Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 744(@200wpm)___ 595(@250wpm)___ 496(@300wpm)
Their eyes flick from her to my approaching body and back, the grins on their faces growing forced. Spinning my hat backward, I reach out, slide my middle finger through the loop of those jean shorts of hers and tug.
She locks herself straight, swiftly looking over her shoulder with a frown, but then she sees it’s me, and the fucking smile that spreads…
A different kind of heat presses at my chest.
I yank her harder, until her back is bumping into my front, and that velvety giggle of hers finds my ears. I bury my face in her neck, just along the hairline, below her ear, as my arms snake around her and she tips her head slightly, pressing her cheek to mine for a short moment.
Righting myself, I look straight into the man on the left’s eyes, my face blank. “Nice shirt.”
A tight chuckle leaves him. “Yeah, uh, thanks. Goes with the booth so… but hey, we should”—he clears his throat—“we should pack some things up, so it’s not such a pain in the morning. You guys enjoy your night.”
I wait for her to spin in my arms. To point a little glare my way or raise a perfectly shaped brow.
She doesn’t do either of those things.
She drops her head against my chest and takes a small sip from her cup. Unfazed. Accepting. Disconnected from the men vying for her attention and willing to give it all to me.
Just like that.
I like it.
The sound of the live band grows louder then, so I turn us toward where they’re playing, a few dozen yards away, and after a couple minutes, she begins swaying to the music, her back never once lifting from its place against my chest.
It’s not long before the sun falls behind the trees, the rest of the vendors joining in on the entertainment, and those slow sways of hers turn into full hip rolls.
Rolls that flow through her entire body.
I press my lips to her ear. “What are you doing?”
“What you taught me.”
I can hear her smile, and it prompts one of my own.
“I taught you to dance like you’re fucking? Like you fucked your hand last night?”
“Ask me what I thought about.”
Goddamn. A quick, playful response.
“Nice try, Sweets.” My words are more a needy groan than anything.
Davis’s laughter is low, tender, and I want to hear it again.
I want a lot of fucking things.
My hands press farther into her pockets, discovering they’re not pockets at all as I slip beyond the fabric, meeting and molding the slope of her warm thighs, and she doesn’t stiffen or slow. The girl keeps dancing like it’s the most natural thing, me holding her like this. Close, tight, and tipped at the edge of her panties. If I slide my hands a quarter of an inch over, my pointer fingers would rest on either side of her clit. I could make her come, right here, and no one would know it.
I want to.
I might.
“I had so much fun this weekend,” she shares. “People loved Willie’s beer. I think we’re one of the only beer vendors who sold out.”
“That’s ’cause he’s smart. He knew all these assholes would keep coming if it meant they could talk to the pretty little thing serving it to them.”
“Ha ha,” she teases, swatting at my arm, but I quickly pull one hand out, catching hers and bringing it to my mouth.
“I’m not playin’. I watched them watch you from the line, like I knew they would. Why do you think I put the tables on both sides of your booth?” I graze my teeth over her knuckles, gliding my lips from the first to the last, and instead of letting her hand fall, I lock it around my neck, grazing my jaw over the spot within reach. I haven’t shaved since Friday morning. The goose bumps rising along her skin tell me she’s got no complaints. “I did that so they couldn’t step any closer to what they want but can’t have.”
She chuckles, peeking over her shoulder with playful, narrowed eyes. “Are you trying to get fresh?”
The corner of my mouth tips up the slightest bit. “Who me?”
“No, the other man touching me.”
“No other man is allowed to touch you, Sweets.” I hold her gaze. “Not unless I say.”
She faces forward with a smile. “And you love that, don’t you?”
“Fuck yeah.” My lips hook up, my mouth running dry as I stare at the slope of her neck. The beat of the pulse there. “And now they’re watching.”
“Who?”
“Those pineapple punks.”
“It’s the backward hat. And the sleeveless tee. The tattoos. My god, the tattoos,” she teases as if I’m the attraction, reaching up to flick my hat.
“Oh, you wanna be cute, hmm?” I press her into me more. “Wrong, but cute.”
The band changes tempo, and the motions of our bodies adjust effortlessly.