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And it’s then that I murmur, “Okay. But this means nothing.” In response, Rhett growls and dusts his lips across mine.
His hands are possessive on my body. Pulling me tight against him almost aggressively, while cradling my skull so delicately, and kissing me so carefully. He lights me up. He burns me down. And I bask in his heat.
The people, the sirens, Rob’s presence. It all blows away like dust on a dirt road as I kiss Rhett back. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t be kissing this man. This client. I definitely should not be kissing him back. But sometimes being responsible is exhausting, especially in the face of someone as irresistible as Rhett Eaton.
It’s me who pushes my tongue into his mouth. It’s me who steps even closer, feeling his hand slide down to my ass as he crushes me against the steely bulge in his pants. It’s me who moans when he presses it against me even harder.
And yet I’d have to be an idiot to deny there’s a connection here. The bickering. The jokes. The goddamn teenaged crush.
He makes me weak in the knees. Suddenly, I want him closer—I want more. And as I squeeze my thighs together and feel my core clench, I realize my body wants that too. Which is a problem.
I’m just trying to stay upright after the most mind-blowing kiss of my life. Fake kiss.
His pinky finger wraps around mine tenderly before he moves his hand to the small of my back, guiding me safely across the road and making my chest flutter.
But I did imagine a wedding night with him. A long time ago. I haven’t in years. But I might be tonight.
Summer: Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m at the staff meeting. I trust you to hold it together for one afternoon. Rhett: Shit, Princess. I don’t know. I might go crazy without you. Summer: For ducks’ sake. Summer: Duck Summer: *Duck Summer: FUCK. Ugh. Why can’t my phone learn that word? I’ll be back around dinnertime. Rhett: Quack.
When we go to the gym, she’s not as hard on me. She’d enjoyed coming up with the hardest core exercises she could imagine. Like, tossing me a ball while I stand one-legged on a Bosu ball. When I would stumble, she’d laugh. But now, she offers me words of encouragement. And it’s fucking weird. I hate it. I’ve grown to like her pestering. Her snarky little digs. I crave those interactions with her.
But even negative attention from Summer feels like a reward. If she wants to dress me down, I’ll let her. I like the way her cheeks pink, the way her bottom lip pouts out, the way her eyes roll. I’d like to make them roll in other ways too, tip back as her lashes flutter down. The view from between her legs would be spectacular, I just know it.
“Rhett Eaton. What. The. Fuck. Do you think you’re doing?” Raspy. Just like that. I look up just in time to see her riding on my mount, in a flowy white dress and fucking snakeskin boots. If her face was a little more Please fuck me, sir and a little less I’m going to kill you, I’d be hard at the mere sight of her.
“That”—she points again—“is how three men in their thirties blow off some steam? Why can’t you just be a normal male idiot and make me endure chasing you around while you try to fuck all the buckle bunnies?” I stare back at her, a little taken aback by her outburst. “Is that really what you’d prefer?”
“Get up, you big idiot.” “You making me ride bitch, Princess?” I wedge a boot in the stirrup and swing myself up a little awkwardly. “If the shoe fits,” she grumbles, urging the horse forward.
She seems out of breath, just like the poor horse we’re riding. “What did you do? Gallop into battle?” “Not before reaming your brothers out. But yeah, I didn’t know what kind of trouble you’d be in. If you’d need help.” She was rushing to help me. To be there for me.
A deep laugh rumbles in my chest, and I feel her push back into it, her back flush against my chest now as we crest another rolling foothill. It feels really fucking good holding her in the cage of my arms. She’s relaxed with me, and I get off on that.
I don’t miss the wobble in her voice, and as much as I want to stay and scoop her up and do everything in my power to make her feel better, I don’t.
I wish I’d been here to see Summer go off on them. Her caretaker side is strong. But as much of a people pleaser as she might be, she has this vicious streak. This protective streak. And I fucking live for that.
When she finally comes into sight, my breath freezes in my lungs. She’s a vision in a billowing white dress, cinched tight around her waist, and tall boots. Toned thighs make the odd appearance through the slit in the skirt. Her small hands are curled into fists at her side, and she’s staring at the ground, muttering to herself, dark strands floating across her face.
I let go of the fence post and hold my arms open wide, while crooking my fingers toward myself. “Come here.” “That’s a bad idea.” She rolls her eyes and nibbles at her bottom lip, but I get the sense that’s mostly to chase away the glassiness shining in them. She makes me wait, but eventually, she steps into the cage of my arms, and I wrap them around her. For the first moments she maintains a polite distance, but when I drop my head and let out a sigh against the crook of her neck, she melts closer. One arm slung over my shoulder while the other tentatively traces my ribs. And I just hold her
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I reach down and hitch her leg up, wrapping it around my waist. Right where it belongs. “I was so wrong about you. And now? Now I’m not confused at all.” My fingers give her toned thigh a firm squeeze, and my mind runs wild with how it would feel to have her entirely wrapped around me. This fucking body.
She hasn’t pulled away. In fact, her fingers are tangling in the hair at the base of my skull, pulling my face closer to hers, whether she realizes it or not. And then her mouth tips up. Her body is saying yes, but her words are saying she’s not so sure.
I’m trying to keep this relationship professional. I need to keep this relationship professional if I’m going to work in this industry. I can’t manage athletes if I’m hooking up with them. You need to find someone else to play this game with.” That last sentence is a slap to the face. Partly because she thinks all I want from her is some cheap hookup, partly because the thought of her with other men makes me insane, and partly because I know she’s not wrong.
That’s what someone responsible would do. But I’m not that responsible. Which is why I only almost feel bad about touching Summer Hamilton. There isn’t a single other woman I want to play this game with.
Butterflies dance in my stomach at the thought of coming face to face with him after practically climbing him last night. He was the perfect gentleman, never taking more than I was willing to give. But there’s this part of me that wishes he had. Then I wouldn’t be kicking myself for not telling him to kiss me again. Because I just know that having Rhett Eaton kiss me for real, not because my ex is watching, would be different. Good different.
I reach for the container filled with beans just as Rhett does and our hands brush, sending sparks over my skin as I snatch my hand back and look up at him. At his scowl. At his warm golden eyes narrowed on where I’m clutching my hand against my chest now. The Eaton boys are a whole mood this morning.
As I move ahead of him, I glance over my shoulder. Only to bust him staring at my ass. I bought myself a pair of light wash Wranglers this morning from one of the vendors on site and, clearly, Rhett approves.
With everyone around me screaming his name and cheering for him, someone who’s been theirs for over a decade now, he feels like mine. Because he’s staring at me.
Rhett: Your daughter is what’s wrong. Kip: I don’t even believe you. That girl is one of the best people I know. And I’m not just saying that because I’m her dad. Rhett: Yeah, she is. That’s the problem.
All I can see is her back, the taper of her waist where her brand new WBRF t-shirt is tucked into those tight-as-fuck jeans, cinched with some belt that has a colorful stitched pattern on it. The way they hug her hips where her body flares out is distracting beyond comparison.
“Whatever, man. Just saying. You can’t take your eyes off her. It’s almost like you’re jealous.” I resolve, right here and now, to not look over there again. “Of Emmett Bush?” I snort. “That’ll be the day. I’ll start highlighting my hair and going for facials to get his Ken-doll glow just so I can be more like him.” “You definitely don’t sound jealous at all,” Theo mocks. I take another aggravated swig. “Good. Cause I’m not.”
She’s grinning widely, and when she looks at Emmett, her top teeth dig into her bottom lip. Those fucking lips. She gives a small nod and giggles as she does it. Looking so carefree. So young. So much happier than she usually does in my company.
My brain is fried, and my cock is thickening. I want to throw her over my shoulder and carry her out of here. Put my mark on her. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt.
“Your girl can ride, Rhett,” Cindy says, nodding over at Summer. Of course, she can. She’s strong. That she can sit on a mechanical bull better than the average person doesn’t surprise me one bit. I’ve watched her work out, watched that ass clench in her tights. I’ve watched sweat trickle down between her tits, her lips parted as she pants from a tough session.
I chance a glance over my shoulder because I’m a seriously weak son of a bitch where Summer Hamilton is concerned.
This time, I stand straight up, catching sight of Summer as she pulls Emmett’s cowboy hat off and plunks it on her head as they head over to the bar across the room. And that’s it.
Like she truly has no goddamn idea how crazy she drives me. How badly I want her.
“Not a fucking chance.” Emmett turns to glare at me, all that polite, sunny, farm boy bullshit persona melting right off him. “Beat it, Eaton.” “Did you not hear me, Bush? I said not a fucking chance. I know your games. Play them somewhere else. Breathe on this girl the wrong way, and I’ll end you right here rather than just kicking your ass in the ring.”
Summer puffs out her chest in my direction and my eyes drop to the swells of her breasts, the line of cleavage, and the vertical scar that traces up the center. “Put it in.” I groan. She nibbles on her lip, aware of what she’s just said.
Either way, I want to get her the hell out of here so I can bend her over and spank her perfect ass for putting Emmett’s hat on. Put her on her knees and shove my cock between those lips that have been taunting me for weeks now. Watch her eyes widen when I hit the back of her throat.
“You want me to lick whipped cream off you, Princess?”
I crouch low, pressing my tongue to her bare skin as her hands mold to my shoulders. My mouth slides over her sternum, and I don’t bother being polite about it either. I lick, I drag my teeth, and when I get to that soft dip, I suck at her skin before I press a gentle kiss against her. Her fingers grasp my shirt, and her eyes are laser focused on me when I spare a glance up at her face. I give her my best cocky, panty-melting smirk and dive back down between her breasts. One of her hands slides over the back of my neck, her fingers raking through my hair before taking hold. My lips wrap around
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I stand tall and wrap an arm around her waist, tugging her against me as I tip my head back and down the shot. I can feel her heart pounding against my ribs. She fits right under my arm, like that spot was meant for her.
“Okay, my turn.” Emmett tries to step in, but I turn Summer away under the shelter of my arm. The thought of letting her go now is almost unbearable. To him, to anyone. Turn? This isn’t bowling, asshole. “I already told you. Not a fuckin’ chance.”
Cool air that I desperately need after Rhett Eaton just set my entire body on fire. I’m mad at him. I’m hot for him. And those two things blend until they’re almost indecipherable.
Why does he have to be the first guy since Rob who gives me butterflies in the chest? And not the same kind I got as a horned-up teenager staring at pictures of him. These butterflies almost hurt. They feel like they’re writhing beneath my skin, taking over my stomach, impeding my vision. Because all I can see is Rhett. On the back of my eyelids when I sleep, and with me all the fucking time when I’m not asleep.
Rhett looks like a downed power line sparking in the dark. And I think I’m about to pick that line up and let the electricity course through me.
I realize I was wrong. He’s staring at me like he wants me. Really wants me. Like he aches for me. Like he might melt, just for me.
Rhett Eaton will ruin me if I give him the opportunity, and I don’t even know what to do with that. I think I might want him to ruin me.
