“June.” I match her inflection perfectly.
“We’re in public.”
“I know.” I breathe her in again, letting my nose trail along the curve of her neck.
“Doesn’t change what I want to do to you.”
“You’re such a tease.”
“I want to eat you.” The words come out low and rough, barely audible over the noise of the crowd. “Want to spread you out and taste every inch of you until you’re shaking.”
She shivers against me, and I feel the tremor all the way down my spine.
“How do you hold on to any control?” she asks, her voice slightly breathless now.
“Who says it’s working?”
“You’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”
“Barely.” I press a kiss to her cheek, lingering there, letting my lips drag across her skin.
“So you enjoy teasing me, is that it?”
She turns her head, those hazel eyes sparkling. “I admit, I do enjoy seeing you all worked up.”
“You know this is just going to make me more crazy.”
“More than you already are? Impossible?”
I nod slowly, holding her gaze. “You have no idea. Right now, I’m so hungry for you I could do anything.”
She laughs, bright and warm, and her hand lands on my thigh. It’s a casual gesture. Friendly, even. But the moment her palm makes contact with my leg, every nerve ending in my body lights up.
“You’ll be fine,” she says.
I will absolutely not.
Her fingers are just sitting there. Not moving, not stroking, just resting against my thigh, and somehow that simple touch has my cock throbbing, straining against my jeans, desperate for attention it’s not going to get. Not here, anyway.
I try to focus on the arena and watch the next cowboy settle into the chute. But my attention keeps drifting back to June, to the curve of her shoulder where I left a mark not long ago, to those goddamn legs that are going to be the death of me.
She shifts beside me, uncrossing and recrossing them, and the movement causes her skirt to ride up another inch. I catch a glimpse of smooth inner thigh, the shadow where the fabric ends, and my imagination goes into overdrive.
What is she wearing under there? Those little lace things she seems to favor? Something simpler? Nothing at all?
The last thought makes me groan out loud.
“What?” June glances at me, confused.
“Nothing.” Everything. “Just thinking.”
“About?”
“Things that would get us both arrested if I said them out loud.”
She blushes, that pretty pink color spreading across her cheeks, and I want to strip her out of that top and watch the flush spread across her chest, her stomach, lower.
The announcer’s voice booms through the speakers, snapping me back to reality. “Next up, ladies and gentlemen, from the Wildfire Star Rodeo is Carter Storm!”
