I imagine his beard scuffing my sensitive neck, moving around to my back, following the line of my shoulders. I imagine threading my fingers in his hair and kissing him hard…
My stomach is fizzy, my core hot and slippery, and I don’t realize the water has stopped until the bathroom door jerks open. “Are there any more towels?”
A column of light streams across the room, illuminating me naked, in only his shirt.
“Oh!” It’s a gasp, my breasts rising and falling with each quick breath. “I was just… I…”
I don’t know what to say.
He hesitates, and his lips part, his dark brow lowers.
My eyes travel down his bare chest, and my head gets light. His skin is tanned and something is inked on his upper chest. I can’t read it from here. He has another tattoo on his shoulder leading down to his round, bulging biceps. Deep lines of muscle cut across his torso, and a mouthwatering V disappears into his loose jeans.
Returning my eyes to his face, his jaw is perfectly square, and a cleft is in his chin. “You shaved.”
He rubs his face, stepping into the room. “I wanted a fresh start.”
His face is strong, manly—with a straight nose and high cheekbones. My fingers curl with wanting to touch him. “It’s perfect…”
Without thinking, I take a step closer, ad his shirt opens, giving him a view of everything.
His eyes flinch, and I see the struggle, the flex in his jaw. “What are you doing?”
I glance down. “Trying on your shirt.”
Desire crackles in the air around us and ice blue eyes blaze at me. “You’re playing with fire, Hope. I haven’t been with anyone in almost two years.”
“Neither have I.”
His eyes slowly move down my body like a caress, lingering on my breasts, my hardened nipples, drifting to my stomach, my bare pussy. His throat moves with a swallow, and my whole body is on fire. I want him to kiss me, touch me, anything…
“Give me the towel.” It’s a rough command.
“It won’t do any good.” A high, soft reply.
“I’ll decide that.” He snatches up the soggy scrap of terrycloth and returns to the bathroom, closing the door fast.
Scout lets out another loud snore, and I step back to sit on the foot of the bed, trying to breathe, trying to calm the trembling in my stomach, the raging fire in my veins.
JR Dunne is the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, and oh boy, I would’ve done anything just now for him to touch me.
Jr
I wanted him to say dirty things to me. I wanted him to be rough… Her words taunted me as I lay on the backseat of the car pretending to sleep.
Now I’m gripping the crummy sink in this cheap motel bathroom, fighting the urge to go back out there and take her.
Opening the door, I was pretty sure I’d go blind when I saw her standing in the shaft of light wearing nothing but my light blue shirt. God, she’s a walking wet dream.
Her pink lips parted, and her body… Small breasts rising and falling, dark nipples tight, peeking at me from inside the fabric. It took every single ounce of will power to keep myself in one place. My hands shook… My hands are still shaking.
My dick is a steel rod, aching for her tight body. Fuck. I step into the shower, flicking on the water and grabbing the tiny bottle of cheap conditioner. Closing my eyes, I rest my forehead on my arm. I imagine bruising her pink lips with mine, turning her to the wall and pushing in from behind.
Her soft voice transforms to moans as I slide my hands from her stomach up to her breasts, kneading and caressing, tweaking the hardened tips. One hand would go between her thighs, stroking and circling her clit until she’s begging for more.
She likes it rough. I need it rough. After this long, it’ll be hard to stop. I see my large hands covering her soft ass, squeezing and lifting her. I see her small feet rising onto her toes with every thrust, and it doesn’t take long before orgasm snakes up my thighs, centering in my cock, and pulsing into the stream, disappearing down the drain.
Coughing to hide my groan, I stay there until the water is no longer warm, and I’m able to leave this tiny bathroom without thinking about touching her. She’s right about the towel. It doesn’t dry me off for shit, although it doesn’t help I’m the third person to use it.
Snatching up my jeans, I jerk them over my hips before opening the door. I move slower this time, quieter. Scout’s still sawing logs on the couch, and I scan the room for her. She’s curled on the bed in that thin yellow dress. Her eyes are closed, and she seems to be sleeping.
My blue shirt is on the chair with a Deluxe Inn notepad on the table in front of it. I’m sorry is crawled across the top sheet.
I study her a moment. Her light hair is wavy against her cheeks, and her face is relaxed. Her skin has the slightest gold tone, like she’s been in the sun, and her nose tilts up at the end. Her lips are full and pink, and damn, I want to kiss her. I want to fuck her hard, but I want to kiss her softly, pull her lips with mine, touch her nose.
Stepping away, I scrub my hands over my face, forcing these thoughts to stop.
I don’t know where this is coming from. I don’t even know this girl. I’m exhausted and frustrated and too much anger is driving me. I have to stay in control. The last thing I can afford to do is make a foolish mistake with this dreamy-eyed girl, this innocent who stumbled into my path and doesn’t belong here.
Going to the other chair, I set my phone alarm to wake us in two hours and try to get comfortable. We’ve got to get on the road and make up for lost time. The sooner I get to Fireside, the sooner I can take care of business—and put both of them on a bus back to California.
Jr
It’s a long day driving across Texas, with a whole lot of nothing to see except miles and miles of flat, brown desert dotted with cacti and, I imagine, rattlesnakes.
My brother seems to have caught up on all his words. He’s quiet in the backseat most of the day, watching out the window with a Red Vine in his mouth. Hope seems withdrawn, and I guess it’s because of our moment. She leans against the door, and I think she’s asleep.
I’m pushing us hard—mostly because every time I glance at her, I still see her blue eyes looking up at me so open and needy. I’ll probably never forget the sight of her small breasts, nipples tight, beneath my shirt.
I have to forget.
We’ve been driving since morning, stopping only for gas and snacks. At this point, we’ve gone ten hours on Red Vines, Slim Jims, and sunflower seeds, but I want to get through Texas. We switched from I-10 to Interstate-20 several hours ago, and we’re on the other side of Dallas, closing in on the state line when my brother comes to life.
“Come on, man, we’ve got to stop for food,” he groans, shifting in his seat. “I can’t eat another Red Vine.”
“Can you make it to Shreveport?” I glance at him in the mirror.
“Only if you let me drive.”
“Deal.”
We make one last pitstop in Longview to gas up and switch drivers. Hope hangs back, looking cute in that dress and those boots I bought her, sneaking glances at me as we stand around, stretching our legs and waiting on my brother.