A Shot of Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

  Something, or more accurately someone, from behind caught Colton’s attention, and he offered some lucky lady a wink and some filthy eye-sexing before returning his gaze to Bobbi. “You’re not foolin’ me, sugar. Neither is Lewis. Even a blind virgin could see you two’re hot for each other. I never stood a chance.”

  She shifted on her seat, the vinyl clinging painfully to the backs of her bare thighs. “He’s my subject. Getting involved with him is out of the question.”

  “And let me guess, playing matchmaker’s eating a hole in your gut?”

  “Yeah.” She brought the iced mocha to her lips and sighed into the plastic cup. “I practically ordered him to get to first base tonight.”

  “Want me to kiss you?” Blue-green eyes twinkling with mischief contrasted against his russet skin, and Bobbi understood why half the women in Sultry Springs were sprung for the man. “This mouth,” he said as he pointed to his own lips, “is guaranteed to ruin you for all other guys.”

  “Think I’ll pass.” She took a sip of sugared coffee and smiled. “No telling where your mouth has been.”

  A few smooth chuckles escaped said mouth. “Who am I to hide this gift from the world?”

  “Maybe you haven’t found the right woman to share it with.” She decided to push for a few tidbits on Leah McMahon. “Or from what I heard, you did find her, and she got away.”

  With those words, his playful mood darkened—his eyes narrowed, jaw set, shoulders clenched halfway to his ears. Oh yeah, she’d hit a nerve.

  “Trey told me about the pastor’s daughter,” she said casually, trying to keep him from shutting down. “Sounds like she really screwed you over. What happened?”

  “Get this straight.” Colt’s typically seductive voice went sharper than a sword’s edge. “She didn’t do anything wrong. It was all me.” He tipped his head, delivering a pointed gaze that warned her to back off. “It’s bad enough that I have to live with what I did. I’m not talkin’ about it with you. Leave her outta this.”

  They both fell silent, letting the squeak of wet shoes against tile replace their charged conversation until Bobbi peeked through her lashes and asked, “What if I could find her?”

  His wide-eyed reaction was instantaneous—one of pure, unadulterated hope—but just as quickly, he bottled up those emotions and stuffed them down. She’d done it enough times to know. “Don’t waste your time.”

  “Why? Because you think she won’t forgive—”

  She was interrupted by a pair of large, wet, male hands slamming against the Formica—hands she’d know anywhere because they’d made her body tremble on more than one occasion. She turned to find Trey braced against the table, his drenched black T-shirt molded to him like a second skin as turrets of raindrops streamed down his face and fell from his angular jaw. His straw cowboy hat cast a dangerous shadow over his stormy, blue eyes, which seemed to devour her where she sat. A thousand butterflies took flight, pirouetting inside Bobbi’s stomach as her mouth went drier than Death Valley at noon.

  “We need to talk,” was all he said before turning on his booted heel and stalking into the hallway that led to the bathrooms and two defunct pay phones in the back.

  Bobbi glanced over her shoulder, scanning the booths and tables, with no sign of Sarah or the crew. What on earth had happened out there?

  “You’d better go on,” Colton said, seeming to recover a fraction of his good spirits, “before he hauls you over his shoulder and smacks your ass again.” He snorted a dry laugh. “Unless that’s what you’re after.”

  “I’ll just be a minute.” She scooted along the cushioned vinyl and pushed to standing.

  “Take your time, honey. I need to get back on duty.” He removed his Stetson just long enough to rake a hand through his long, raven hair. “But you know where to find me if you wanna take me up on that offer.”

  Her foggy brain couldn’t summon a witty comeback, so she breathed, “Sure,” and began on shaky knees toward the back hallway. Her limbs moved as if underwater, her pulse racing, though she couldn’t identify why. Something about the furious heat in Trey’s glare had made her equal parts eager and terrified of being alone with him. Her destination seemed farther away with each step.

  When she finally reached him, he faced the emergency exit, one shoulder propped against the wall, arms folded in a combative stance. The faint glow from the exit sign overhead bathed him in red, serving to heighten the sense of foreboding in the dim space.

  “What’s going on?” she asked softly. When he didn’t respond, she moved closer, resting her palm against the planes of his strong back. “Where’s the crew? And Sarah?”

  Slowly, he turned to face her, then stared her down for several long seconds. He advanced one inch at a time until he’d trapped her body between two walls—one of wood paneling, the other of muscled flesh. Bracing his palms on either side of her head, he murmured, “I sent them all home.”

  His simmering gaze swept her face and settled low on her mouth. Electric heat rolled off his body in waves, along with the scents of summer rain and pure male desire. She swallowed hard before managing to ask why.

  “Because,” he explained, eliminating all but an inch of space between them, “I couldn’t stand being around her another second.”

  The predatory stance of his body, his closeness and fever, sent Bobbi’s pulse into overdrive as tension coiled low in her stomach. “B-but she’s perfect.”

  Trey shook his head, lowering it until they were eye-level. “Turns out she’s got a pretty big personality flaw. A total deal-breaker.”

  Bobbi didn’t understand—Sarah had it all: looks, brains, charisma, the whole package. “What could that possibly be?”

  Moving his lips to her ear, he whispered, “She’s not you.”

  His words tore a gasp from her lungs, or maybe it was his hot breath nuzzling the helix of her ear. Responding without conscious thought, she arched her back until her breasts conformed to his damp chest. He sucked in a breath, muscles tense. “Does this mean I can touch you now?”

  God help her, he felt so good, like the first day of spring after an eternal, dark winter, and she didn’t hesitate to say, “Yes.” She craved his touch like a drug, wanted to feel it over every inch of her skin more than she wanted to breathe.

  He wasted no time lowering his face to hers. With the rough hands she’d grown to love, he took her cheeks between his palms and kissed her so slowly it made her throat close, his wet mouth sliding over hers in one soft, simple motion that somehow managed to feel mind-blowingly erotic and tender at the same time. At once, she opened to him, sighing against his lower lip and inviting him to take more—and he did, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss and exploring her mouth with the tip of his soft tongue.

  He tasted so deliciously sweet and sensual that she couldn’t stop the moan from escaping her chest. She wrapped both arms around the thick pillar of his neck in a compulsion to pull him closer as their tongues twined and circled in their seductive dance. She needed to feel his weight crushing her, and he seemed to understand, pinning her to the wall with his hips, pressing every strong, solid contour of his body against her. In that moment, she felt whole, as if this man’s warmth had been the one thing missing from her life all these years. Tangling one hand in her hair, he released a jagged breath before claiming her mouth again, harder, sucking and nipping at her lips in a clear show of possession that thrilled her to the soles of her feet.

  She’d experienced plenty of kisses in her life, some hot in their own right, but never anything like this. Never a kiss that burned her up from the inside out, branded her, made her feel so utterly adored. Trey slowed down, brushed his soft lips against hers, and brought her palm to rest atop his chest, where his heart pounded a furious staccato for her. She glowed with the knowledge that right now he wanted only her—no other wom
an in the world.

  He touched his forehead to hers, whispering, “Come home with me.” His thumb stroked her lower lip, blazed a trail over her jaw and down the side of her throat. “Stay with me tonight.”

  Still drunk with his kisses, she let her eyes flutter open and tried to think straight. “I thought you didn’t like girls spending the night.”

  “I don’t.” He licked his upper lip, then bent to kiss her again, pausing at the corner of her mouth. “But I know once won’t be enough for either of us.” When she shuddered against him in clear desire, he gripped her thigh, pulling it around his hips as he ground his erection against her aroused flesh in a slow rotation. “I want to make love to you, Bobbi. Then I want to wrap you in my arms and fall asleep while I’m still inside you. I want to bury my face in the curve of your neck and breathe you all night long.”

  Letting her head tip to the side, she groaned loudly, beyond caring about the dozens of patrons a stone’s throw away.

  “Say yes,” he murmured with another lazy thrust that undid her.

  “Yes.” She couldn’t have said no if she wanted to. This was more than animal lust. She needed this man inside her, filling and completing her on a primal level, consequences be damned. In that moment, she’d sacrifice anything—even her career—to join her body with his, to spend the night in his powerful embrace, and she couldn’t wait another excruciating second to make it happen.

  “Yes,” she repeated with all the certainty and passion in her heart. “Take me home.”

  Chapter 11

  Trey shifted his Chevy into third gear as he navigated Main Street, then shifted his erection away from his zipper before he busted through the copper teeth. He’d never been so hard in his life. It was like his johnson knew it was about to enter the promised land and had already stowed its tray in the upright position. What it failed to understand was the copilot was still two car lengths behind, observing the speed limit and coming to a complete stop at each friggin’ intersection. Please, sweet baby Jesus, don’t let Bobbi change her mind before I can get her home.

  He wished Bobbi hadn’t insisted on driving separately. He’d hoped to pull her close and put his free hand to good use during the short trip to his place. But she’d had a valid point—everyone in Sultry Springs knew that purple hatchback, and it would get back to Luke in a flash if she left Bruiser on the curb all night. Better to hide it inside his garage.

  Trey didn’t know how they were going to explain Bobbi’s absence to Luke, and a faint twinge of guilt pricked at his stomach. There wasn’t enough blood left in his head—not the one on his shoulders, anyway—for a full-on attack of conscience, but he knew he’d feel like shit in the morning when he had to face his best friend on the job site. Especially with the night’s debauchery fresh in his mind. And he would debauch Bobbi, make no mistake. He wasn’t even sure if they’d make it to the bedroom for round one. Maybe he’d peel off her shorty-shorts, lift her onto the kitchen counter, and spend the first twenty minutes with his face between her thighs. The mental image made his pants even tighter, and he punched the accelerator, hoping the owner of those thighs got the message and quit lollygagging.

  When he reached his driveway—after the longest five-minute ride of his life—he hit the garage door opener and pulled inside, making sure to leave plenty of room for her car. He was already out of his truck and almost twitching with need when Bobbi pulled in beside him. Would it be wrong to lay her across the hood of her hatchback and do her right there? Yeah, probably. Besides, he’d waited so long, dreamt about her night and day since she’d come to town, and he wanted to do this right—take his time and savor every smooth inch, binge on her sweetness…and hopefully get her out of his system.

  He opened her car door and she peered up at him tentatively, as if equally afraid he’d changed his mind. Bending across her lap, he unfastened her seat belt and gave her a kiss that left no doubt about his intentions. Her mouth was hot and responsive, her tongue eager to please, and he tugged her to standing before nudging the door shut with his hip.

  “I need you,” she sighed against his mouth, wrapping one leg around his waist, “inside me, right now.” Then she started grinding against his hard-on.

  He moaned loud enough to wake the dead. “You keep doing that, and our first time won’t last very long.” Pulling her other leg around his waist, he hoisted her up and held her by the ass as he stumbled toward the door to the kitchen. After nearly tripping over an old paint can, he reached the entrance to the house, managed to get the door open, and rushed inside, hoping the place wasn’t too messy. He was pretty sure he’d picked up all his dirty underwear and returned the girly mags to their rightful place beneath the bed.

  Just as he crossed the threshold, Bobbi licked his earlobe, and he knew it was no use trying to get her to the bedroom. Setting her gently on the kitchen island, he began sucking and nibbling his way down her neck while reaching beneath her shirt to massage her firm breasts. They filled each of his palms to perfection, taunting him beneath a layer of lace. He lifted one breast to his mouth and softly bit Bobbi’s nipple through her bra. She fisted his hair, groaning a litany of sensual curses and reaching down to stroke him with her fingertips.

  He stilled her hand, in serious danger of finishing before they officially started. “Darlin’, I wasn’t joking when I said—”

  All of a sudden, a new sensation pierced Trey’s fog of lust and froze him in place. An overwhelming scent, warm and chocolaty, filled his nostrils, so thick it must’ve saturated the entire house. It smelled amazing in here, which didn’t make sense. When he’d left several hours ago, the slightly acrid odor of Tex-Mex chili from last night’s dinner had clung to the kitchen walls. Wrinkling his forehead, he glanced at the oven, noting the digital display that read 350 bake. Bake? Had he left the oven on all day? He barely used the thing—didn’t even know how to bake since his mother had never taught him.

  Wait a minute.

  He sniffed the air a few times, stomach lurching against his ribs as the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

  “Oh, no. No, no, no.” He recognized that smell. It was his mother’s legendary double-fudge brownies, and since he doubted a burglar had broken in to whip up a tasty treat, that meant Mom was in here somewhere.

  “Hey.” Bobbi took his face between her hands, turning his gaze to her heavy-lidded, green eyes. “Where’d you go?”

  Into his worst nightmare, that’s where. “Let’s get outta here.”

  “What?” She squinted in confusion. “But we just got—”

  A shrill voice from the other side of the room yelled, “Great Caesar’s ghost, Trey!”

  Bobbi brought both hands to her chest and screamed, while Trey hung his head and fought the urge to bang his skull against the countertop. Why, God, why? What had he done to deserve this level of cosmic cockblockery?

  Mom clutched the silk fabric over her heart, mouth agape as she took in the scene: a drenched, barely clothed Bobbi perched on the counter with her legs still wrapped around Trey’s waist, his hand paused mid-grope beneath the front of her shirt.

  Bobbi worked her way free from Trey’s grasp and hopped down, clutching his bicep as she moved to hide behind him. Realizing Mom hadn’t seen him with a boner since he was three, Trey repositioned himself strategically behind the island and asked, “What the holy hell are you doing here?”

  After stammering for a few seconds, she smoothed her blouse. “Visiting you, obviously.”

  “You couldn’t have called first?” The instant the words left his lips, Trey cringed inwardly, remembering he hadn’t picked up in days. He should’ve known there was no escaping her. Damn it, why had he given her a key all those years ago?

  “I did call! And left plenty of messages, which you clearly ignored.” She bitched at him with the same voice she’d used since he’d worn Batman Underoos, making him feel four feet tall. One hand gripping her
hip, she scoured Bobbi with that cold, signature Lewis family glare. “Now I know what’s been keeping you so busy. Or rather, whom.” In a tone that oozed disappointment, she prodded, “Aren’t you going to introduce me to your…little friend?”

  His “little friend” beat him to it. “Hi, Mrs. Lewis. I’m Bobbi. It’s nice to meet you, though I’m a little embarrassed by the circumstances.” She released a nervous laugh, pinching him hard on the back in retribution.

  “I see.” Mom did that thing where she lifted her face, so she could look down her nose at everyone. Trey knew it was born from insecurity and she didn’t mean anything by it, but Bo wouldn’t understand. He shot his mother a warning glance, which she coolly ignored. “Do you have a last name, Bobbi?”

  Uh-oh. Warning bells chimed inside Trey’s muddled brain, but he couldn’t summon a believable cover-up before Bobbi announced, “Gallagher.”

  That did it. Mom associated the name Gallagher with all things evil, similar to the way Trey felt about the St. Louis Cardinals. Her eyes wrenched to his, widening just enough to warn him a shit storm was brewing.

  “Turns out Luke has a sister,” Trey said slowly, sending Mom a clear message to tone it down. “She’s spending the summer in town filming a…documentary.” No way was he fessing up to his role in Sex in the Sticks. Mom would have a conniption duck fit.

  “Is that so?” His mom gave Bobbi a hesitant once-over, as if reserving further judgment for now. “On what topic?”

  “Uh…” Bobbi clearly understood—she’d made her feelings for this project clear and wouldn’t advertise her involvement on a regular day, let alone when meeting Trey’s mother for the first time. “It’s…um…well, you could say it’s about interpersonal relationships within the rural community.”

  Nice one.

  “And,” Bobbi continued, “Trey’s helping me out.”