“I thought you were damn sexy when you called me an asshole and put me in my place. Few people do, so I admired you for it."
“Still think I’m sexy?”
Without breaking eye contact, I reply, “Very.” Her surprised gaze connects with mine. The warmth found in her amber eyes reminds me of a sunflower on a summer day, sparkling golden flecks interspersed with tawny shades of brown.
In a voice just above a whisper, she teases, “Isn’t this where you’re supposed to say something like, 'Save ahorse, ride a cowboy?'”
We aren't touching, but she's close enough to feel like we are. Close enough for me to crave her touch, to want to feel her skin on mine. Her gaze crawls over me so powerfully that it feels physical.
The air between us crackles.
Annabelle’s tongue darts out, moistening her lips, drawing my attention to them. Pink and lush.
“Why are you staring at my mouth?” she asks, wiping her lips with her thumb.
“Because I want to kiss you." I curl my fingers through her ponytail before reaching up to pull out her hair band. Annabelle’s long, thick hair falls in messy waves over her shoulders.
With a startled inhalation, she stutters, “Oh, okay.”
Turning my body toward her, I palm the nape of her neck, inching my mouth closer and closer to hers until our lips caress in the gentlest of kisses. But that brushing kiss lights a spark within me, and I go back for more.
This time our lips collide in a raw, almost frantic neediness, and I’m lost in her taste, the feel of her supple lips, and the sounds of her mewls of desire and desperation.
Her hands explore my chest before coming to rest behind my neck. Annabelle scoots off her stool and nudges my legs further apart. Stepping between my knees, Annabelle presses her upper body against my own. Through the thin fabric of my shirt, I feel the form of her breasts against my chest, heaving with each gasp and whimper.
My lips part hers, my tongue delving in, tasting her. Savoring her. One of my hands slides down to follow the curve of her hip before resting on her perfect ass, tugging her into the cradle of my hips.
Like a lit match to kerosene, we burn hot.
“Damn, Yankee, you feel so good,” I murmur, planting light kisses along the column of her neck. My fingers roam up her body, settlingabove her waist and under her T-shirt, rubbing the sensitive skin beneath her breasts with my thumb.
She moans at the contact, and her fingers thread through my hair, steering me back to her lips.
From across the bar, a low, gruff voice yells, “Get a room!” Someone quickly follows up with, “Or don’t, and we can watch.”
With my arms still wrapped around her, I pull back to gaze at Annabelle. She looks hot as hell with her pink swollen lips, tousled hair, and dazed expression.
“What do you say? I already have a room booked for the night at the adjacent motel. Want to live a little and give in to temptation? Just for a night?”
Our relationships have recently ended. We should proceed with caution. I know it’s a bad idea, but sometimes it feels so good to be bad. Wasn’t it Mark Twain who wrote, “Be good and you’ll be lonely”? Well, I’m tired of being good and feeling lonely. I don’t care about the ramifications that could follow us into tomorrow. I only care about tonight.
And tonight, I want her in my bed. Consequences be damned.
Her eyes go wide at my explicit suggestion. Annabelle hesitates before giving me a shaky nod. “Yes?”
“Sounded more like a question than an answer, Yankee. Are you sure?” I chuckle, brushing her hair off her face and over her shoulder.
But once she’s decided, her resolve strengthens. She lifts her eyes to mine, biting her lower lip. “Fuck it, let’s do it! I think a night with you is exactly what I need, Hayes.”
Hearing her breathy voice say my name shoots a surge of lust straight to my dick.
I toss a pile of bills onto the bar to pay for our tab. Then I grab her hand and drag her out of there.
Annabelle is wearing a type of high-heeled shoe, which, while sexy, slows her down. Impatient, I pick her up and carry her across the old, pitted asphalt parking lot.
Laughing, she smacks my chest and squeals, “Put me down, Hayes!”
“Nope,” I respond, popping the P. I tighten my grip on her as I increase my pace.
