by Dylann Crush
She bent over to place her ball on the green. Dammit, she needed to stop doing that. Maybe mini-golf was a bad idea. How could he keep her from flashing her chest every time she moved?
“Like this?” Wide green eyes peered up at him.
He tore his gaze away from where a silver pendant dangled between her breasts. “Yeah, now stand up and take a swing at it.” Wrapping his hand around her elbow, he guided her to a standing position. The sooner the better too.
“So how do I hold this?” Dixie held the grip in one hand, more like a baseball bat.
“Stand to the side, just like I did.” He demonstrated, keeping his distance from the strawberries and the distracting cleavage.
Dixie shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “Do I keep my feet together or apart? Sorry”—she graced him with a smile—“I wasn’t paying attention when you took your turn.”
“What? That was like one of the best shots I’ve ever had. Look how close to the hole I got it.” He pointed to the ball, sitting mere inches from the cup.
“Yep, very impressive. Do you want to help me out here, or should I just whack it?”
He took in a deep breath. A cleansing breath. A breath that was meant to empower him and keep him from being affected by the sheer proximity of Dixie Mae King, especially when she kept flashing her cleavage and saying words like ball and offering to “whack” things. Then he stepped close, put an arm on either side of her, and nestled his front against her backside.
“What’s this?” She tried to turn to face him.
He forced the slam of indecent thoughts from his brain. “Focus on the ball. Now wrap your hands around the grip.”
She bent at the waist, sliding her hands under his to hold the metal of the putter.
“Not the shaft—take hold of it by the grip.” It was bad enough her gorgeous ass pressed into his crotch, making him painfully aware of their closeness. Now he had to use words like shaft and grip. Good God, someone up above was punishing him for past transgressions.
Dixie’s hands moved to the grip. He put his over hers and nudged her feet apart with his boot. With his arms snuggled tightly around her, the scent of strawberries washed over him. He tucked his cheek against hers, relishing the feel of her soft skin on his.
“Are we going to hit the ball?” she whispered.
Damn, how long had they been standing there, back to front, cheek to cheek?
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Just pull back a little and hit it square in the middle.” He guided her swing, letting her lead with the follow-through.
The ball bounced over the edge of the green and landed in a man-made pond of water.
“Oh no.” Dixie’s shoulders sagged. “I’ve lost my ball. What do we do now?”
Presley reluctantly released her from his arms. “Don’t worry, Red. I’ll get you another one.” He took his time walking back to the putt shack, taking the opportunity to breathe in some fresh air. Air not tainted by the arousing scent of Dixie Mae King. What the hell had he gotten himself into?
She waited at the hole, a hand cocked on her hip. “I think I’ll try this one on my own.”
“Good idea.” Presley didn’t think he could handle sidling up against her again.
She set up her shot, swung, and managed to keep the ball on the green. It bounced over the horseshoes and stopped a couple of feet behind his.
“See? It’s not as hard as you make it sound.” A smug grin covered her face.
“Oh, you think you can beat me now, huh?”
Her shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Maybe.”
“You willing to wager on it?”
“What, like a bet?” Eyes narrowed, she spun her putter around in her fingers.
“Yeah, like a bet. We’ll play nine holes. If I have the lowest score, I win. If you get the lowest score, you win.”
She tilted her head to one side. “What do I win?”
He closed the distance between them. Lowering his voice a notch, he mumbled close to her ear, “What do you want?”
Her body stiffened next to him. “I don’t know. What are you good at?”
A low rumble of laughter shook his chest. “Oh, darlin’, you sure you want to know?”
She took a step back, her cheeks flushed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Flirting 101, you should have meant it like that. When you’re out with SoCal tomorrow, let the innuendos and double entendres fly, okay?”
Dixie nodded. “I’ll try. What do you want if you win?”
He tapped his finger against his lip. “Hmm, that’s a tough one.” If he’d been betting against Sierra or April or any one of the gals he’d dated in the past, he’d insist on some time between the sheets. But he had to be careful with Dixie. He couldn’t afford to go there again. That searing kiss she’d laid on him the other night had taunted him for days.
“Dinner. If I win, I want you to make me dinner. Home cooking with all the fixings. Sound fair?” He raised a brow while he waited for her response.
“Fine.” She nodded.
“So what do you want?” He lined up to take his shot.
“Can I think about it?”
“You bet. Won’t matter anyway. I don’t intend to lose.” He tapped the ball, and it rolled into the hole. If he could keep this up, he’d be well on his way to a home-cooked meal.
Dixie sunk her putt as well. Tied. Maybe this wouldn’t be as easy as he thought.
By the time she completed the ninth hole, he was three shots in the lead. As long as he kept his ball on the green and didn’t do something stupid, that homemade dinner would be his. He could almost taste the victory: brisket, barbecue beans, fresh-baked rolls, and something sweet for dessert.
“You ever figure out what you’re playing for?” He wiggled his hips from side to side, getting ready to tee off. “What are you giving up when I get a hole in one here?”
She tiptoed close. The scent of strawberries he’d been trying to avoid tickled his nose. “It’s embarrassing,” she whispered against his ear.
What could she want that would be embarrassing? Did she need help applying some sort of rash cream in a delicate area? Need him to play the heavy to somebody who owed her money? Not likely. Whatever Dixie thought was embarrassing he’d be able to handle, especially since she had no chance of winning.
He refocused on the ball in front of him. As he swung the putter back, ready to hit the ball, she spoke. “Sex. If I win, I want you to take my virginity.”
* * *
Dixie wrapped her arms around her waist and pressed her back against the passenger-side door. Presley hadn’t said a word to her as he paid for their golf. The final score sheet sat on the console between them. He hadn’t filled in his score from the last hole, but they both knew she’d won.
She hadn’t decided yet if her victory would go down as sweet or tragic. That would probably depend on whether Presley came through on his end of the deal. Based on the way he white-knuckled the steering wheel and the way his dark eyes glared out at the world from under the brim of his hat, it didn’t look good.
Obviously it would be up to her to break the silence. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you with—”
“Surprise?” Sarcasm leeched from his voice. “Grabbing my ass would have surprised me. You do realize there’s no way I can keep up my end of the bet, right?”
She chewed on her lip while she contemplated the best way to respond. “You said yourself it’s best to practice. To get the warm-up out of the way so I don’t make a fool out myself when it comes time for the real thing.”
He slammed the gear shift into what she now recognized as fourth. “We were talking about kissing.”
“Riiiiiiiiiiight…” Dixie drew out the word. “But after kissing comes the other stuff.”
With one eye on the road, he twi
sted to glare at her. “I know plenty about the other stuff.”
“I know.” She toyed with the handle of her purse. “That’s why I want it to be you.”
“Can you imagine what your dad would do to me? What Cash and Waylon and, holy hell, even Charlie would do to me if they found out about this? I value my body parts, darlin’, all of them, and I refuse to be deprived of any of them if someone were to catch wind of this.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” She reached over to put her hand on his arm. “I’m twenty-seven years old…way past the age I thought I would be when I lost it.”
He grunted. “I figured you were saving yourself.”
“I might have been at one time. But since my dad pretty much guaranteed no one in Holiday would come near me, I’ve decided I’d rather just get it over with.”
“Yeah, I heard about the Hernandez kid.”
Dixie slumped lower in her seat. “Everyone’s heard about that. He made sure he warned every guy within a fifty-mile radius not to dare hook up with me for fear of my father.”
“Why didn’t he do the same with Liza?”
“He couldn’t.” She blew out a laugh. “Liza tore out of here as soon as she graduated high school. Came back a few years later pregnant with Bea. How old were you when you did it for the first time?”
“It?” He shrugged off her hand. “You can’t even say it.” He eased the Jeep to a stop on the side of the two-lane highway. “Dixie, I’m flattered, really I am. But this is going way too far.”
She bit her lip again, noticing the way he drew in a breath and stared at her mouth. This, this right here is what he’d been trying to teach her to do with Chandler. Play up her feminine wiles. If it would work on Chandler, maybe it would work on him too.
Fighting back her nerves, she twisted in her seat to face him while she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Does that mean you don’t find me”—she stumbled over the word, forcing it past her lips—“attractive?”
“No.” His hands went to his head, lifting his hat and funneling through his hair. “Hell no, it’s not about that at all.”
She unclipped her seat belt. “Then what is it?” Leaning over the center console, she nudged her nose into his ear. “I promise not to tell anyone.”
“Why me?” He turned his head. Their noses bumped. His gaze searched hers, looking for an answer.
Her hand worked its way past the buttons on his short-sleeve shirt. She found her way past the T-shirt he had on underneath. Pressed flat against his stomach, her hand caressed the ridges of well-toned abs. “Because you know what you’re doing. And I know you’ll keep it between us.”
“Dixie…”
She met his lips with hers. “I trust you, Presley.”
His eyes closed, and he nodded. “I’m going to regret this.”
“I won’t,” she promised. Then she brushed his lips with hers again. While her hand explored the planes of his chest, her tongue danced over his. A thrill swept over her. She’d waited long enough. Besides, if she was going to play the femme fatale, she ought to have the experience to go along with it.
Presley broke the kiss by gently nudging her back to her seat. “You sure you want to do this?”
She nodded.
“Dammit.” His hands scrubbed over his chin. “Then let’s get to it before I come to my senses.”
Smiling, Dixie bounced back into her seat and clipped her seat belt. “Thanks so much.”
He shook his head. “This is crazy. I’ve got a really bad feeling about this, Red.”
“That’s probably the chili dog you ate around hole four that’s talking. Everything’s going to be fine.” A giddiness she wasn’t expecting bubbled up inside. Kind of like when she’d drunk the carbonated water straight out of the soda dispenser at the Rose.
Presley didn’t speak again until they’d stopped in front of his place. Even though it sat on the Walker ranch, Dixie had never been there before.
“This is nice.”
He opened the front door and ushered her inside. “I don’t typically bring women back to my place.”
Dixie set her purse down on the table by the front door. “Then don’t think of me as a woman.”
“This is going to be a hell of a lot awkward if I can’t think of you as a woman, you know.”
She giggled, apparently unable to contain her nervousness over the situation she’d chosen to put herself in. “I suppose.”
He dropped his keys into a Texas-shaped ceramic bowl. “I’m sorry to keep beating a dead dog, but I need to ask one more time.”
Dixie met his gaze. The cocky cowboy was gone. Presley’s eyes reflected uncertainty. “I’m sure about this. I promise.”
He nodded then removed his hat and set it on the table. “I’ve done some pretty strange stuff and found myself in some downright dangerous situations over the years, but this right here takes the cake.”
“So where should we do it? Here?” She flounced down on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. “This seems comfortable enough.”
Presley shook his head. “It’s your first time. I’m not going to take you on the couch.”
“Oh.” Her tummy twinged. Maybe she should have thought this all the way through.
Presley stalked toward her, removing his boots as he came closer. “It was pretty hot out there playing golf.”
“Mm-hmm,” Dixie agreed.
“What do you say we take a nice shower to cool off first?”
Now that he mentioned it, she had worked up a little bit of a sheen while she swung the putter and tried to beat him in mini-golf. “If that’s what you think is best.”
He held out a hand to help her off the couch. “Come on, this way.”
She took it, letting him lead her into his bedroom. At the sight of his king-sized bed, her heart did a somersault in her chest. A red, blue, and khaki quilt stretched over the top. He paused as they entered the bathroom to grab two giant towels from the linen closet.
“I like the quilt on your bed. Did your mom make it?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If we’re going to go through with this, you can’t do that.”
“What?”
“Bring up my mother in conversation right before we have sex.”
Her gaze dropped to the floor. His white athletic socks looked out of place against the slate-colored tile on his bathroom floor. She kept her eyes trained on the little green line that designated the toe area on his left foot. “I’m sorry.”
“Come here.” He set the towels on the counter and pulled her close.
Her body stiffened at the initial contact, but then she relaxed into him. She wanted this. He was doing this for her. The least she could do was try to keep his mother out of it.
His hand climbed up her spine to cradle the back of her head. She tilted her face, matching her mouth to his. A shiver of anticipation tingled its way up the entire length of her body from her toes to the top of her head. She stamped out the doubt and deepened the kiss. He responded, pressing her back against the bathroom vanity.
Her backside hit the granite, and she lifted her hips to slide onto the counter. He nudged her legs apart. Her skirt bunched around her thighs as he nestled his hips between them. His kisses moved from her mouth to her neck. Tiny sparks danced across her skin everywhere he touched. Her breasts felt heavy, swollen with lust, she thought to herself. She almost giggled, but then his hands found their way under her ruffled crinoline, and her lungs seized.
“You okay?” Presley paused, barely lifting his lips from where they’d settled on her collarbone.
Rendered mute by the sensations rocking through her body, she nodded. He lowered his head, flicking his tongue along her breastbone then lower to the bodice of her haltered sundress.
Her head rolled back as he dipped his tongue in the cleft betwe
en her breasts. His hands continued to inch their way up her thighs. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, trying to get him to lift his head. She needed his lips on hers in the worst way.
Instead, he pulled his hands away, raising them behind her neck to untie the halter of her dress. She reached behind her and unzipped the back. He didn’t say a word. He didn’t have to. The heat in his eyes told her everything she needed to know. As the straps of the sundress fell to the side and the front of her dress peeled away from her chest, Presley grinned.
Chapter Nineteen
Miles of unexplored skin waited for his touch. Presley’s conscience bounced back and forth—he shouldn’t be doing this. But she’d asked for it. If he didn’t go through with it, would she tap SoCal for the favor? Or some other guy who might hit on her at the Rose? She deserved to be treated like the goddess she was. He wanted her first experience to be memorable—to set the bar for everything that would come after.
He trailed his tongue along her breastbone, savoring the taste of her skin. Her moans turned him on more than he expected, more than a woman’s response had in quite some time. He needed to slow things down.
“Hey, Dixie?”
“Mmm?” With her eyes closed, leaning back against the mirror, she looked more like she was ready for a nap than a night of hard-core lovin’.
“How about that shower?” He reached behind him to turn on the faucet.
Before he had a chance to reach it, her eyes eased open. “I don’t want to put you out.”
He furrowed his brow. “You afraid my water bill will get out of control?”
She grinned. “No. But you have to work tomorrow, and I need to get home to Gram. It’s already ten thirty.”
“Are you going to turn into a pumpkin?”
“No.” She swatted at his chest.
“Got a curfew?”
“No. But we both have to get up early tomorrow. Maybe we should just get it over with?”
“Hey, if you’ve changed your mind…” He tilted his head, waiting for a response.
“No. Definitely not.”
