Page 46 of The County Fair Queen

"Yeah?" I asked, using my pinky to push back a particularly uncooperative eyebrow hair.

Before I could react, his hand was unbuckling my seatbelt, and he pulled me close, until I was resting right at his side. He fastened the center seatbelt around me, and then his arm looped around my shoulder. I probably should have pushed him away and returned to my original seat, but it was like my entire body was made of lead. I couldn't have moved if I'd wanted. Even worse, I didn't think I wanted to.

"You comfy?" he said.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the only thing that left me was warm air. Rivers stared at me like he was trying to stare into my soul. With his hand in mine, he flashed that overzealous smile of his and leaned in. Our foreheads touched, and he rocked his head back and forth; the sensation sending sparks of static up and down my spine. For a moment—the most beautiful moment—I thought he might kiss me. That right there, in his unnecessarily oversized pickup truck, Rivers Rivera was going to press his lips against mine and suck. Our noses grazed, the contact quick, but purposeful. Somewhere along the way, his palm landed against the side of my face and I had to close my eyes for fear of falling.

"Beautiful," he whispered. "So damn beautiful, baby." His lips grazed the corner of my mouth and worked upward, landing firmly against my cheek.

It wasn't the first time I'd flirted with Cupid or his ridiculous arrows. Romantic getaways. Leisurely lunches in Paris. Being rocked to sleep in the arms of a kidnapper-slash-Daddy-dom. All of those moments—those tiny, insignificant building blocks that shaped me into the man I am—none of them ever felt as monumental as Rivers Rivera's lips puckered against the side of my face.

And then, as if he hadn't just cracked me to my very foundation, leaving every piece of me raw and exposed for the whole world to see, Rivers flicked on his truck's ignition. As the engine roared to life, he held me against him, as if I was the most precious thing in the entire world.

A section of fabric between his shirt's buttons had bunched thanks to the way he was seated, giving me the slightest glimpse of a hidden grove. Brown skin and more of that thick black chest hair that I'd seen at the ranch. I slid two fingers in the hole and let them rest against his chest, relaxingly running them through his hidden grove of hair.

"Careful," he said. There was a gravelly texture to his voice I'd never heard before. "I pride myself on being a gentleman. You keep that up and you're going to find out just how ungentlemanly I can be."

I bit his shoulder playfully. "That so, Mr. Mayor?"

"Damn straight."

Chapter Ten

EULAH FELIZ IS A STRONG, VIRILE WOMAN

We made it to the city square twenty minutes later. Though the fair didn't open for another three hours, there were already swarms of people congregating on the courthouse lawn. I wasn't sure if they were actual picnic-goers, or if Brenda/Carole had just kidnapped testy Tallulahns to use as window dressing for the show. Blankets and breakfast picnic baskets dotted the blades of grass like patchwork. Rivers guided us through, dipping and dodging around the other residents, his hand holding mine. In the distance, Brenda-maybe she's this Bernadette person people keep mentioning-Carole and the camera crew were already filming. He led me to a vacant blanket and basket near the crew, his hand pressed against the small of my back as he eased me to the ground. I wasn't sure when I'd become an invalid, or when Rivers Rivera had assumed the role of seeing-eye-human, but I didn't pull away from his touch.

He pulled a smorgasbord from the basket, laying pre-planned breakfast dishes out like an all you can eat buffet. There were scrambled eggs that looked drier than dust, bacon fried so black I feared I may chip a tooth, and an assortment of cut fruits that seemed to be at the last of their lifespan. The centerpiece, however, was a sight for sore eyes. Two takeaway containers sat at the bottom of the bag, and when he set one in front of me, I couldn't have kept the smile off my face if I'd tried. It was an old dietary staple; tried and true. Two waffles smothered in honey, with a healthy dollop of cotton candy in the center.

"Rivers? Cotton candy waffles?"

He cleared his throat. "I just thought you might like something familiar."

Without waiting for a fork, I scooped up the ball of cotton candy and popped it into my mouth. "How the hell do you know about my unhealthy breakfast food addiction?"

"What you said the other day, about me not noticing you when we were younger," he said.

"Yeah?"

"I noticed you, Phillip." A rush of warmth fluttered across his cheeks. "I noticed you a lot."

"I might have noticed you a little, too." I opened Rivers' Styrofoam container and picked up the fluff of cotton candy, dragging it through a puddle of honey. He opened his mouth to object, just as I'd hoped, and I used the moment to my advantage. Reaching forward, I shoved spun sugar into his mouth, eliciting a moan. I must have let my finger linger a moment longer than I should, because when he closed his eyes, his lips closed around my finger. His eyes shot open, staring right into mine.

"Fuck yes," Brenda/Carole hissed, slapping the cameraman on the back. "Go for it, Lake!"

Rivers blinked at me, and his eyes crossed when he stared down at my half-devoured finger. The muscles in his throat worked, as if he was swallowing down the last of his courage. His tongue tickled the tip of my finger, like he was knocking on some nonexistent door, waiting for me to tell him it was okay to enter. The quick nod I gave was all the approval he needed. His lips tightened around my finger, his tongue swirling around the tip. Pulling back, his lips slid against my skin. Never once did he break eye contact. Not as he slowly pulled away. Not as his cheeks hollowed in while he sucked. Certainly not when he leaned forward, swallowing me back down to the knuckle.

"Oh my fucking God," I whispered.

He shelled his tongue around my finger, scraping my skin with his teeth. When he reached the end, he released, an action that produced an audible pop. His tongue darted out and journeyed across his lips, as if he was chasing the flavor of me. I pressed my thighs together by instinct, seeking friction.

He tilted his head back and forth, popping his neck on both sides. When he was done, he turned his attention back to his waffle, stabbing it with a plastic spork. Once he'd hacked away a sliver, he popped it in his mouth and chewed obnoxiously.

"You alright there, Firecracker?" he teased with a mouthful of waffle. "Looking a little red in the cheeks."

"Shut up." I pressed my thighs even closer.

He stared down, arching an eyebrow when he noticed what I was doing. A smile crept across his face, and he laughed softly. "Careful. Don't want Sheriff Harris arresting you for lewd and lascivious behavior."

---