few feet before standing.
His lips part to throw more nasty words at Shelby and I’m right up in his face again. “Do it and I’ll beat you to death on her front lawn.”
Finally, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m going.”
I wait and watch him leave before going back inside.
“Thank you,” Shelby whispers. “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? He’s the asshole.”
She shrugs.
“You need a ride?”
“No. I called and let them know I’m running late. Come inside so I can make you breakfast.” She leans up and kisses my cheek. “I at least owe you some eggs after all those magnificent orgasms you gave me.”
“Magnificent, huh?” I slam the door behind us and follow her into the kitchen.
Chapter Twelve
Shelby
This morning, all the lights are blazing inside the Tipsy Saddle. Somehow, the interior is still dark and shadowy. The scent of stale popcorn and spilled beer lingers in the air. A pungent, sweaty aroma will get added to the mix tonight when the place is packed with our regular buzzed two-stepping crowd.
“I’m so sorry!” I yelp, as I hurry inside and set down my guitar.
Trent’s waiting in the long hallway and leans down to grab my guitar case. “You’re never late. Everything okay?”
Beyond him, I make out the dull wooden bar with a line of stools neatly nestled underneath. No matter how many times we clean that bar top, it’s always a bit sticky. Beyond that, chairs are neatly stacked on top of scarred wood tables. A hearty layer of sawdust coats the floor.
As far as honky-tonks go, it’s not the worst I’ve ever visited.
“Broke up with Brad,” I admit.
“Bout time. He ain’t worth two cents, Shelby. Never was good enough for ya.”
Yeah, the few times I’d brought Brad to rehearsal, he’d managed to alienate every person he came into contact with. Even Trent, who’s the most laid-back person ever.
“You all right?”
I blush and duck my head. “I kind of met someone. It’s a long story.”
“Tell me later. The guys we hired for tonight are getting restless.”
I hurry to the stage and say a quick hello to the drummer. I’m not sure where the other guy is but I’m too flustered to do anything more than check my equipment. I’m not surprised to find that Trent has ever
ything ready for me. “Thank you.”
“No problem.” He picks up his guitar and lifts his chin.
The bassist, a guy I don’t recognize, throws a scowl at me as he struts onto the stage.
I don’t need to look at the list. I know it by heart. All the same cover songs you’d expect to hear in a place like the Tipsy Saddle. There’s also a short list of my own songs. I’m pretty sure the bass player rolls his eyes at one point but I pay him no mind. It’s not the first time I’ve been dismissed and it certainly won’t be the last. No one’s paying him to perform his original material tonight, so he can suck it.
When we’re finished rehearsing our set, Trent walks the guys to the back door. Once they’re out of sight, I pull out my acoustic guitar and drop down onto a bench.
Soft boot steps over the hardwood stop my strumming. “Something new you want to work on?” Trent asks, watching me carefully.
“A few lyrics have been floating around in my head all morning.” Even though we’ve spent many hours writing together, this feels too personal to share details.
“Break-up song?”
“Hardly.” No, it wasn’t Brad on my mind this morning. Not even after the ugly scene at my house. Rooster is the only man occupying my thoughts.
I strum a few chords and allow the words to flow out.
Trent raises an eyebrow and chuckles. “Must be some story.”
He helps me work out the melody on the old backstage piano. It still needs finessing, but I like where it’s headed.
After rehearsal, my manager stops by to discuss tour plans. I still can’t believe I have an actual manager. But Greg’s been such a help to me over the last month.
For the rest of the day, I help get the bar ready to open. In the free hour I have before I have to go on stage, my mother stops by with my dress.
I can’t help bouncing up and down on my toes when I see it. “It’s so pretty.”
