Page 27 of Protected By West
Tracy stepped out first, still holding onto his hand. She turned around to face him, her cheeks filled with color, but her eyes were bright with something he thought might be... excitement.
Or maybe anticipation?
He stepped out after her, almost coming toe to toe with her.
"I really want to know."
She bit down into her bottom lip and it took everything he had not to kiss her senseless and forget dinner.
She took a step back, keeping a solid hold on his hand. Then, with a roll of her eyes as if she couldn't believe she was about to say the words that came out of her mouth.
"I was wondering if you knew any tricks with a rope."
He grinned at her as the blood pumped faster through his veins. "I've got some skills that I'll be happy to show you later."
He watched as the tips of her ears turned red with color and her lips parted on an exhale.
Tracy turned away then, walking them toward her room.
Weston was left looking at the back of her head and the curves he couldn't wait to get his hands on.
When they walkedinto Tracy's room, Weston stayed by the door. He didn't trust himself any deeper in the room.
The bed was too damn close.
It was hard enough knowing that she was in the bathroom, changing clothes.
The door was open just a crack so he could see colors and lights through the opening.
He couldn't see her exactly, all he could do is imagine.
And he had a really good imagination.
The bathroom door opened a few minutes later and Tracy stepped out as her hands finger combed her hair back from her face. Then she took a clip off of the front pocket on her jeans and clipped her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck.
Weston didn't want her to put her hair up, but he knew it made sense. Loose hair and barbecue sauce could be a recipe for disaster. The jeans she was wearing were worn, but they fit like a glove. She laughed when his gaze met her feet. She was barefoot at the moment with her toenails painted red.
"Sorry, my shoes are out here."
He shook his head and moved his hand until he was holding the brim of his hat with both hands. It was a convenient excuse to hide how tight the fit of his own jeans had gotten in the front. "I'm curious what you're going to wear."
She sat down on the edge of the bed and reached down. She slipped some sandals on and Weston watched as she secured the straps around her ankles.
He had no idea what it was called, but he liked the look of it.
He liked everything on her.
Tracy finished securing the second sandal and stood up, smoothing her hands down the sides of her T-shirt, a black shirt with the Pistol Annies printed on it in Vintage Font with six-guns and flowers as decoration.
Smiling at him, she gestured to her shirt. "It's dark and has lots of color. If I get a stain it probably won't show. Lord knows I'm not wearing a white T-shirt to a place with sauce."
He straightened from the wall and hoped that the walk down to the lobby would be enough time that he wouldn't give everyone an eyeful of how he felt about the woman at his side.
It didn't help that she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm as they moved through the lobby.
The valet was worth their weight in gold and had his Chevy Tahoe at the curb and Weston opened the passenger door for Tracy before watching her climb up into the vehicle.
Yeah, her jeans were perfect. Just enough to stretch to show him just what it was wrapped around.
