I met her gaze. “The things I wanna do can’t be done in public, killer.”
She licked her lips. “Tell me anyway.”
This was stupid, so fucking stupid, and reckless, to boot. There was no future in which Lennox Hayes and I would ever be more than one night.
But maybe one night was all we needed.
Even I couldn’t deny that fighting with her got my dick hard. Her snarky comments and devil-may-care attitude were unlike any other woman I’d ever met. She wasn’t the type to be tied down, and I hoped she never was. Lennox deserved to run as free as the Mustangs in Montana.
I stepped forward, brushing her long hair over her shoulder, lingering at the crook of her neck. Her pulse was erratic, thrumming just beneath the surface of her skin. I let it ground me as I wrapped my hand gently around her throat and softly squeezed. She was still wearing my hat. I should’ve taken it from her but couldn’t bring myself to. Not when she looked so fucking good wearing it.
“You wanna know what I’d do to you?” Lennox nodded, barely able to move in my grip. I leaned forward, enjoying the way her eyes fluttered close as I whispered, “It’s taking everything in me not to throw you over my shoulder again and haul your bratty ass to the bathroom. I wanna lock the door, force you to your knees, and stuff that smart fucking mouth with my cock until your make-up is ruined. And then I’d fuck you bareagainst the wall, hard and fast, letting you scream for more. I bet you’d beg me to come inside your hot little cunt, wouldn’t you?” She whimpered, fidgeting in her seat. It filled me with a smug sense of satisfaction. “Yeah, you’d thank me for filling you up, killer. It’d turn you on to know I’m leaking out of you whenever some other mother fucker tried talking to you.”
“Fuck,” she cursed, reaching for my belt to pull me closer.
But I smirked, stepping away and leaving her needy. Lennox opened her eyes, ready to smart back, as Cleo came back to the table with red-rimmed eyes and a bucket of beers. She forced a smile, wavering slightly as she looked toward the band on the stage. “I brought more drinks!” she called, handing us each a beer.
I didn’t feel the same buzz I felt earlier. Now, all I could feel was the phantom beat of Lennox’s racing heart as I held her like I owned her.
I hated how much I wanted to feel it again.
lennox
. . .
I wantedto fuck Bishop Bryant. And not just in a casual, one-night random rendezvous. I wanted everything he’d whispered in my ear and more. I wanted to be wrecked so thoroughly that I didn’t know my name when he was done.
Who’d have known the grumpy cowboy had it in him? I sure didn’t. He showed a side of him tonight that I never knew existed. One I desperately wanted to explore, to see what other sordid things he could come up with in his slutty little mind.
I stood up on the stool to mess with him. Maybe I wanted to piss him off a little, provoke him just a little bit so he would either lighten up or leave me alone. In the end, the result was better than I ever imagined.
After Cleo returned to the table, we sat and watched the concert without much fuss. I didn’t even finish the beers Cleo brought. I wanted to go up to the front, to let the vibrations from the speakers run through my body. Maybe it would kill some of the restless energy consuming me since Bishop whispered in my ear, but Cleo begged to stay. She said something about having too much to drink and needing to stay by a trash can in case she threw up.
I wasn’t gonna argue with that logic because I definitely didn’t want to be the one dealing with the mess.
Bishop had returned to his seat behind me. I didn’t have to look his way to know he kept his eyes on me. It felt like pinpricks all over my skin, an icy chill forcing all my hair to stand on end, which was annoying, seeing as I’d just shaved.
By the time the band finished, I was ready to crawl out of my skin. It didn’t matter how good the concert was. I couldn’t focus on anything but the way Bishop touched me. Every inch of my body burned, needy and desperate.
“Yeah, you’d thank me for filling you up, killer. It’d turn you on to know I’m leaking out of you whenever some other mother fucker tried talking to you.”
That was the type of talk you read about in books, not from the foreman on your parent’s ranch. I didn’t even know Bishop could string that many words together. He usually kept his conversations as straight to the point as possible—more of a one-word kinda guy.
He didn’t even know that he’d perfectly summed up every filthy fantasy I’d ever had.
I loved rough sex, craved it even, but most of the men I’d been with couldn’t find my clit with a map. They cared more about chasing their own orgasm than helping me reach mine. Then, and possibly the worst part of it all, was how they had the audacity to turn to me and ask if it was good?
Dude, don’t make me laugh. I didn’t even come. Get out of here with that bullshit.
Somehow, though, I knew Bishop was different than the rest. Iknewhe would be the best sex of my life, which meant it was ridiculously unfair that he was who he was. I mean, there was no way we could sleep together. That would just be stupid. Reckless, even.
Exactly why I wanted to do it.
I saw Bishop talking to one of the ranch hands while they closed their tabs. He’d quickly sought out our ride after Josie and Lincoln left so we wouldn’t have to worry about it later. Thank God for that, because Cleo and I did not have the right mindset to plan shit.
She may have had one too many beers. Or maybe it was the shots? And I’d been dirty talked into a quiet submission. Who knew that was a thing?
I was standing off to the side near the band’s merch table. Cleo had run to the bathroom for what seemed like the tenth time in five minutes. I didn’t know if she was getting sick or had broken the seal too early.
