Then he snags his hat back and swings me into another song. No footwork. No technique. I simply float in his arms as he dips, drops, and lifts me through aerials, waterfalls, and slides like I weigh nothing.
The firmness of his hands heats my skin. The confidence in his stance revs my blood. His unwavering attention weakens my knees and melts my bones.
When we reach the end of the fifth or sixth song, I’m so aroused my panties are soaked.
“I need to use the ladies room.” I leave him with a kiss and push my way through the congregation.
The locals might be leery of me, but they didn’t hesitate to crowd around the dance floor to watch me rub up against their favorite cowboy.
After a short wait in line, I step into the single-occupancy bathroom and empty my bladder. As I wash my hands, I cringe at the reflection in the mirror. Sweat dampens my hair, face, neck, and… I lift an elbow. Yep, armpit sweat.
“Jesus, you’re a hot mess.” I gather paper towels and start dabbing.
Am I glowing? I blink at the mirror, and my mouth wobbles. Definitely glowing. My eyes are bright, my cheeks flushed. I’m radiating happiness, and I feel it, from the roots of my hair to the tips of my toes. For the first time in six years, I feel like myself again.
It’s the ranch. It’s Ketchup and Jarret and Jake. But most of all, it’s the sense of overwhelming relief. My shoulders fall back without thought. My boots feel twenty pounds lighter. Every ugly, twisted, bitter regret inside me is still there. It’s just easier to carry now. I no longer feel burdened by it.
I no longer have to carry it alone.
The sudden urge to grab my guy and drive home with the windows rolled down turns me toward the door. I swing it open, and a huge body storms in, shoving me backward.
“What the—?” I stare up at Jake’s face, and my heart slams against my ribs.
He locks the door and prowls toward me with a carnivorous glint in his eyes.
I stumble back with nowhere to go in the small room. He stays on me, and we circle each other, assessing, waiting to see who will make the first move.
Should I run for the door? Or surrender to whatever he has in mind?
As if I have a choice.
“There’s a line for the bathroom.” My voice is breathy.
“Let them listen.” He sets his hat on the sink behind him. Then he lunges, catches me in his arms, and crushes my chest against his.
“Jake—”
His kiss punishes my mouth with its potency. His tongue invades, and I yield, liquefying in his heady embrace. His hands capture mine, pinning my wrists behind my back as he thrusts his hips up against me.
He’s holding my wrists. It’s a powerful feeling. A fucking invigorating feeling, and I throw my head back, inviting him to lick a fiery trail down my neck.
“I need inside you.” He wraps a hand around my throat, his breaths erratic. “Right here. Now.”
Other than the barn, I’ve only had sex in a bed. That’s what this is about. Yeah, he’s horny. But it’s more than that.
Everything he does is so intricately planned and thought out, so attentive and respectful. Banging me in a public restroom isn’t meant to degrade me. He’s reinforcing his dominance, letting me know that he decides when, where, and how.
Damn if that doesn’t make me hot in all the right places.
As he forces my back against the door and fucks my mouth with his tongue, I relinquish control and gladly turn over the burden of power into his capable hands.
His fingers release my fly, and he crouches to push my jeans and panties to my boots. Then he shoves up my shirt, yanks down the cups of my bra.
“Fuck, Conor.” He kisses and bites my breasts, plumping them up in his hands and lifting them to his ravenous mouth. “Watching you dance, putting my hands all over you… You’re so goddamn sexy.”
He grinds his erection against my bare thigh, sending a fresh gush of wetness between my legs. Then his hand is there, sliding along my sensitive flesh and sinking inside.
I swallow noisy gasps of pleasure as he fingers me into a single pulsating throb of need.
Just as I’m about to peak, his hand vanishes, and the sound of his zipper shoots a thrill through my body.
“You’re going to come on my cock.” He tugs down his jeans.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and fumble my mouth against his, ravaging his lips with mindless urgency.
He lifts me up the door and lines up his cock with the entrance of my pussy.
Then he pushes in, hard and fast, seating himself to the root.
We groan together, shaking and clinging to each other. I’m tied up in my clothes, leaving all my weight in his hands. The jeans around my boots bind my ankles and allow my knees to open just enough for him to slam into me.