Page 64 of Bull Rush

The smile drops from his face, and I feel sorry I stumbled on the wrong discussion. I thought the idea of playing again might make him happy, and apparently, it’s more of a minefield than I realized.

“I don’t know. I miss it. A lot, if I’m honest with myself. Watching it on the TV isn’t the same. But I don’t know how great my chances would be, and I…” He glances over at me and then back at the road. “I have other priorities that are more important to me right now.”

“Like what?” I play coy as I run my hand over his thigh.

“Like my wife looking gorgeous tonight,” he answers, shifting in his seat as I lean against the center console. He glances down, and his eyes fall to my cleavage.

“So sweet of you to say, Mr. Stockton.” I run my hand along the seam of his jeans, first teasing his balls and then following it up to where I feel him going hard under my hand.

“Fuck, I love it when you call me that,” he rasps as my fingers run back down.

“I know you do,” I say softly as his eyes snap in my direction when he sees me lean further, reaching for the buttons on his jeans. I make quick work of them, one after the other all the way down until I’ve only got the cotton of his boxer briefs keeping my palm off his cock.

“Haze…” he hisses when I run my hand over him again.

“I haven’t had you in my mouth yet, and I need it.” I coax the band of his underwear down gently with the tips of my fingers until the head of his cock is free. I see the tension in his forearms, and I follow the sight down to where his hands are white-knuckling the steering wheel.

“Not on the road. I can’t handle it.” He lets out a weighted breath.

“I tried to get you to go to a room.” I tease the pads of my fingers on the underside of the head.

“I’m trying to get you where we’re going in one piece.” He grits his teeth when I wrap my hand around him.

“You could pull over,” I offer, lifting my lashes to watch him contemplate the idea. I can tell he’s fighting with himself, trying to be a gentleman and listening to his better angels, but I’m desperate to push him over the edge. A low rumble of want and frustration comes out of his chest, and he drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

“Haze, darlin’… have some mercy on me. I’m begging you,” he pleads, glancing over to shoot me a pained look before his eyes return to the road. It’s enough that it has me letting him go and sitting up straighter.

“You’re serious about this?” I ask, more curious than upset. I want him, but that he’s trying so hard to hold back has me invested in where we’re headed.

“Just for the next hour or so. Then I promise I’ll make up for it by doing unspeakable things to you the rest of the night.”

“I’m going to hold you to that.” I flash him a look, smiling at the way relief floods his shoulders. I readjust the fabric on his boxers and pull his shirt down. “Just don’t forget to button back up before we go in.”

“Noted.” He smirks at me.

TWENTY-NINE

Ramsey

When I walkher inside Seven Sins, she looks at me skeptically, waiting as I pay the cover charge, then letting me have her hand as we walk toward the bar for a drink.

“I don’t want to criticize your choices since dinner was amazing, but this is the reason we couldn’t just go home?” She raises a brow and glances around the crowded bar.

“Just gotta trust me, sugar.” She nearly had me in the car and destroyed any chance of me getting her here. But I managed to drum up just enough willpower. I wave down the bartender because I need a shot before I embarrass myself, and she might need another drink so she doesn’t laugh. Mostly I’m just biding time, wishing I hadn’t put myself up to this.

But as I look at her sipping her whiskey and Coke, talking to Dakota, and looking as happy as I’ve ever seen her, it feels worth it. They’re laughing about something, and then it quiets, and Dakota looks up at me, amusement dancing in her eyes.

“You ready, cowboy?” she asks.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“All right. I got you.” She winks and then takes off down the bar.

Haze whirls around, and her brows lower with confusion and a hint of accusation.

“You’ll see… Finish your drink.” I nod to what’s left of the amber liquid in her class, and she complies.

She finishes just as the first notes of “Neon Moon” come over the speakers, and I hold out my hand. She stares at my palm for half a second, like she’s not quite sure what I want, before she finally puts her hand in mine. Her lashes flutter, and then she looks at me again.

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