Their Ex's Redrock One

by Shirl Anders

  The next second, he opened his eyes and lowered his mouth over her soft lips, kissing her with the simple intention of making her not hurt so much. But he’d not been prepared for the feel and the incredible taste of her mouth or how soft and giving her lips were beneath his.

  She grabbed the back of his head moaning and pulling him deeper. That quick … fire ... hot and burning stroked through him. Fucking Tess Navarro could kiss. She could kiss the lips off a man who’d had no intentions of getting involved with any woman for a long, long time. Maybe years.

  And when he thought it couldn’t get any better, her tongue touched his.

  Tess nearly got up on her knees to get closer to Vincent Whitehorse, plastering her breasts against his hard chest. She’d never touched a man’s mouth that tasted so good, lips so firm, and expertly molding her lips, kissing top, bottom, and along the seam.

  She moaned against him with her nipples hardening tighter for the ride. Hot, hot, hot. She was melting and she had to go deeper. Her tongue slid forward and he growled deep in his throat vibrating her everywhere. Then his tongue plunged into her mouth and his hand fisted in her hair, at the back of her head, using that pull to guide her mouth where he wanted it. And he wanted it deep.

  So deep ... she lost her breath, quivering against him. Then he gave her breath back to her, and it filled her lungs as she panted lightly. She was leaning into him with her hands clenched onto his muscular shoulders.

  “Your eyes are black,” she whispered.

  “I’m a fucking Indian,” he growled — and boy she felt that in her nipples — then the bottle of Jack pulled between them. Vincent took a swallow, then he pressed the bottle to her lips. His burning gaze watched her drink — watching her throat, her lips, and then her eyes. She felt the heat of him against her and she wanted to rub.

  To kiss her like he did meant he had to want her. All that she’d drank, on an empty stomach, made her think it was her best idea in years.

  Badass Indian … hot.

  Thirty minutes later, with her panties on fire and Vincent nearly having them off her several times in the bar, he stalked, while she staggered beside him — toward a … she squinted.

  “Rowdies' Motel.”

  It was next to Lulu’s, and Tess wasn’t certain she knew that. But the rain had stopped and her clothes, besides her jeans and panties — that meant her bra and camisole were dry from the combustion heat between her and Vincent. The bottle of Jack, half gone, was in Vincent’s left hand, attached to the arm not corralling her body against his side.

  Tess wasn’t certain where her jacket, his duster, and hat were, and she didn’t think she cared as her hand tried to get between him and his belt and jeans over his ass.

  She would freaking show anyone she was hot enough to want!

  Vincent’s hand, cinching her to his side was playing with wicked touches, on flesh, inside the front of her jeans. His fingers stroked skin at the top of her melting panties as they walked. She wanted so desperately for his fingers to be able to get deeper inside her jeans. Way deeper.

  Abruptly his fingers left, and she whined with disappointment, swaying against him.

  “Room.” She heard him utter, and she looked up to see Finn O’Neil, former high school jock, a year ahead of her, and now undetermined possible drug lord, possible biker, possible good guy gone bad, behind the counter of Rowdie’s Motel. Finn’s black hair sported a spiked crew-cut with a wicked goatee on his chin and a tattoo trailing up the front and sides of his muscular neck.

  “You freaking own Rowdie’s!” she exclaimed, looking up at his electric green eyes staring down on her. She might have slurred her words a lot, and toppled sideways, but Vincent caught her.

  “Fucking room,” Vincent growled again, and Finn slapped a key on the counter.

  “Ten,” Finn growled back.

  Tess swayed against Vincent looking between them. There were hardass looks going on, then Vincent nodded, and swung her out the door.

  “Later, Vin,” Finn snapped behind them, then the door swung shut.

  “They call you Vin, baby,” she slurred, with her head spinning.

  “You. Call me Vincent,” he answered.

  She nodded. “Vincent baby with the smoking body and mouth made from somewhere not of this world. Oh, and badass, hot Indian.”

  Suddenly, she was lying on a bed with Vincent on top of her. “Hot Indian, huh?” His gravelly voice silenced as it settled over her mouth.

  She wiggled free of his mouth. “So hot, my panties are melting.” She swept her hand over his head to the room at large. “That never happened before.”

  He moved down her body grabbing the waist of her jeans. “Let’s see these hot panties.”

  Vincent knew he was plowed and he didn’t give a shit. Tess Navarro was one hot chick and he was going to give her multiple orgasms to cover her pain. Maybe it would fucking cover his too, because Tess’ sweet and erotic mouth kissed him right into bed.

  Until he had to have the rest of her — he had to see her — to feel her. Everything about her curvy body was driving him nuts. It lured him in, and then smacked him upside the head like a punch. When he pulled her breasts free of the lacy white bra she had on, his body went into lust overdrive. Fat, sassy, plump breasts with taut, hard nipples … he just lost himself in them for long minutes.

  Then her hips began squirming against him with heat and fire and he tugged her wet jeans off her rounded hips. Fucking-A, her panties were a tiny swatch of sexy white lace between her creamy thighs. He turned her to the side to better drag her jeans off and the sight of her bare ass made him grow two inches on his cock, hardening it to “gotta fuck now.”

  But he bit it back. He fucking had to taste her. She was voluptuous and ripe. He had to have his mouth on her and he threw her legs up over his shoulders, spreading her hot, sweet pussy.

  Tess squealed passionately at Vincent’s mouth covering her slit. She arched upward. “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

  She’d never had a man’s mouth on her before. She squealed again digging her heels into Vincent's back. He growled over her sex and she came so hard she blanked out for seconds.

  Then she came back with a prod of heat between her legs. She grabbed Vincent's sinewy shoulder with one hand and she dug the other into his thick hair as she felt him fill her full up with a thrust.

  “Vincent,” she hissed.

  He looked down at her and his black eyes were filled with being deep inside her. Intensity sizzled from them, then he moved and she moaned, a high sound, lifting with him.

  She’d never been bedded like Vincent Whitehorse bedded her. He didn’t just do one position … He did five.

  An undetermined time later, that had to be hours, she lay nude on the bed, on her tummy, with her hand out in front of her. She had her chin to the bed as she again tried to count the positions she’d just been fucked in on her blurry fingers. But seconds later, she passed out.

  TWO / ONE HOT GUY, ONE STAB IN THE HEART. COLLIDE.

  When Tess woke it was barely light out and her head was hammering inside her skull. Yet even that pounding did not dissuade her first thought. I had three freaking orgasms! She grabbed her head realizing she was naked under a sheet, lying on a pillow, in a bed. Undetermined place. All she could remember was three freaking orgasms. Oh … and a mouth on her … between her...

  “Nailed the fucker’s wife last night.”

  Tess hissed a breath coming straight upright to sit on the bed, her head thumped hard … not liking it, but she ignored it. Gritting her teeth.

  She heard Vincent’s gravelly voice again, around the room divide — must be in the bathroom. “She was hot for it.”

  Her mouth opened and her eyes bugged out, pain unlike a-cheating-husband-pain blossomed across her chest. She wanted to scream like a banshee. He’d used her. She just caught back a sob, then she heard the bathroom door click shut, making her unable to hear the rest of the tragic, just down right low and mean, conversatio
n.

  Two seconds later, she jumped out of bed and grabbed her jeans. Fuzzy from too much drinking and with her head pounding she found her bra, top, and purse. Her panties were nowhere to be seen. She’d never dressed as fast … without a sound. She lugged up her boots between her fingers and scooted to the motel room door. Just then, the tears came free that she’d been fighting.

  He thought she was a slut. She opened the door and closed it behind her. Damn it she’d acted like a slut. A married fucking slut. On her bare feet she ran across the driveway, while pulling her cell out of her purse, then she called the only person she could think of in the situation.

  “Rusty? I know it’s early. Can you come pick me up? I’ll pay.” Tess ran on her bare feet toward Lulu’s, while talking on her cell.

  “It's seven!” Rusty moaned. “I was out until three.”

  “I know, babe, I am so sorry. But I ... well I, just need you.”

  “Be there in ten.”

  “Love you,” Tess whispered. She gave Rusty her whereabouts, and then closed the call off her phone, looking back toward the front of the motel. He’d never come out looking for her. He was probably glad to be rid of her, and he probably hated that she’d spent all early morning there.

  She sniffled, hitting the front of Lulu’s and slowing down. How could she feel worse after finding out her husband was cheating on her? Oh, but she did ... oh God, she did. She looked back again, then saw Vincent barreling out of the motel room. She barely kept from screaming a startled cry as she plastered herself to the side of Lulu’s.

  Tess couldn’t help the curiosity that made her peek. He was looking away from her with his hand tunneling through his straight, jet-black hair, then she heard the distinct cuss word. “Fuck.”

  He started to turn her way and she hit the building, when she looked again he’d stalked with a long, loose stride to the motel office. Oh my God, he was the most beautiful man. To think she’d had that giving her orgasms. It made it all worse. She scooted along the front of Lulu’s, to the far side, afraid he might look out the motel office window and see her slinking away.

  Whatever made her think doing Vincent Whitehorse would show she was worth it?

  A minute later, Rusty’s taxi pulled to halt on the side of Lulu’s. Rusty leaned her freckled nose out the open window, looking Tess up and down. “My God, girl. You didn’t. Did you?” Rusty Jean Harper’s pretty violet eyes widened. “You’ve been fucked good. I can see it. And I know your ball and chain can’t do that!”

  Tess hurried to the back driver’s side door, knowing Rusty wouldn’t let her sit up front as that would not look professional for her taxi service.

  “We need to drive around back to get out of here,” Tess explained, tossing her boots in, then following them.

  “Tess!”

  Tess looked over her shoulder at Vincent Whitehorse glaring at her over the hood of his truck out front of Lulu’s, which looked as if he was just getting into it, when he spotted her.

  Tess slammed the door shut, “Move,” she ordered Rusty as she watched Vincent come around the front of his truck.

  “You did that! Oh God, girl, I’m having a heart attack just looking at all his fineness. A. Heart. Attack.”

  Then bless Rusty, she peeled out on the tires of her Chevy four door, and Tess fell back in the seat with her eyes clenched, trying not to cry more.

  Tess knew she wouldn’t get off without spilling everything to her best friend Rusty. They’d been friends since junior high, stayed friends through junior high, lost a bit of friendship time due to boys through high school. Later, Rusty had moved away for a while, then Tess had, but in the last couple years they’d both found themselves back, and then back to being best friends. Although …

  “Heck that’s why you haven’t called me in a month,” Rusty said, sipping coffee out of Styrofoam as they sat out back of the truck stop on the highway.

  Tess had just told Rusty most of her story, the weeks of knowing Steven was cheating, but not being able to catch him, then catching him last night, and Vincent showing up. She’d gotten quiet after that, not going into what happened next.

  “Do you have any aspirin?” Tess asked.

  “Yeah, in the glove compartment.” Rusty pointed.

  “You’re an angel,” Tess informed her.

  “You should've called, you need support,” Rusty stated. Her words didn’t have a sting, but concern.

  Tess rummaged in the glove compartment. How could she tell her how embarrassed she was over it all? A woman that couldn’t keep her own husband.

  “That scum, I’ve always known he was scum since he took Karen to the prom, but ditch her to do May Princeton. That rich bitch,” Rusty muttered.

  She and Rusty had always stuck together against the more affluent and popular kids. Those kids could be so mean to those that didn’t have “it.” “It” could be anything from a dad (Rusty’s disappeared before she was born) or a cheerleader figure (Tess never had one.)

  Tess didn’t agree or disagree, taking two aspirin with her coffee. How could she. She’d married him. He’d turned out to be scum.

  “Vincent Whitehorse was on the phone with someone when I woke up this morning telling them ‘he’d nailed the fucker’s wife,’” Tess blurted.

  Rusty gasped, tossing her coffee out the window, cussing, “That bastard.” She turned to Tess rubbing her shoulder. “Babe, how did you end up in bed with him?”

  “I don’t know,” Tess said, trying to fight her tears. “You saw him, he’s just so …”

  “Yeah, hot,” Rusty added for her.

  “I was drunk, and I just seen Steven... you know.”

  “That’d do it. One hot guy, one stab in the heart. Collide.”

  Vincent sat in his truck after the taxi carrying Tess had squealed its tires and drove off.

  “What the fuck?” he asked himself for the fiftieth time.

  Problem was, he still tasted Tess on him and he knew that wasn’t going away anytime soon. She’d completely blind-sided him. She was soft and responsive … passionate as hell, and was in it with him through it all, never lagging, always right there wanting as much as he did. So...

  “What the fuck?”

  He grabbed his cell pushing speed dial, and at the answer he said, “Cabe, you’re up early.

  “As ever, brother,” Cabe responded.

  “Trouble?” Vincent asked, before he got to what he really called for.

  “Did you just ask for days off or was I hallucinating?” Cabe replied. Of course there was trouble; there was always damn trouble with women. Especially the young ones that trained at WTSF. He let it go; sure if it was big enough Cabe would get with him.

  "Need a lookup on a Tess Navarro. Full file."

  Cabe cleared his throat. “Since when are we looking up the wife of the guy fucking yours?”

  “Just do it,” Vincent growled, then he snapped the connection. Yeah, Cabe was right … since when.

  Then he looked at the white panties in his other hand. Maybe since he had something to return.

  THREE / WHAT YOU THOUGHT YOU HEARD

  Tess worked in her flower shop the entire day with little sleep and a hangover. Luckily, the dregs of alcohol and sex induced aches and pains lessened by afternoon, so it wasn't the first time was she glad she’d built a small bathroom in back of her shop. Complete with shower, plus she had a few extra clothes in her office so ... yippy her — she didn’t have to go home and look at her cheating husband.

  She was too confused to deal with him, not sure she ever wanted to see him again, and she knew even though she’d seen him in the act that he’d deny it. The only hope she had to get past the unbelievable denial mechanism he had would have been to confront him during the deed. But Vincent Whitehorse had kept her from doing that.

  At the end of her work day Tess sat in her office behind her desk, and moaned. “Can my life get anymore messed up?”

  She hung her head on her hands, elbows propped to the deskt
op. She couldn’t go home … she wouldn’t. This time, she was going to call a lawyer and file right away so Steven wouldn’t have a chance to work on her, until she caved.

  How pathetic was it that she caved? But she didn’t think she’d cave this time. She’d only caved once to reconcile, because of the hopes his smarmy mouth had told her. “Work things out,” he’d said. We love each other … we just got lost, crap.

  She moaned again, dragging her face out of her hands. Maybe she’d rent a room at Rowdie’s. Call Steven, tell him she … what?

  “Umm, have to work on that one,” she muttered, grabbing her purse, ruined pink boots, and the clothes she had on yesterday. She should be able to scoot home and pack some things quickly, then get out of there before Steven even graced the door … if he did at all. After she was gone, she’d text him so she wouldn’t have to talk to him.

  Tess wandered through the darken shop. It was after seven, because she’d stayed late finishing up some corsages for pickup in the morning. When she hit the back door she pushed it open with her keys out, ready to turn back and lock it. However, the second her gaze hit the back alley she froze with the back door banging into her.

  Her first thought. He looks even better in daylight. Then an inarticulate sound escaped her as she looked up and took too glaring at Vincent Whitehorse, standing beside his chromed out, big black pickup truck. A truck which was blocking her car in. He wore faded black jeans that fit him in ways they should put into their commercials, over heavy boots, with a long sleeved brown tee hugging his impressive chest. His cowboy hat was gone, but his thick black hair looked sexily mussed as if he’d just had it on, and his inky eyes looked expressive, as in pissed off.

  Damn it. Traitorous tingles began in places on her body they shouldn’t! His gaze swept her, her gaze swept him.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” she asked him tightly. “Did you not ‘nail the fucker’s wife’ enough already.”

  Tess could barely believe this. How had he found her? When she’d thrown out her scathing comments, he’d actually flinched slightly and the intense scrutiny of his gaze turned to something else, then seconds later it vanished back into determined intensity.