He leaned against the edge of the dresser,
savoring her with those alluring eyes, looking mighty fine. “Dusty’s an
interesting name for a girl. Is that a nickname?”
“I guess
my dad wanted a boy, but instead he got me.” She set the bottle down, cleared a
spot on the desk then lifted herself up to sit.
“I have a
feeling you gave your dad a run for his money.” One thick brow popped up over
those twinkling eyes.
“I
certainly surprised him a time or two. He was your traditional male role model.
You know the type. A penis makes you a man and a vagina makes you good with
your hands in the kitchen.” She lifted the bottle, taking another nip, starting
to feel very relaxed.
“Do you
cook?”
“Does
boiling water count?” She wiped the back of her hand across her lips. “I’m not
much for cooking or baking, but then, I never tried. I was a bit rebellious.”
“Oh, you
had something to prove, huh? Always doing the complete opposite of what was
expected of you.”
“A woman can do anything a man can do,
sometimes better.” She crossed her legs and leaned back on her hands. “I
haven’t ever needed a man, except for one thing.” Did she hear a low growl from
him when she pointedly dropped her gaze to his zipper?
“Ah, come on. We’re
good at loosening tight lids on jars and saving beautiful women from bastards.”
“I have
one of those handy dandy rubber gadgets. Works like a charm. And eventually I
would have saved myself from Griff. You were definitely a bonus though.”
“How
about plunging toilets? I haven’t met a woman yet who likes that task.”
“I have
the plumber’s number on speed dial. You’ll have to try harder than that,
Cowboy.”
“Is that
a challenge?” he asked.
“If you
see fit. I’ve always liked a challenge myself.” Against her better judgement
she took another drink.
His grin
widened. “I’m not surprised. So, Dusty…” he said her name with an even drawl
that made her toes curl. “What’s your last name?”
“Why
don’t we keep some things a mystery.” She found it quite satisfying teasing
him. The verbal foreplay was an absolute turn on.
“Now
how’s that fair? You know my full name, my brother, and a few of my secrets.”
With a
casual shrug, she handed over the bottle for him to drink. In the golden
candlelight his eyes were a shade darker, like the sky before a rainfall. “We
both know we didn’t come back here to talk, Cowboy.” He passed the bottle
again. She licked a droplet of whiskey off her top lip as she pulled it away
from her mouth.
He
tilted his head, resting his cheek against his broad shoulder. “So why are we
here, Dusty-no-last-name? As far as Alamo is concerned, we’ve already served him
a dose of reality. I could leave now and it wouldn’t change what he thinks.” He
hooked his thumbs in his front pockets.
There
were moments in every woman’s life when she had to decide whether to go big or
go home. And Wales Dawson—she moseyed her gaze down those wide shoulders and
tight-fitting Wranglers—was big.
“I’d
like to get comfortable.” She hopped off the desk, twirled on the heels of her
boots, and lifted her hair. “Can you do me a favor and unzip me?”
Did she hear the hiss of his breath as the air left his lungs?
The tips of his rough fingers
met her skin and although she expected it, she still gave a little jerk. Her
body was ultra-sensitive. She liked being high on desire and having raw need
coursing through her, warmer than the whiskey—warmer than anything she’d
experienced. Being that she’d never strayed from her rules of having no contact
with the cowboys, she’d never invited one back to her room and flirted without
a care.
No comments:
Post a Comment