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“Huh?” He pulled his attention back to Junior.
“I promised LouAnn I’d sit through some movie she picked out. I guess Channing Tatum took off his shirt again.” He sighed and shook his head. “The things I do for love. Hi, Mel. Bye, Mel.”
“Bye, Junior.” From the moment she walked in the door, her big blue eyes never wavered from his, and Josh felt the last of the tension in his neck dissolve. “Hey, Chief,” she said in a voice filled with pure invitation.
His body responded with a big yes. He picked up their drinks. “I ordered for you. Let’s get a table.”
She led him to one of the last open booths along the back wall. Once she sat, he scooted in beside her and handed her the wine. One corner of her mouth curved up. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“Would you like me to get you drunk?”
She leaned in close. “There’s no need. My inhibitions are already nonexistent where you’re concerned.”
He couldn’t say whether it was her admission, or her breath tickling his ear, or a combination of the two, but he suddenly lost all desire to hang out at Rawley’s. He drew back and looked at her flushed face and twinkling eyes.
She took a sip of wine, then closed her eyes, sighed, and let her head tip back as she swallowed. He imagined grabbing a handful of her soft, wavy hair, tilting her head back a little more, and—
“Whew, what a day. The afternoon was so busy, I feel like this is the first moment I’ve had to relax.” She tapped a finger against her wineglass. “This is perfect. Thank you.”
Okay, it wouldn’t kill him to hang out a few more minutes. “Technically, the drink is from Tyler. He bought us a round.”
Her smile kicked up another notch. “Why Chief, are you making friends here in little old Bluelick?”
He slipped his hand between her knees and glided his palm up the warm, smooth path of her inner thigh. “I like to think I’ve already made a friend.”
Her eyelids fluttered. Her breath hitched. Her leg muscles melted under his touch, allowing him unhampered access to his “friend.” He stroked the already-damp silk of her panties. “Did my friend miss me?”
“No. In fact, after all this time, you’ll have to reintroduce yourself.” Despite her sassy reply, she scooted closer, pushing herself more fully into his palm.
He laughed at her stubbornness and sent a finger under the slippery fabric and into the slicker, silkier territory beneath. “I think she remembers. She’s making me feel right at home.”
Melody placed her hands on the table, fingers spread wide as if seeking stability. “She’s just being polite. Call it”—her words trailed off with a little moan when he eased his finger inside her tight, hot channel—“Southern hospitality.”
“Have I mentioned how much I appreciate Southern hospitality?”
“I think you’d better give me a demonstration.”
“You’re not wearing pink,” he pointed out.
“Yes, I am. You just haven’t seen it yet.”
Well, now he had to. He withdrew his hand, ignored her small sound of disappointment, and turned in the booth so his back and shoulders protected her from prying eyes. “Lift up your skirt.”
Her hand disappeared under the table and she raised the hem to her thighs, until he caught a flash of the promised pink panties. “Like this?”
“Almost.” He grabbed a handful of the back of her skirt and raised it. She lifted her hips to help, but complained, “It’s going to get all wrinkled.”
“You worried people will know how the wrinkles got there? Maybe they will. Maybe your wrinkled skirt will scandalize the whole damn bar. You secretly want to scandalize them, don’t you?” Since he was in the vicinity, he sneaked his hand under her raised hips and palmed her ass, happy to find warm, smooth skin and a very tiny thong. Her low moan suggested he wasn’t the only happy one. “Don’t you?” he repeated.
She groaned, and nodded. “Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I want to.”
“You’d like to shock them all.”
“Yes.”
