Page 65 of High Water

“I think Dakota knows where to send the bill. Let’s go.”

“But the girls,” she whines, looking out at Hazel and her friends who are still dancing the night away.

“They’re not walking down an aisle tomorrow, or they’d be in bed too.”

“This is becoming a habit, you know. You showing up in this bar and telling me I’m going to bed.”

“I can give you the full effect, carry you up there, and you can berate me on the way.”

“Okay!” She holds out her arms unexpectedly for me, and it takes me back. But I don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. I wrap one arm around her back and another under her legs, pulling her up into my arms, and start to walk to the back staff entrance.

“Goodnight!” I call out to Dakota on the way, and Aspen waves like she’s a royal on parade, another round of giggles going through her.

“Good luck!” Dakota winks at me, smirking at the state she’s put my soon-to-be wife in.

I’ll need it. This woman is trouble when she’s unencumbered by propriety. The best kind of wild at heart I’ve ever known, but I have to be careful not to enjoy it too much when she’s showing me more than I guess she’d be ready to if she weren’t letting strangers pour whiskey down her throat.

“Are you coming up with me?” Her fingers play over the chain at my neck until she pulls it from under my shirt. She studies the dog tags and the P-38 that hangs next to them.

“I’m just gonna get you in bed, Jones. Set you up with some water and things so you don’t wake up hating the world in the morning.”

“I don’t hate the world right now. That’s progress. Right?”

“You normally hate it?”

“Not exactly. But I’ve grown a little weary of it. I keep everything happy for Fallon though. Don’t worry.” She shakes her head as we ride up the elevator.

“I’m not worried,” I promise her, but I am. This woman carries too much on her shoulders.

“What’s this?” She holds up the P-38, running her finger over the edge before she lets out a hiss. “Ouch!”

“Careful,” I warn.

“Too late.” Blood blooms at her fingertip as she holds it up for me. I suck it into my mouth without thinking, and her eyes go wide at the gesture. I lick the blood clean, and she pulls it away, her brow still furrowed.

“Oh,” she says softly, like she’s found something freshly interesting.

“It’s a can opener. Or it was. It was your grandfather’s during the war. Your dad gave it to me when I went to boot camp. Said it was good luck.”

“Huh,” she whispers softly, watching as a fresh bloom of blood emerges on the shallow cut. She holds it up for me, and I run my tongue over it. She drags what’s left over my lower lip and stares. “That’s kind of hot.”

“You got a vampire kink I don’t know about?” I smirk when I set her down on her feet again outside her hotel room.

“I didn’t know about it either, but maybe? You might have to bite my neck.” She grins as I open the door for her, and she grabs my T-shirt, dragging me in behind her.

Once we’re inside, she pushes me down onto the bed and climbs into my lap.

“Jones…” I warn her.

“I know. I know. I’m drunk. We have rules to follow.”

“We do. You were very clear about celibacy. I think that’d probably go double when you’ve been drinking.”

“And you were very clear that I’d rediscover my love of being a cowgirl.” She grins and buries her face against my neck. The sweep of her breath against my throat and the feel of her fingers biting into my back have me so fucking tempted. “Speaking of, I rode the bull tonight. You missed it.” She rolls her hips. “I stayed on for seven whole seconds.” She plucks my hat off my head and puts it on her own. Fuck. I forgot how weak I go for this woman when she’s in this kind of mood. “How long do you think you could last if I rode you?” She rolls her hips again, and the warm feel of her seeps in through my jeans.

“You need water.” We both do. I just need to dump mine on my fucking lap.

“And you need to come, judging by how hard you are right now.”