The memory of his hands on my skin comes to the forefront of my mind. His mouth on my skin flashes next. His tongue against mine. Ugh.It’s all so fucking amazing.
“Good enough to make me consider getting a few more rounds in before I give it up.” I slap my hand over my eyes and run it down over my mouth. “But I won’t.”
I’m strong enough. Probably. I’ll just march home, and when he gets there, I’ll tell him. No more hooking up. Simple. Easy. And he’ll be totally fine because this is casual, and it’s not a big deal to him.
And that will be that. At least, I’m pretty sure.
CHAPTER 16
WAYLON
Ridge dropsme off in my driveway. I had to leave my car at the bar. Ha, that rhymes. I possibly had a couple drinks too many. But it’s fine. Ridge had like one beer and then switched to water so he drove all of us home. Apparently, getting engaged makes you infinitely more responsible.
I jiggle the key into the lock, which takes me longer than I want to admit. Tater barks from the other side as I open the door and step inside. Scanning the room, my eyes land on Lyric, who’s sitting on the edge of the counter with a pint of ice cream in one hand and a spoon to her mouth in the other. Man, she looks good.
“Hello, darlin’,” I say as I saunter over. At least, I think I’m sauntering. I could just be zigzagging like a loose bobblehead doll.
“Don’t call me that.” Her tone is sharp, but that’s nothing new.
I come around the corner of the island to stand in front of her. “Can I have a taste?”
She pulls the spoon from the pint and turns it around to reveal a nearly empty carton. There’s maybe a single spoonful in the bottom.
“Sorry, cowboy,” she says, then shrugs her shoulders at me.
She’s not sorry. But it doesn’t matter to me.
“That’s not what I meant.” I place a hand on each of her knees and push them open. She’s wearing a long black flowy skirt that I think she called “peasant” but I could be wrong. And her top is this wispy black lace tank top that shows the smallest sliver of her stomach. So. Hot.
I pull the hem of her skirt up and begin bunching the fabric up. My knuckles drag over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs as I bite my bottom lip.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood,” she says.
“Are you sure?” My fingertips graze slightly higher, and I watch the muscles in her throat bob up and down.
She sets her spoon and empty pint down, then reaches for my hands. She stills them, holding them in place but not pushing them away.
“How bad do you want it?” Lyric’s eyebrows perk up, her mouth hanging open slightly, lips so pouty and pink.
I lean in to kiss them, but she pulls back.
“Answer,” she says.
“Real bad.”
Lyric presses her palm into my chest, pushing me back half a step.
“Show me.” She leans back on her hands, shifting her weight. “Beg.”
I remove my cowboy hat from my head and place it on hers. I’m not one to shy away from a challenge. And I’ve certainly never been too proud to beg.
I kneel in front of her—one knee and then the other—then gently trail my fingertips from her ankles to her knees. And I don’t break eye contact.
“Please…” I place a kiss on the inside of her knee. “Let…” I kiss the other knee… “Me…” I grip her thighs and scoot her closer to the edge of the counter. “Taste…” I wrap my arms beneath her legs and sink my hands into the flesh of her perfect ass. “Your…” Another kiss on her thigh. “Perfect…” Another kiss. “Sweet…” I kiss the edge of her panties… “Pussy…”
Lyric is breathing hard, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she pants. Her head is thrown back, but she hasn’t given me permission yet. So I take my index finger and glide it over the front of her panties.
I groan. “Mmm, you’re already wet.”
