Page 82 of Lady Be Good (Wynette, Texas 2)

“Then drive!”

She bit her bottom lip and pressed the accelerator. “There! I’m going thirty. I hope you’re satisfied.”

“The speed limit’s sixty.”

“You think I’m afraid to go sixty? I’m not!” She died a thousand deaths, but she got the speedometer to fortyfive. The cars continued to stack up behind her.

She heard teeth grinding. His words had a tight sound to them. “Pull off up there on the right. Put on your turn signal.”

Because she wanted to pull off, she did what he said.

“By that crooked tree. Turn there.”

Horns blared behind her as she took the corner too fast and ended up in the sandy soil next to the narrow dirt road.

“You were supposed to slow down first!” he yelled.

“You didn’t tell me that. You told me to go faster.”

“Not when you’re turning!” Once again she heard that awful tooth-grinding, then a deeply inhaled breath. “Never mind. Just keep going till you’re behind those trees.”

When she finally stopped the car, she was so relieved she felt limp. She propped her arm on top of the steering wheel, rested her forehead, and closed her eyes.

She sensed movement and heard him turn off the ignition. The leather creaked as he settled into the seat. Time ticked by. The unsteady sound of her breathing rasped in her ears.

Finally, something warm curled around the back of her neck. Rubbed. “You crying, Lady Emma?”

“No,” she answered as firmly as she could. “Just thinking about it.”

“Why don’t you come over here and think about it?” He drew her close, and the next thing she knew, she was curled against his chest.

It was cozy. Comforting. H

e smelled nice. Clean shirt faintly overlaid with baby.

She refused to cry. Still, it felt good being where she was.

His breath tickled her ear as he spoke in a husky voice. “Would you think I was an insensitive jerk if I slipped my hands inside your blouse?”

She thought about it, then shook her head.

His fingers tickled her skin as he reached between them to unfastened the buttons, then opened the catch of her bra. He traced the shape of her breast with his thumb and kissed her. Then he said softly, “I enjoyed last night.”

“I did, too.”

“You make nice sounds in bed.”

“I do?”

“Uh-huh.” He touched her nipple.

She gave a hum of pleasure.

“Like that.” He shifted her position and his mouth settled over the sensitive tip. He tugged. She arched and gave in to the delicious sensations. When she could no longer hold still, she pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and slipped her hand inside to feel that warm, taut skin beneath her palms.

It seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. Within seconds, her blouse hung from her shoulders, her shorts lay in a heap, and her panties draped from one calf. She wasn’t idle, either, and his shirt soon joined her shorts. Through the open zipper of his jeans, she saw navy silk boxers.

“I . . . need to do this.” He shifted her so that she leaned back against the opposite side. Then he spread her legs and lowered his head.

---