“Salt and lime?” the bartender asked.
“Salt rim on the margarita, a slice of orange and a dash of cinnamon for the shot, please,” she called back, smiling.
Travis’s eyebrows shot up, nodding when the bartender turned to him. “Tall PBR and the same for a shot, please.”
When the bartender had turned away, Roxy smiled over at him, where he’d settled into one of the barstools next to her. He was angled toward her, his knees spread wide, one boot heel hooked on the rung of the stool, his knee bent. She angled toward, unable to stay away, situating her legs between his knees. “Have you had cinnamon on an orange with tequila before?” When he shook his head, she grinned, leaning forward slightly. “It’s fucking delicious. You’ll never go back.”
When their drinks arrived, Travis asked for menus, which showed up seconds later. Roxy took a pull of her margarita, scanning the menu. The bartender was quick to take their order, and then Travis turned toward her.
He took a drink of his beer, then lifted the shooter of gold tequila in one hand, holding the slice of orange with a dusting of cinnamon in the other. Roxy grinned, reaching for her own. Clinking her shot glass against his, she lifted it to her mouth, tossing the tequila back at the same time Travis did. They both lifted the orange slices to their mouths, biting off the sweet citrus.
When he had swallowed, Roxy beamed. “Well?”
He nodded, his brows going up in surprise. “Fucking delicious. Although—” he muttered, shifting forward in his seat, clasping her around the back of the neck with one large hand, “—I’d much rather taste it off your tongue, Red.” His eyes searched hers, her mouth dropping open in shock. They were mere inches apart. “I told you I’m going to kiss you. And I’m tired of fighting this, baby girl.”
A jostling shove at her back by another bar patron had her falling forward, and with his hand still clasping the nape ofher neck, he guided her mouth to his. They pressed, light and tentative, before he opened his mouth and beckoned for her to do the same.
He rubbed his open lips across hers, once, twice, before she opened her own, inviting him in. They shared breaths for a moment, neither one of them daring to move, and then his mouth slanted over hers, pressing. At the first taste of his tongue on hers, she knew nothing would ever be this good. He tasted of orange and cinnamon and tequila and she moaned into his mouth, drinking him in as she kissed him back. Her hands cradled his bearded jaw, her fingernails scratching lightly at the trimmed facial hair that covered his cheeks and jaw, and he growled into her mouth. His kiss deepened, tongue swiping through her mouth over and over again. Fuck. She felt his kiss all the way to her toes.
She didn’t want to stop, but a wolf whistle sounded and they broke apart, grinning against each other’s mouths. He pecked another kiss to her lips, then pulled back, leaning back in his seat. She was so wet she was aching, and when he adjusted himself in his jeans, she blushed. Allowing her gaze to drop to his lap, she licked her lips, imagining what lay behind that zipper. She could see the outline of him, hard and straining against the material of his jeans.
He tilted her face up with a finger under her chin. His eyes were hot on hers. “I swear to god if you lick your lips like that again while staring at my dick, we’re not going to make it through dinner, baby girl.”
Thirty
Her breath left her in a whoosh as she stared at him. Travis groaned, shaking his head. “Dammit, Roxy.”
He was seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the bar and back to their motel room when the bartender showed back up with their food. Fuck, he wanted her so bad it hurt. But he wanted her for more than just tonight; he wanted her for so much longer than just tonight. He reminded himself how bad of an idea it was to start something with her now, now that they only had days left… but when she looked up at him with those gold and jade eyes, he knew the fight was over. He had lost. Had possibly never even stood a chance against this bombshell before him.
They ate, shoulder to shoulder, much like they had that morning at her kitchen counter. It felt like a lifetime ago, when it had only been hours. So much had changed in those hours since. He knew he would never be the same, not after her. She was like a tornado; she had ripped through his life and tossed all of the neatly compartmentalized pieces of his existence into complete and utter chaos. And he didn’t care. He didn’t want to go back to that life. He would follow her, wherever she decided to go. Hewas irretrievably caught in her gravitational pull. Sucked right in and powerless to get out.
When Roxy pushed her mostly empty plate away and requested a second shot, he ordered one, too. They didn’t kiss after this one, though he very strongly considered it. A light flush had crept up her chest and cheeks, from the alcohol and the temperature in the crowded bar, he was sure. When she’d come out of that motel bathroom in the tight as sin tank top with no fucking bra on, he’d had to adjust himself in his jeans. Her nipples had poked through the material while they’d stood in the room, the AC having cooled the room enough to not be wholly stifling. It had taken all of his considerable will-power not to drag the neckline of the tank top down and feast on her right then.
Cole Swindell’s‘Flatliner’ started, booming over the sound system, and Roxy grinned, taking his hand in her own. “Dance with me.”
He laughed out loud, but let her pull him out of his chair and out to the crowded dance floor. They found an empty spot, and Roxy caught up with the steps with ease. Her boot heels stomped and clacked, her fiery curls bouncing around her shoulders as she moved. Her wide, unrestrained smile was everything, and he was once again powerless against her. His gaze followed every move she made, and when she laughed, it cracked something in his chest wide open.Alan Jackson’s‘Good Time’ began, and the steps picked up in pace. He liked best when they faced the same direction, he thoroughly enjoyed watching her ass in front of him as she moved. Dropping into a crouch on one beat, she bounced back up in the next, kicking her feet out one at a time before spinning to face the next wall.
Josh Turner’s‘Be Your Man’ queued up, the deep bass of the singer’s voice reverberating around them. Dancers on either side of them partnered up. A cowboy with a black hat and grayinghorseshoe mustache stepped toward Roxy, but Travis glared at the ballsy cowboy and hauled Roxy into his arms, until their chests were pressed close. She smiled up at him, those gold and jade eyes flashing with laughter and joy.
She grinned up at him, then reached up with one hand, pulling his cowboy hat off his head. Placing it on her own head, she winked up at him in challenge.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” he asked roughly, his mouth grazing over the shell of her ear. “Wearing my hat?”
She licked her lips, staring up at him and then nodded, whispering breathlessly, “Yes, Travis.”
He growled low in his throat, banding one arm around her waist, bringing her body flush with his. His mouth found her throat, just for a heartbeat, and then he pushed her away, turning her to face forward. She glanced at him over her shoulder, from beneath the brim ofhisfucking cowboy hat on her head, the hat that now claimed her ashis. She settled into his embrace, and the next second they were moving around the dance floor along with the other couples.
Their movements together were effortless; Roxy moved with a grace that never ceased to leave him in awe as her hand found his once again as they made another circle around the dance floor. She was admittedly much better than he was, but you didn’t spend a large chunk of your adult life in Texas and not know a few line dancing basics. She grinned over at him and bit her lip, the silent question in her eyes. He nodded, and then she spun under his arm and away, their fingers linked and arms outstretched. He snatched the hat off her head, replacing it on his own as she did a little shimmy, and he laughed out loud.
He pulled her back into him then, flush against his own body as his arm slid around her waist, hand splayed wide between her shoulder blades, supporting her as he dipped her low. Time seemed to slow, the blaring music fading around them, the noiseof so many other people dancing around them disappearing altogether, until it was just the two of them. As if no one else existed in the room in that moment.
Her leg that was not pressed against his lap lifted and without a conscious thought, his hand was sliding down the curve of her hip and along the expanse of bare thigh below the short cutoff jean shorts. His fingers curled into the groove at the back of her knee, lifting it nearly to his waist, his heart hammering like a drum in his chest, and he stared down at her as she let her head tip back with the dip. Her fiery curls cascaded over her shoulders toward the floor. He tracked the way her eyes closed, the carefree, wide smile that pulled at her lips, the arch of her throat.
The low-cut tank top did little to hide the swell of her breasts and he was transfixed by a dot of sweat that rolled down between them, disappearing beneath the fabric. His cock ached painfully behind the fly of his jeans and he wanted nothing more than to follow that bead of sweat with his tongue.
In the next second, time sped up again, pulling him from the intimate moment as she lowered her leg back to the floor, her body straightening as she came back up from the low dip. His mouth tracked along the curve of her throat and the underside of her jaw as she came up, which caused her to suck in a tremulous breath, and he was done for. The sound of that little gasp ricocheted through his brain like a gunshot.
She spun away, doing two rapid turns on her boot heels before returning to his arms, but her eyes were wide, her lips parted with short, staccato breaths that went straight to his dick. Pressing his palm between her shoulder blades, he urged her closer, feet still moving them around the dance floor. His other hand disappeared into the hair at the back of her head, fingers sliding through the curls. Their eyes locked, and he was incapable of looking away from those green and gold depths. Inthe semi-darkness of the dance hall, with only the occasional flash of a revolving stage light to break up the shadows, it was easy to pretend they were alone in the crowded hall.
