Watching Amanda blush and fuss over making a mess of her face and fingers, Tucker found himself wishing he could teleport them to a crawdad feast on the bayou. He couldn’t wait to watch her twist tails and suck heads.
He dipped one corner of his paper napkin into the glass of water he’d ordered and dabbed it carefully in a couple of spots on her cheeks and upper lip. “Not everybody can wear salsa, but on you...it works.”
She licked her lips with a saucy look in her eyes that said she knew exactly how his body was going to react. And she was right, but he’d learned a long time ago the best way to keep an audience engaged was by changing things up.
He stood, grabbing her hand. “Let’s dance.”
Her eyes went big. “Are you sure you should?”
“Probably not, but what the hell?” He pulled her toward the jukebox beside a tiny, beat-up wooden floor gap in the seating area. To his shock, in amongst the predominantly Country and Western song choices he found The Black Keys’ Lonely Boy—a song one of the American Male break-out groups danced to last year.
He punched in the number then told her, “Your pick.”
She blinked in surprise. “Me?”
He hated that she had so few expectations of being included in anything. “How ’bout a slow one? So I can impress you with my smooth moves.” He added just enough lechery in his tone to make her roll her eyes.
She turned her focus on the selections and picked one much faster than he’d expected.
They joined the five or six other couples on the dance floor and waited for their picks to come up. When his choice started, the killer beat was impossible to resist. He had to tone down his usual style because his ankle wasn’t thrilled about all the activity—which was minor compared to the activity he had planned later that night.
The next song was hers. A twang of steel guitar told him she’d chosen by title—Let Me Down Easy—rather than because she was a huge fan of the song or singer, Billy Currington. The lyrics made him smile.
As they moved against each other in small, wonderfully hot circles, they got to know each other with hints of what was to come. When the final chord drifted away, he looked at her and asked, “So? Will you? Let me down easy?”
“Isn’t that my line? You’re the professional woman’s man and international hunk.”
He pushed out his chest and grinned. “You noticed.”
She shook her head and gave him a little push, not enough to make him take a step back but he did, anyway, groaning.
“Oh, no. I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?”
He pulled her into his arms. “Not yet, darling, but I fully expect you will.”
Chapter Eight
“Are you sure you’re okay to drive?”
In the three hours they’d spent at Grey’s, Tucker had consumed two beers and one shot that Amanda had insisted on buying for him. He’d limited himself to one non-narcotic painkiller and water since then. “I’m good.”
“I meant your foot.”
He looked down at the Olds’ gas pedal, swiveling his ankle to test its flexibility. The toe of his low-profile hiking boot swished back and forth like a pendulum. Raising it up and down was more problematic, but they didn’t have far to go.
“Yeah. It’s fine. I had a Reiki treatment this afternoon. I think it helped.”
“Ray-kee? I’m not familiar with the word. Do I dare ask?”
He turned the key in the ignition. Did they need to fill the void with small talk? No. “I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”
She leaned her head against the back of the seat, eyes closed. “Promises. Promises.”
Her lips looked freshly touched up with gloss. Wet, inviting and so damn kissable. He’d spent most of the night trying not to be turned on—without much success. “Do you know what you’re doing to me right now?”
Her chin turned his way. The exterior lights from the bar added a sexy, this-is-the-night vibe. He hadn’t made love in a car since his teen years, but if she didn’t quit looking at him that way, that might change. “What am I doing?”
“Flirting.”
He put the car in gear and turned to look over his shoulder. His foot on the brake shook—not from the pain but because he couldn’t back up and stare at the artful curve of her breasts nestled in teal lace. Society girls wear sexy underwear. Who knew?
Luckily, there wasn’t much traffic. He pulled out of the parking spot without hitting either of the cars beside him and stepped on the gas. “Did you ever park in high school?”
“I went to an all-girl academy. The first time I kissed a boy was on a bench in Central Park. Does that count?”
“Nope. Sorry.”
Instead of turning right toward the house, he gunned the engine, heading toward the edge of town. She sat up. “Do we need something from the convenience store?”
Rubbers. “Unless you carry protection in your fancy-dancy purse, we do.”
Her eyes went wide and her lips pressed together as if trying not to smile. “Let me look.”
She drew the giant, designer leather satchel that looked like it weighed ten pounds onto her lap. In the dark, she poked and prodded. “Ta-dah,” she exclaimed, holding up a tab of sticky notes. She held them closer to the dash. “Oh, crum. I’m not as prepared as I should be.”
“No problem, there’s a gas station on the way out of town.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“To one of my favorite spots in the state.”
She looked impressed. “I don’t think I could pick just one,” she admitted. “I had no idea Montana was so beautiful. Do you know what impresses me the most?”
“Besides me? What?”
“Including you, the breathability of the air. Is that a word?”
He nodded. “I think so. If not, it should be.”
He turned into the brightly lit parking lot of the “filling station,” as his grandfather would have called it. The Olds glided over the parking lot potholes like the workingman’s luxury car it had been designed to be. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, I’m so coming, too. I’ve never bought rubbers before.” She giggled. “I’ve never called them that, either.”
He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud. Maybe she’d had more to drink than he thought. “I’ll be right there to open your door. Just wait, now.”
He was pleased that she waited. He was even more pleased when she let him help her stand, and then pressed her front to his front. “Do you think they’ll have fancy ones? Hot pink or purple?”
He took her hand. “I doubt it. This is a gas station. But you never know.”
“You don’t, do you?” she asked, her tone dead serious.
Tonight wasn’t about serious so he distracted her with another tough decision between ice cream sandwiches or fudgesicles. Picking a treat turned out to be simpler than he thought. “I’ve always wanted to try a Drumstick,” she claimed. So, he grabbed two from the freezer compartment.
Picking a prophylactic took twice as long. In fact, they were nearly done eating their cones by the time they walked to the counter to make the purchases, which included a box of lubricated non-latex condoms. Nude.
As they waited for the customer ahead of them to complete his transaction, Tucker noticed Amanda’s apparent fascination with a display of shot glasses—the kind tourists bought to prove they’d actually visited some place.
When the guy in line left, Tucker stepped forward. Amanda did not. She’d picked up one of the shot glasses and appeared to be studying it intently.
“Is this all?” the teenage clerk asked.
“No. We want this, too,” he said, snatching the glass out of Amanda’s hand.
He glanced at it. “Huckleberry bears?” he mouthed.
“It’s cute,” she answered, sticking out her tongue like a five-year-old.
“Would you like a bag?”
“Yes, please,” Amanda answered, giving the boy a smile that nearly made him drop the box of
condoms and the glass.
Tucker took both items from the kid’s hands. “We’re good. Thanks.”
“Have a nice night,” the clerk said to Amanda.
“Thank you. I think we will.”
Tucker followed her to the passenger side but didn’t open the door right away. “You’re very polite.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I like that about you.”
“Me, too.”
“Are you a little drunk?”
She held up two fingers and squeezed them back and forth. “A tiny bit. Mostly, I’m relaxed and happy. Which doesn’t happen all that often.”
He handed her the shot glass, then pulled her to him and kissed her. “It should. You deserve to be happy.”
“Maybe in my forties. My thirties are supposed to be about making a name for myself in my chosen profession.”
He didn’t want to navigate those dark waters tonight, so he reached around her and opened the door. “Let’s go steam up some windows.”
Fifteen minutes later, they reached the newly widened apron leading to Mountie’s Marvelous Montana Zip Line. “Are we going all the way to the top? Won’t your crew be there?”
“Probably not. It’s Friday night. Most of them are out partying. I didn’t see Justin tonight so it’s possible he stayed in camp. But we’re not going that far. Hang on. This beast is more low rider than four-wheel drive.”
Eventually the road would be paved, but not until the zip line started to turn a profit. He hit the high beams and drove slowly, enjoying the play of the lights on the low hanging limbs of the trees that lined the road. “Feels mysterious, doesn’t it?”
“Like a horror movie. You’ll protect me, right?”
“Always.”
Did that sound more serious than he’d intended? He glanced her way and saw the look in her eyes. He couldn’t read her expression. Were they still teasing, playing, and having fun or was something else going on?
Keep it light, he told himself. A summer fling. Roommates with benefits.
When the main road curved to the right, he made a sharp turn to the left. He heard Amanda’s yip of concern but a few seconds later the barely visible path turned again. The thick, paint-scratching underbrush gave way to a vista unlike any he’d ever seen. The fact he owned this amazing piece of beauty still boggled his mind.
After cracking the windows enough for fresh air but not wide enough to invite a throng of mosquitos to the party, he turned off the engine and killed the lights.
Amanda’s slow, admiring intake of breath made him relax. This was the right place for their first time. “Breathtaking. I could live here.”
Truth. He wondered if she’d remember saying those spontaneous words in the morning.
He released his seatbelt and hers then moved his power seat back as far as it would go. Amanda reached down and did the same. “Tilt the angle of your seat back for the best view.”
She made a couple of small adjustments then wriggled sideways into the crook of his waiting arm. “Is that Marietta?” she asked, pointing.
He nodded, lingering to smell her hair. She’d been engaged recently. How could some fool have let go of something this good? “A few ranches sprinkled here and there, but fortunately people in Montana take their night sky seriously.”
She turned into him. “Lucky us.”
She didn’t play games. She kissed him like she meant it. Tenderness he hadn’t expected swept through him with a poignant grace. He tasted her mouth, the sweetness of their cheap ice cream treat. He lapped it up, exploring every inch.
“You’re a good kisser,” she told him.
“Just looking for chocolate. I never get enough.”
She framed his face with both hands, studying his eyes in the starlight reflected off the hood of the car. “Humor is a way to keep people at a distance. You don’t let people get too close, do you?”
Did her observation make him a little uneasy? Yes. Might as well be honest. “Never saw the point. I’m always on the run.”
She kissed his jaw, the top of his cheekbone, and both eyes. “Excuses. Excuses,” she murmured while running her fingers through his hair. Her warm breath nuzzling his ear felt pretty damn intoxicating.
Buttons opened. T-shirts disappeared. The marvelous teal lace proved too pretty to remove right away. He dipped a finger under the sculpted cup, brushing across her turned-on nipple. He rubbed his chin across the material smiling as the Barbarian five-o’clock shadow raked the unsullied fabric. “You’re a goddess.”
“I’m glad you noticed. A horny goddess. I don’t suppose you have that song you danced to on your phone. I haven’t been able to get it out of my mind.”
“Oh, shit, you got me so turned on, I nearly forgot.” He pulled his phone out of his hip pocket, flipped to his music app, set the unit on the oversized dash and hit Play. Luckily, Anticipation was number one.
She smiled. “Mood music. I think I like parking. Very cozy. Intimate.”
She reached behind her back and unsnapped the bra hooks. The teal scrap of lace dropped to the floorboards.
His mouth went dry. “Damn.”
She looked down. “Good damn?”
He reached out to touch. “Hot damn. Beautiful. Perfection.”
They finished undressing quickly, without really touching. The music choreographed their need. She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down, her arms locking behind his back. “Make love to me, Tucker. I need this badly. You have no idea.”
He knew, though. He knew because he felt exactly the same, as if not having sex with this woman might very well be the end of him. He touched her intimately and knew she was ready. Ripping open a condom package was a distraction he could have done without, but he wasn’t a fool. He never took those kinds of chances. Never had and he didn’t plan to start now.
Neither pretended the color of the condom mattered. He moved into the passenger seat so she could straddle him. And she did, without hesitation. His breath left him with a loud whoosh. He suckled her perfect breasts while she lifted and wiggled finding the place and timing she needed. He tried to focus on making this good for her, but in the end, the primal instincts took over and his mind went to that place. A very good place. A place filled with light and glory and a tiny bit of pain from his ankle.
Her cries took him over the edge. He held her hips as he emptied himself into her.
She rested her forehead against his. “Oh, my. That was lovely. Exactly what I hoped it would be. Thank you.”
Praise was good, but, in a strange way, he’d hoped for more. Not praise. Honest feeling. “Thank you. But do you know the best part?”
She looked him straight in the eyes and shook her head.
“We’re going home together.” He made his eyebrows wiggle in a way that drove his audiences mad.
Her response didn’t lack. She laughed, kissed him and then hopped off. “Good point. Let’s go.”
He followed her lead. Not the romantic necking and stargazing he’d planned, but, hey, hot sex with his roommate sounded too good to pass up.
“Do you want me to open a bottle of wine?” Tucker asked.
Amanda turned in the doorway of the ensuite attached to her bedroom. She looked at the bed where a very naked Tucker waited. Gorgeous, unbelievably buff, heartthrob handsome, and very turned on. A zing of anticipation rushed through her body from head to toe then back to her lady parts. “No, thank you. I’m good. Just need a minute. Don’t fall asleep.”
He waggled a condom package and gave her a devilish wink. “No chance of that.”
She closed the pocket door and took care of the personal ablutions she hadn’t been able to do while in the car. I had sex in a car, a part of her mind shrieked. Another part of her head did a crazy dance. I had sex in a car. And it was awesome.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a flyaway mess. Her chin showed the faint abrasion from Tucker’s five o’clock shadow. But, damn, she felt good. Liberated. Free, in a way
she’d never known.
Was it Montana? Was her independent grandmother’s spirit rubbing off on her? Or was she falling for Tucker?
She stuck out her tongue and said, firmly, “No.”
A casual fling between two unattached adults didn’t require any kind of emotional commitment. Given Tucker’s rather highly publicized job and well-documented flirtations on social media, he’d be looking for the exact opposite of commitment. And that worked for her.
Thinking about his professional persona—The Full Mountie—made her frown. They hadn’t spoken about what life was like on the road with American Male, but Amanda guessed he probably had his pick.
And he picked me.
For now, she reminded herself. And now was all she needed.
On impulse, she picked up the oversized pink and olive silk scarf she’d found in one of the boxes in the attic and brought back to the guesthouse to wash and hang out to dry. Molly had given her free rein to keep anything that caught her fancy from the attic boxes. This scarf spoke to her.
She draped it across her shoulders, positioning it carefully. She wasn’t a dancer, but how hard could it be to strip for a man who was already naked and ready to go?
She turned off the light before sliding the door open, slowly. Stepping into the threshold, she struck a Lauren Bacall-like pose. “Do you like my scarf?”
Tucker’s grin made her heart do a double somersault. “Sexy. Are you channeling your inner Scheherazade?” He scrambled to his knees and grabbed his phone. “Wait. You need Rimsky-Korsakov. I have Valery Gergiev conducting the Vienna Philharmonic on here somewhere.”
She tilted her head as the strings began to swell. Of course, she’d attended many performances of major symphonic works with her parents over the years. She was no stranger to opera, art, and orchestras. But seeing the look of rapturous appreciation on Tucker’s face as the flutes flirted with the violins caused something unexpected and a little unnerving to settle suspiciously close to her heart.
Montana Rogue (Big Sky Mavericks Book 7) Page 10
