Page 64 of Whiskey Throttle
“You want a prize if you win?”
“Not if, when I win.”
He doesn’t flinch. Just steps closer, drops his gaze down my body. I feel every inch of heat. Wanting more of yesterday, right here in his private archery room.
“Then pick your prize now.”
I arch a brow and say the first thing that comes to mind.
“You. Naked. In the rain.”
He chuckles. His blonde hair glistens under the recessed lighting above his head. His eyes glimmer, but it’s his smolder that’s really getting to me.
“Is that what you really want, Babs?”
It’s a hundred percent not what I want. Yet, changing my mind is a weakness. Decisiveness is always more lethal, especially when it comes to men. Even more true when they are young, hot, and cocky as can be.
“I want to watch the rain slide down that tanned skin of yours. Guiding me where my tongue should follow.”
His breath hitches, his hand cups my waist, pulling me against him. His cock is hard and ready.
“If you win.” His fingers capture my chin, raising it closer to his lips. His breath is mine. “I’ll give you more than a show.”
My bow rests against my body, now digging into his by proximity. I raise it slightly, using the tip to push him back. An obvious challenge to everything he says. It’s not enough pressure to hurt him, but he moves away. His hands fall from my body.
If I have any shot of winning, I need him and his perfect body as far from me as possible. He settles back into the stall next to me. His fingers caress the bow while staring at me.
“Then get ready to lose, Hollister.”
I lift the bow again, laser-focused.
Unfazed, he asks, “You forgot something.”
I adjust my position, looking from the target to him. Slightly annoyed at his obvious distraction from my setup.
“What?”
“If I win, you forgot to ask what I want.”
My exhale is breathy and intentionally loud. He doesn’t react.
“It’s highly improbable, but should you win, what do you want?”
He licks his lips instinctively. Without thought, his eyes drag up and down my body again.
“You. On your knees. Wearing only my necklace.”
A shiver dances down my back. Wetness pooling into my lacy panties. I’m so turned on, I hold my breath to clear the pulse from my ears.
“Sounds like I win either way.”
He makes a mockery of his sweeping bow.
“Ladies first. Age before beauty.”
I scoff, but inwardly, I love the banter. The competitiveness. The vitality of his youth, before life hardens him into a curmudgeon like the rest of us.
“You’re confusing age with experience. Watch and learn, junior.”
