Page 20 of Texas Hold Em'
It felt like freedom.
“You were the one riding like hell tonight, not me,” I breathed as he moved closer, filling up the space between us.
My heart hammered away in my chest, beating a rhythm I’d never heard before. My bones thrummed with anticipation and I wondered if Tex could feel it as he put a hand on my hip and slipped a finger into the waistband of my jeans.
“It was kind of fun while it lasted, wasn’t it?” His voice was low and soft.
“We almost died.”
He nodded and looked down as he opened the fly of my jeans with a flourish of his wrist. “We did.”
“You have a strange definition of fun.”
“Admit it,” he breathed as he slid his hand down the front of my jeans. I gasped as he touched me. The warmth of his palm against my flesh sent a tremble through me. I caught his wrist with both hands, and he stilled. His gaze, hooded with lust, met mine. “You liked it.”
My heartbeat quickened as I remembered how it felt to hold him so tightly as we fled for our lives into the night. I thought of the thrill and the sheer terror as the bike went down, and the spike of adrenaline that brought the clarity and control I needed to roll to my knees and fire off those shots. In that moment, I was the woman I knew I’d been born to be.
Not the one bound to a desk pushing papers like all her superiors wanted.
I let go of his wrist and whispered, “I did… like it, I mean. Minus the almost getting shot part. And the crashing part. I could have done without that.”
“Woman,” he purred, “stop talking.”
His lips crashed into mine.
He stole all the air from my lungs as his tongue plunged into my mouth. He seized the front of my jacket in one fist and held me against him while his fingers rolled over my clit. I whimpered, caught in the grasp of a man who had done things I couldn’t fathom with the very hand moving inside my jeans. The thought spiked my blood pressure and a rush of dizziness broke over me. Pleasure rolled through me, and Tex must have felt it because he chuckled against my lips and pressed a finger inside me.
I clung to him.
He pressed in deeper and let out a low growl of satisfaction when I sighed. It felt so damn good.
“You can’t lie to me now, princess,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear. “I can feel how much you like the thrill. The rush.”
I squirmed in his grip.
He released my jacket to rip my jeans down, pin me against themetal door, and force his knee between my thighs. “And here I was, thinking you were a good girl with southern values.”
His hand found my pussy again. I was so wet for him. He rubbed me in slow circles while I fumbled with my tongue, which felt thick and useless in my mouth as he pressed two fingers inside me.
“I am a good girl,” I managed.
He trailed kisses down the side of my neck. “Good girls don’t lie.”
“I’m not lying.”
Tex fucked me to a delicious rhythm with his fingers. “A good girl would tell me to stop.”
No. Stop playing games with me.
He pressed a thumb to my clit. “So tell me to stop, princess.”
He didn’t stop. He kept working me, and he knew damn well the position he was putting me in. Part of me wanted to tell him to stop—I wanted to fulfill the role of being a good girl and maybe string him on a little longer. Obviously, I had him right where I wanted him.
And he had me right where he wanted, too.
I’d be a fool to believe otherwise.
Tex stopped using his magic hands and unzipped his jeans. He let them fall around his knees and pulled open a drawer in the kitchen within reach. He pulled out a condom, pinched it between two fingers, and waved it in front of my face, taunting me for an answer.
