by April Hunt
* * *
Elle lost count of how many line dances Trey endured all in the name of her fun. And as much as she loved watching him glide his large body so fluidly into spins and slides, she loved the slow songs even more.
The mix of clean soap and male musk invading her nose was all Trey—earthy, comfortable, and really damn sexy. That scent and brushing against his body with each beat of the music escalated Elle’s desire from a pleasantly warm contentment to a desperate need to get him alone and naked.
Neither one of them had said much since the last song started crooning softly about love and need and desire. Trey guided his hand up her back and into her hair, leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake.
“Elle.” His voice rumbled against her cheek. “I don’t want to rush through your birthday or anything but do you want to—”
“Yes.” She didn’t even let him finish his thought. Clutching his hand, she towed him to the table to grab their coats, and then they exited Dixie’s to the chorus of catcalls and whistles.
“Woman possessed” wasn’t an apt enough description for the feelings coursing through her body. She needed Trey, and she needed him now. The second they reached the truck, she gently pushed him against the passenger door.
His eyes widened in surprise. “In a hurry, are we? And here I didn’t want to have to end the night early.”
“We’re not ending the night early,” Elle said right before she attacked.
Trey caught her, his palms sliding over her ass while she playfully took his bottom lip between her teeth in a gentle nibble. She couldn’t stop touching him—beneath his jacket and over his chest. She undulated her hips in an attempt to get closer.
Trey fisted her hair and flipped their positions so it was him pushing her against the truck.
“Goddamn it,” Trey growled. He nipped his way down her neck, each gentle bite making Elle’s breath hitch. “I wish we were closer to our fucking room.”
“We have a perfectly good truck right behind us.”
“I’m not taking you in the cab of a fucking pickup—at least not on your birthday.”
Elle’s mouth opened to make a retort about it being his birthday gift to her when she registered the scuffle of stones. Trey must’ve heard it too because he spun around as two men stepped out from behind one of the parked cars.
Wearing dark plaid hunters’ jackets and unkempt beards, both men looked as if they hadn’t seen the sharper side of a razor in a few months.
“Get in the truck, Elle.” Trey handed her the keys and took a small step forward, giving her room to open the passenger-side door.
“Aw, don’t get in the truck, hon,” the man on the left slurred. “If it’s your birthday, it only seems right that me and my buddy here get a chance to give you a present.” He shot a malicious grin to his friend. “Don’cha think, Bruce? Maybe a sweet little birthday kiss.”
“That sounds good to me, Les,” Bruce agreed. Then in a move meant to shock, he grabbed his crotch and lifted his eyebrows in a lewd expression. “And boy do I have a present for you to kiss, princess.”
Trey turned enough to hold the passenger-side door open for Elle. “Inside. Now.”
“Didn’t we say not to get in the fucking car?” Les howled.
Before the hand even clamped down on Elle’s wrist, it was gone. Trey had Bruce’s arm twisted behind his back at an odd angle, and his face practically eating the truck’s paint job. Elle saw a flash of movement behind him a split second before a dull thump made Trey curse.
He teetered sideways, his grip on the first man loosening. Les stood tall and proud, gripping a bat in his hands like he’d hit a home run.
“Back the hell off now, and I may let you actually walk away,” Trey warned. Blood trickled from the gash on the side of his head where a small knot was already forming.
The baseball protégé snorted. “Like fucking hell, dick. Not until we get a little taste of that sweet piece of ass.”
Trey blocked the bat mid-swing, and delivered an uppercut that sent both Les and the bat flying against the parked car. It wasn’t much of a fight. Before long, Trey had Bruce back to eating the truck’s hood.
“I told you to back off,” Trey pointed out with a low rumble. “Your ears broken or what?”
Bruce struggled in vain to break free. Les was back on his feet, his trusty bat in hand—and focused on Trey.
“Oh, hell no.” She slithered out from the truck, her foot bumping into a discarded beer bottle. She picked it up and armed herself. “Hey, Les.”
The second Les turned, she swung. The bottle smacked into his head, shattering on impact and making him stumble—stumble, but not go down. Red-faced and furious, he charged. Thinking back to Charlie’s instructions, she aimed her strappy shoe toward his kneecap and kicked. It didn’t pack as much punch as if she’d been wearing sneakers, but it did the job, making the thug drop to his knees.
People started trickling out of the bar, a few even clapping and offering congratulations for a job well done. Not surprisingly, Bruce and Les didn’t have much in the way of friends. Dixie’s bartender, a man equal in size to Trey, grabbed Bruce by the scruff of his neck and took over for Trey.
“You okay?” Trey looked her over as he stalked over to her.
“I’m fine.” At his raised brow, she added. “Charlie’s a good teacher.”
He studied her again as if trying to make sure she wasn’t lying. By the time he was somewhat appeased, red and blue lights had pulled into the parking lot and two brown-uniformed officers climbed out from the police cruiser.
Penny and Charlie would be proud—a birthday outing that ended with a police presence.
Chapter Twenty-Two
After giving a statement to the town’s lone sheriff, it had taken Trey a few rounds of counting to ten and the entire five-minute ride to the B&B to pull his shit together. When they stepped into its foyer, he was still working on it, which meant he needed to haul out the big guns.
“Come here.” Trey pulled Elle into his arms and nestled his nose into the curve of her neck. Having her this close was better than any fucking countdown to sanity.
Her fingers gently ran over his arms. “Trey, I—”
“Just give me another minute.”
Elle probably thought he’d lost his fucking mind. Part of him thought so too.
“Are you really okay?” His voice sounded gruff even to his own ears. “Keep in mind that if you lie to me and I find out, I’m going to be hella fucking pissed, sweetness.”
“I’m fine.” Her answer was muffled against his chest.
He eased her far enough away to make sure. No blood. No bruises. Relief washed over him a split second before fear made him go stupid. “What the hell were you thinking, going after that guy with a fucking beer bottle?”
Elle’s blue eyes narrowed on him. “Excuse me?”
Yeah, he probably could’ve phrased it a bit differently, but his mind was still reeling from the sight of her being confronted by that brawling redneck.
“What I was thinking,” she returned, her voice level, “was that you’d been struck in the head by a baseball bat once already and were, amazingly enough, still standing. I didn’t want to test that hard head of yours with a second blow. But if you keep glaring at me, I’ll rethink my actions the next time someone comes at you with sporting equipment.”
Elle trailed her fingers across his brow, and then both her eyes and her tone softened. “You’re the one who got hurt. You’re bleeding. And you really should’ve let them look you over at the emergency room. You already have a goose egg.”
“Not going to any emergency room.”
“Trey, you—”
“No,” he said firmly. “There’s no reason to go to the hospital.”
Elle snorted. “You could have a concussion—or worse.”
He shook his head. “Like you said, I have a hard head.”
She looked at him like she wanted to test that theory out herself. Instea
d, she took his hand and led him up the steps and into their room. Gone was the hot and sultry Elle of earlier. Nurse Elle pushed him onto the closed toilet before rifling through the vanity cabinets and finding a first-aid kit.
She pulled out disinfectant and bandages and spread them out on the counter. “Maybe I should talk with Stone about putting a medical staff on your payroll, because you guys seem to need some kind of care on a routine basis.”
Their positions put his head even with her breasts. He palmed her hips and savored her closeness. “The guys can find their own private-duty nurse. You’re all mine.”
“You need stitches, Trey. Nurses don’t do stitches, and I failed every unit in my high-school home economics class—especially sewing.”
“So slap a Band-Aid on it. It’ll still heal.”
“It’ll scar.”
He shrugged. “I hear some imperfections are like catnip to some women. What about you, babe? You like a man who looks a little rough around the edges?”
Elle muttered something unflattering about him under her breath while she disinfected the cut and applied a couple of butterfly bandages. Her softly grumbled profanities made him grin, and then he gave in to the need to touch her a little bit more.
He didn’t know which was softer, the dress or her skin. He took it upon himself to test both, running his fingers up the backs of her legs.
“Doing that isn’t going to put you in my good graces, Hanson.” She repacked the first-aid kit with a little more force than necessary and stuffed it back into the cabinet. “You should be going to the hospital.”
“And I said that I don’t need one. Come here.” He coaxed her closer, attempting to slip a knee between her soft thighs.
Her hands dropped to his shoulders and locked. “I’m not straddling you while you sit on a toilet…probably concussed.”
“Fine. Hold on.” Palming her ass, he stood. She squealed, her legs having nowhere to go except around his waist as he walked the two of them to the bed.
“Put me down,” Elle ordered him. “Trey! Damn it, you’re going to hurt yourself!”
“It’ll take more than a baseball bat to take me out…especially when you’re wearing that sexy-as-hell dress and those fuck-me heels.” There wasn’t a damn thing that could convince him to keep his distance from the woman currently squirming in his hands.
The night had been about more than her birthday celebration. Hell, it had even gone beyond proving that what they had didn’t deserve a fucking shelf life. It was about confirmation.
He wanted what Rafe had—a no-questions-asked, no-holding-back, hearts-all-in relationship that fucked people up in the head. And he wanted that with Elle.
He was falling goddamned hard, if he hadn’t already sunk the entire way. “You’re not going anywhere,” he murmured, more to himself than to Elle.
He lay her by the edge of the bed, kissing his way to her mouth while his hands skimmed up her silken legs. Her heels dug into ass, driving him crazy.
“Trey.” Elle, already breathless and aroused, danced her fingers up the buttons of his shirt and released them one by one. “At least let me take off these shoes before someone loses an eye.”
“The shoes stay. Everything else can go…eventually.” Meaning after he’d tormented them both to the brink of sanity. As badly as he wanted her, he didn’t want this over anytime soon.
He gently plucked open the neatly tied bow on her hip and slowly revealed the lace undergarments beneath—strike that—the single lace garment, because she was sans one pair of panties.
Trey groaned, his eyes feasting on her flesh. “Goddamn, Elle. This is like opening a present on Christmas morning. You’ve been without panties all goddamned night?”
Her lips melted into a coy smile as she rotated her hips. “I gave you my word, didn’t I? You conjured up an antique store and I hocus-pocused my underwear.”
Trey unraveled her dress the rest of the way and nearly came on the spot at the way her sheer black bra hugged her breasts. The demi-cups presented him with her already firmed, half-exposed nipples. And with no panties covering her mound, there was nothing to hide the fact she was already wet and ready.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby.” He trailed his knuckles up her torso while his lips skimmed over the fabric of her bra.
She dug her fingers into his hair, holding him close as he nibbled and licked her budding left nipple before leaving it and offering the same attention to its twin. Her soft sighs spurred him on and had him locking gazes with her over the curve of her breast.
He couldn’t keep his hands or his mouth off her, especially when she looked at him with a mixture of raw hunger and need.
“My turn.” Her voice dripped with pure sex as she sat up, running her fingers over the bulge in his pants.
When she reached his fly, his hand closed over hers. “It’s probably safer if I stay clothed for now, sweetness.”
“I don’t want safe right now, Trey. I want naked skin. Yours. Mine.” She gently pushed his hand aside and resumed her efforts on his zipper. Once his pants dropped to the ground, she had him in her hand. “I want this. Inside me.”
Trey loved Elle’s assertive side, loved that she felt comfortable unleashing it with him. He tossed his shirt aside just as her tongue flicked out, catching the drop of moisture beading on his cock. That wasn’t the inside he’d been thinking of, but it worked for now.
He gently lifted her hair away from her face and watched her take him into her mouth. Pure fucking heaven—that’s what her mouth was. Her blue eyes peered up at him, closing as she curled her wicked tongue around his tip and sank back down. Every swipe snapped another thread of his control, until she emitted a greedy little hum—and then all his damn threads disintegrated.
With a low groan, he cupped her cheek and eased himself away.
Unspoken questions and doubt glittered up at him from her blue eyes. “Did you not like it?”
Trey let out a painful chuckle. Wrapping a hand behind her nape, he nudged her gazed upward. “Baby, it’s not possible for me to love it any more. If we were a few hours in the future and on our third or fourth round, there’d be no way I’d be stopping you, but I want the taste of you on my lips when you come for the first time tonight, and then I want you wrapped around my cock on the second.”
Goddamn, he’d never in a million years get tired of that lusty look in her eyes. She shivered in his arms, her hands gliding up his chest. “I guess that means we both better get naked then, huh?”
Trey half-chuckled, half-groaned as he kissed her down to the mattress, skimming his fingers along her skin. “I want you to stay…perfectly…still.” Not only because it was fucking hot, but because if her hands or mouth came anywhere near him again, he’d lose his shit and forget everything he’d said about savoring.
Her nipples, stiffened from arousal, peeked over the rim of the lace bra, directing him exactly where he wanted to go. He curled his tongue around one reddened bud, giving it a slow suck while he gently rolled the other between his fingers. Elle’s breathing hitched, her back arching her breasts into his hold. With a simple twist of her fingers, she gifted him an unobstructed view.
“God, I love front clasps.” Trey worshiped her nipple with no barriers, and nearly beat his chest at her throaty little moan.
That sound drove him fucking insane. It fueled him to sample every inch of her body—her collarbone, the gentle swoop of her neck. Where his mouth wasn’t tasting, his hands touched. No matter how long they stayed at this, he knew that he’d never quite get his fill.
“You with me?” Trey skimmed his mouth down her torso. He kissed her stomach, slid his mouth to the gentle dip above each hip.
“More than.” Elle’s mouth curved into a sultry grin. He hovered over her mound, coaxing her legs wide enough to permit his shoulders, and then slid his hands beneath her backside.
Keeping her focus on him, he dipped down for his first taste of heaven. Slow. Savor. Touch. He took his time,
enjoying the taste of her against his tongue. One of Elle’s hands threaded through his hair.
“Don’t stop,” she demanded breathlessly, gripping the bedsheet in her free hand. “Please, Trey. Don’t stop.”
“There’s nothing on this earth that would tear me away from you, sweetness.”
And he meant it—more than he’d ever meant anything in his damn life.
* * *
Being with Trey was sexual overload waiting to happen. Her body ached to be touched more, yet also craved to be the one doing the touching. When she’d had her mouth on him, her head had gone fuzzy with the knowledge that she’d made him tremble, that she’d pushed him close to his breaking point. Now she was the one close to the edge.
Trey coasted his mouth over her body.
“Please.” She coaxed him closer.
“No begging, baby. I’m going to give you everything you want, and then I’m going to give you everything you deserve. Both in and out of this bed.”
Oh sweet heavens. She couldn’t even wrap her mind around his words, too filled with blinding need. Trey brought her legs over his shoulders, the change in position exposing her like she’d never been before.
It wasn’t only her sexual reservations that melted away. It was the ones about everything else: her relationships, her father, her future. In Trey’s arms, the risk of heartbreak didn’t seem like so much of a risk.
“Eyes on me,” he gently ordered.
Elle obeyed instantly. That intimacy was her undoing. Her pleasure erupted against his tongue as she came. Trey stayed with her, rubbing and humming, bringing the peak of her orgasm even higher.
He skated his mouth back to her lips.
“No more waiting.” She cupped his backside and, with a firm squeeze, urged him between her thighs, where he teased them both by rubbing the tip of his erection against her clit—and then slid home.
Trey pulled back and thrust again, slow and deep. “You feel so un-fucking-believable. Touch yourself for me, Elle. Help me make you come.”
