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One eyebrow arched ever so slightly. “Then why does it sound that way?”
“Does it? Sorry. You are who you are. Take off your pants.”
“No.”
She’d sidetracked him with her big mouth. And, really, what did she have to complain about? “I’ve never known a guy so anxious to keep his clothes on. What’s with you, anyway?”
The man who was never defensive lashed out. “Do you have a problem with last night that I’m not aware of? You weren’t satisfied?”
“How could I not have been satisfied? You should market what you know about the female body. I swear you took me on that rocket ride to the stars at least three times.”
“Six.”
He’d been counting. She wasn’t surprised. But she was crazy. Why else would she insult the only lover she’d ever known who cared more about her pleasure than his own? She needed to see a therapist.
“Six?” She quickly reached behind her back and unfastened her bra. Holding her hands over the cups, she let the straps slip down her shoulders. “Then you’d better take it easy on me today.”
Lust trumped his indignation. “Or maybe I just need to take a little more time with you.”
“Oh, God, n
o.” She groaned.
But she’d challenged his legendary lovemaking skills, and a look of grim determination had settled over his features. With one long stride, he covered the distance remaining between them. The next thing she knew, her bra was on the ground and her breasts were in his hands. There, on the perimeter of the landfill, with decades of garbage decomposing in compacted cells, with methane meters sniffing the air and toxic leachate trickling through underground pipes, Ted Beaudine pulled out all the stops.
Not even last night’s slow torture could have prepared her for today’s meticulously calculated torment. She should have known better than to have even hinted that she wasn’t completely satisfied, because now he was determined to make her eat her words. He bit the dragon on her bottom as he leaned down to pull off her shorts and panties. He bent her and turned her. He stroked, caressed, and explored with his deft inventor’s fingers. Once again, she was at his mercy. She’d need shackles and handcuffs if she ever intended to take over control from this man.
While the hot Texas sun beat down on them, his clothes disappeared. Sweat slicked his back, and twin furrows creased his forehead as he ignored the urgent demands of his own body to earn an A-plus in inciting hers. She wanted to scream at him to let go and enjoy, but she was too busy screaming her other demands.
He threw open the door of the cab, lifted her limp body onto the seat, and propped her legs wide. Keeping his own feet on the ground, he toyed and tormented, using his fingers as sweet weapons of invasion. Naturally, one orgasm wasn’t good enough for him, and when she shattered, he pulled her from the cab and pressed her front-first against the side of the truck. The heated metal acted like a sex toy against her already provoked nipples as he played with her from behind. Finally, he turned her and started all over again.
By the time he entered her, she’d lost count of her orgasms, although she was sure he hadn’t. He held her against the side of the truck with seeming ease, her legs wrapped around his waist, her bottom in the palms of his hands. Supporting her weight couldn’t have been comfortable for him, but he showed no signs of strain.
His strokes were deep and controlled, her comfort paramount, even as he arched his neck, turned his face to the sun, and found his own release.
,
What more could any woman want in a lover? All the way back home, she asked herself that question. He was spontaneous, generous, inventive. He had a great body, and he smelled fantastic. He was absolutely perfect. Except for that emotional hole inside him.
He’d been prepared to marry Lucy and spend the rest of his life with her, but her desertion didn’t seem to have made even a ripple in his daily existence. Something to remember if she ever found herself entertaining the vaguest notion of a more permanent future together. The only thing Ted felt deeply was his sense of responsibility.
As he turned into the lane that led to the church, he started fiddling with one of the truck’s mystery controls. She suspected he was waiting for his report card as a lover, and how could she give him anything but an A-plus? Her lingering disappointment was her problem, not his. Only a total bitch would dump on a guy who did everything—almost everything—right.
“You’re a great lover, Ted. Really.” She smiled, meaning every word.
He glanced over at her, his expression stony. “Why would you tell me that?”
“I don’t want you to think I’m ungrateful.”
She should have kept her mouth shut because golden storm signals flashed in his eyes. “I don’t need your damned gratitude.”
“I just meant . . . It was amazing.” But she was only making things worse, and the way his knuckles tightened on the worn steering wheel proved that all those people who claimed nothing ever upset Ted Beaudine clearly didn’t know what they were talking about.
“I was there, remember?” His words were metal shards.
“Absolutely,” she said. “How could I forget?”
He slammed on his brakes. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
