But she’s too close, breath too warm, too soft, and it damn near does me in. “Ain’t tellin’ you,” I growl, face schooled—though I’d be grinning like a fool if it was just her and me.
She lifts her eyebrows, mischief sparking. “Afraid I’ll give you away again?”
“Afraid you’ll have me stripped down to my drawers.”
That does it. She bursts out laughing again, and the sound feels like heaven. I grin too, can’t help it now, though I keep my face down toward the cards.
Next hand, I bet too much, too fast. One man calls, another raises. Alice squirms in my lap, and hell if I can think straight with her pressed against me like that. When the cards fall, I’m beat clean. Pot swept away.
“Damn it,” I mutter, pushing back from the table.
She blinks up at me, brows knit. “Did you lose?”
I let out a humorless chuckle. “Lost near everything but you sittin’ here.”
I drop the last of my coin on the table for the next round of whiskey. The barkeep’s quick to oblige, glass sliding my way. I take it down hard, heat burning through the hollow ache of losing.
Alice touches my arm, tentative. “Maybe that’s enough for tonight.”
“Not near enough,” I mutter, reaching for the bottle instead of the glass.
The room blurs, edges go soft, the sharpest thing is her weight against me. I tip my head close, my lips brushing her ear as I slur, “Reckon I’d lose my shirt—hell, my boots too—just to keep you sittin’ there laughin’ on me.”
She smells like lemon and sunshine. Goddamn, I’m a patient son of a bitch. Travelled with this woman clear ’cross hell’s half acre, never stole more than a kiss. A sweet shine glistens on her neck, the hollow of her throat. Summer heat blesses me with her womanly perfume. Lamplight catches a wet bead an inch below her ear, teasing the corner of her jaw. God help me, but thinking on it’s got me hard as steel. Reckon she can feel it. I can’t help it. Some things can’t be explained; they just are. Beasts wild roaming across the country to find salt.
“Somethin’ ’bout you…a man goes mad for it,” I mumble. “Like a beast cravin’ salt.”
Sounded better in my head.
A confused expression falls over her, and I hold her hips. Bending close, I drag my tongue slow, starting at the corner of her jaw, along the curve of her neck, taste the scent of lemon on her skin and the salt the day’s heat left behind. As I taste her, I hold her firm, grinding rough against her. If she didn’t feel me before, she feels me now.
She jerks, a sharp little sound tearing from her throat. Her hand lashes out, flat across my mouth, and the slap stings hot as a wasp bite. Heads swivel. A few men hoot.
“How dare you do such a thing in public?” she spits, wrenching herself out of my lap. “Or anywhere for that matter.”
My grin’s stupid and slow in the wake of her outrage. I rub my mouth where her hand landed, more tickled than scolded. “Ain’t my fault you taste like summer.”
I keep my hands where they can be seen, flat on the table.
The barkeep coughs from behind the counter. “Room upstairs if you two need privacy.”
Alice stiffens beside me. “We need nothing of the sort.” Her hands clutch her skirts like she could scrub away what just happened. She’s scandalized near to death, and hell if I don’t want to scandalize her more.
I tip back the last of my whiskey and slam the glass on the table. “Room sounds right.”
Alice’s head snaps to me, eyes blazing. “You?—”
The barkeep’s already got the key in his hand. “Two bits. Pay up or sleep in the street.”
“Come on, Alice. I’m piss-drunk; you wanna see me mount up? Cain’t feel my knees n’you want me to set up a tent or some fool thing?”
“You are the fool, Mr. Randolph.”
“Sure as hell am. I am a fool, an’ it’s you who I’m a fool for.”
Alice fumbles in her purse, drops the coins into his palm. She grabs my arm, hauling me toward the stairs. Small as she is, her scorn drags me up easy.
Upstairs, the hall’s dim, one oil lamp flickering on the wall. Alice marches us to the door, shoves the key into the lock, kicks it open. The room’s plain—iron bed, thin quilt, one chair, basin in the corner.
