Page 48 of In the Dust

He slides one of his fingers under the hem of my shorts.

“Press this one right here. It’ll put the engine into medium speed.”

Okay.

“Now, push this to start the separator.”

Check.

“Start the header.” He points at yet another button. “And put the engine at full speed.”

He slides another finger into my shorts, playing with the hem.

“Lower the header down with the number two button. Make sure it’s nice and level.” His warm palm squeezes my thigh, and I have to fight with my mind to concentrate on the task at hand. “Now, press the gas and let’s start harvesting some corn.”

I don’t know what the fuck he’s saying right now. All I can think about is his minty breath on my neck and the placement of his calloused hands against my smooth skin.

Focus, Dixie.

“Why don’t you control that, and I’ll control the steering wheel?” I suggest.

“Alright, just make sure to keep it straight,” he replies.

Keep it straight? That’s kind of hard when his rock-hard body is against mine and he’s back to playing with my shorts. This is what I get for teasing him this morning.

Jackson pitched in to help today and is driving the tractor next to us. He’s pulling a grain tank that will catch all the kernels that the arm spits out from the combine. Its size catches me off guard.

“That arm is huge.” My eyes widen, and I let out a squeal as Colton grabs my hips.

“I got an even bigger arm right here for you, darlin’.”

I let out an uncontrollable laugh. “And an even bigger load too, I bet.”

He nestles his nose into my neck, nipping at my sweet spot.

“Such a perv,” I joke.

Colton’s laugh is deep and vibrates through my body. I could get used to this.

“See? It’s not too bad,” Colton whispers into my ear.

“No.” I swallow. “Not bad at all.”

With his left hand, he runs his fingers up my thigh, stopping just under the edge of my shorts.

“You got this.” He slides his hand to my inner thigh, stopping when my breath hitches. “What’s wrong, Dixie?” Colton mumbles into my neck.

“Nothing,” I lie as goosebumps raise on my arms and the hair on the back of my neck prickles. “If we keep this up, we’ll crash into something.”

His hand goes still. “You’re right.”

Wait.

“I said I’d keep my hands to myself.” When his calloused hands leave my skin, I’m left wanting more.

Of course, after he gets me worked up, he wants to keep his hands to himself.

Definitely payback.

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