Page 57 of Playing Dirty
“No catch, sweetheart.” I tipped my hat toward the displays. “You point. I pay. Simple.”
She crossed her arms, pretending to think it over. “You do realize that’s a dangerous game to play with me, right?”
“Darlin’, I’ve been waiting my whole damn life to lose this particular game.”
Callie shook her head, but I caught the way her mouth twitched. Still, she grabbed the nearest cowboy hat from adisplay, plopped it on her head, and gave me a look like she was daring me to change my mind.
“Buy,” I said without hesitation. She rolled her eyes but kept going, her fingers brushing lightly over leather boots with a confident touch. Every time she paused on something, I grabbed it and handed it to the salesgirl nearby.
The “buy” pile was already tall on the counter, and we’d been in the store for less than ten minutes.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said when I placed a pair of soft, tan boots into the stack.
“Uh-huh,” I murmured, my eyes falling to her legs as she bent to try them on.
The jeans she wore clung to her like a damn love letter, and I was already imagining them crumpled on my bedroom floor. She straightened up, giving me a look that clearly said she knew exactly where my mind had wandered. “You’re staring.”
“Not denying it.”
We worked our way through the store like that—her pretending to be exasperated, me pretending I didn’t want to haul her over my shoulder and lock the world out. When she disappeared into the fitting room with a little black sundress, my restraint didn’t just crack—it shattered.
Because the second I saw that dress draped over her arm, all I could picture was how it would look sliding down her body, pooling at her feet, my hands on her bare skin.
And that was when I decided there wasn’t a chance in hell I was waiting until we got home.
I counted down all of thirty seconds before I followed. Long enough to make it look casual, short enough that she’d know damn well I was up to something.
The hallway to the fitting rooms was quiet, just a faint country song drifting from the store speakers. I spotted her boots under the door of the third stall.
I knocked once. “You decent?”
Her voice came back low and a little breathless. “Almost.”
That was all the invitation I needed. I slipped inside, clicking the lock behind me before she could protest—not that she looked inclined to.
Her eyes widened, and that dress was halfway up as she adjusted the straps. “Rhett?—”
“Yeah, I know.” I cupped her face, my mouth finding hers before she could finish whatever half-hearted warning she was about to give.
She melted into me instantly, her hands sliding under my shirt, nails dragging just enough to make me groan. I lifted her without thinking, her legs wrapping around my waist like they belonged there.
The tiny space smelled like leather and her perfume, warm and dizzying. I pressed her back against the wall, my hat tipping backward until it fell somewhere behind us.
She bit back a gasp when I pushed her dress higher, the hem bunching at her hips, revealing the smooth skin beneath. Her breath hitched as my fingers traced along her thighs, a shiver coursing through her body.
“We—We have to be quiet,” she whispered against my mouth, her voice a soft plea that only fueled the fire within me, making my blood burn hotter with desire as I pushed the crotch of her panties off to the side.
“I’ll keep you quiet,” I promised, unzipping my jeans and pressing my lips to hers.
It didn’t take long—couldn’t have, not with how much we’d both been holding back, the tension snapping like a taut string. Her fingers gripped my shoulders, nails digging in, her muffled sounds against my lips sending me right over the edge, a wave of release crashing over us both.
When it was over, we stayed pressed together, breathing hard, the heat of our mingled breaths fogging the mirror, lips touching in a tender moment of intimacy. She gave me a grin that was half-satisfied, half-scandalized, eyes sparkling with mischief and contentment.
“Think anyone heard?” she murmured, the question hanging between us.
I smirked, brushing my thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. “Don’t care if they did.”
By the time we emerged from the fitting room, Callie’s cheeks were flushed and her hair a little mussed, which did nothing to help me look innocent. I grabbed the stack of clothes she’d tried on—most of them already marked as mine in my head—and headed for the counter before she could say a word.
