Serving Trouble(30)

“Planning to take off your shirt too?” he asked.

She reached behind her and released the knot in her T-­shirt. “You don’t have any scars,” she said as the fabric loosened. She pulled the old Big Buck’s shirt off and tossed it aside.

“I was lucky,” he said. “Always one truck behind the one that hit the IED or out on patrol when our base was under fire.”

“Lucky,” she repeated, knowing that bearing witness came with its own scars.

He nodded, his smile replaced by a grim frown. “And you know the crazy thing?” He ran a hand through his short blond hair, leaving it standing up and shooting out in different directions. “There are things I still miss. I liked the challenge and the feeling like I was going out each day and getting something done.”

We don’t have room for long faces and serious words. Not tonight. Not in here.

“You miss the competition? How about a race? First one to get naked wins?”

Heat and humor chased away the bleak look in his eyes. Yes, this was the man who’d thought about giving her an orgasm on the side of the road, who’d kissed her in the parking lot.

“You’re pretty damn set on these naked kisses, aren’t you?” he murmured.

She nodded as her fingers toyed with the button on her shorts. “Ready.” His hands mirrored hers poised to release his pants. “Set,” she continued. “Go!”

She began stripping of her shorts while her gaze remained fixed on him. Her lips parted as he drew down the zipper to his jeans, allowing his pants to sink low on his hips, offering a glimpse of his blue boxer briefs.

He knelt down to untie his boots. She pushed her shorts over her hips and . . .

Oh shit, I should have worn the Converse.

With her cutoff jean shorts around her thighs, she was going to have a hard time getting her cowgirl boots off.

He pulled his shoes off, stood and stripped off his pants. Wearing his boxers and a hard-­on she was dying to explore, he placed his hands on his hips. “Not moving too fast there, are you?”

She drew her shorts back up. Should she bend over and pull them off, her bare breasts falling forward? Sitting down and wrestling with her shoes might extinguish the come-­and-­get-­me vibe that she’d tried to cultivate.

“Need a hand?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.

“Yes.” She selected option C—­lean back against the retired mechanical bull and place her palms flat on the saddle for balance. With her chest thrust out, she lifted one foot and extended her leg to his waiting hands. He pulled her boot off and tossed it aside. Then they repeated the process with the second one.

Her second boot hit the cushion and she released the bull. She tugged at her shorts. Stupid, stupid hips. She glanced down and tried to quickly maneuver out of her clothes.

“I win,” he announced.

She looked up and caught him holding his underwear. She heard his boxer briefs hit the cushion, but she didn’t look to see where they landed. Maybe the kittens would drag them off and hide them. She certainly didn’t want him pulling them back on and covering up seven, maybe eight, long hard and thick inches.

“Wow,” she murmured still not looking up from his erection. “You know this doesn’t feel like a loss.”

“You could claim second place if you stop staring long enough to take off the rest of your clothes. It’s not like I have anything you haven’t seen before.”

Was it her imagination or did he sound a little embarrassed?

“Well . . .”

Five years ago, I didn’t stop to stare. I was too caught up in the fantasy.

“How about I help you?” He closed the space between them and reached for her shorts. He guided them over her hips and abandoned them at her feet. Then he returned for her panties. He lowered down on one knee.

“Place your right foot in the stirrup and hold on to that bull,” he ordered. “I’m going to take you for the ride I’ve been dreaming about all day.”

You first. But then his fingers wrapped around her ankle and guided her foot into the stirrup and she forgot to protest.

The bottom of her foot brushed the worn leather His hand continued up her leg. He pressed against her inner thigh as his other hand wrapped around her hip, holding her in place. His mouth followed his touch and he trailed kisses higher and higher . . .

“Noah,” she gasped as her head fell back. The tip of her ponytail touched the top of the bull’s saddle and she closed her eyes.

Again he’d hit the X-­marks-­the-­spot place on her body. He’d offered a naked kiss that promised her first orgasm with a man in more months than she wanted to count. His tongue glided over her as his hand abandoned his hold on her hip and moved between her legs.