Some Girls Do

by Leanne Banks

  Keeping her eyes firmly on a rust-colored stripe in the sofa, she lifted her hands to her back and tugged at the catch of her bra. She felt it the second it was released. Taking a deep breath, she lowered the straps and slid the bra from her breasts.

  Daring a glance at Douglas, she saw his eyes fasten onto her nipples. He stared and took a deep breath, then he met her gaze. “Wilhemina, I hope you don't mind me saying that you have got the most beautiful breasts I've ever seen in my life.”

  “You don't think they're too big?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “Not at all.”

  She felt her nipples grow taut under his gaze. Her skin felt hot.

  “They're just beautiful,” he said, wiping his hand across his forehead as if he, too, were hot.

  When he continued to stare, she felt the slightest ripple of amusement. “Well, are we going to play another hand?”

  Douglas blinked, looking up at her. He nodded. “Yeah,” he said. “I need to deal. Here we go.”

  He dealt the cards and this time Douglas lost. He removed his shoe.

  Wilhemina soon learned that all she had to do was move her upper body just a little bit and Douglas seemed to lose all concentration. Using her edge, she won five more games in quick succession.

  “I'm not doing too good,” he grumbled. With his socks, shoes, and belt surrendered, he had to move onto something more substantial.

  Wilhemina couldn't wait.

  With a trace of self-consciousness, he quickly unbuttoned his shirt and shed it.

  Wilhemina stared, enraptured by his hard muscular chest. In some distant part of her brain, she registered him dealing another hand, but she couldn't take her gaze from his chest. More than anything, she wanted to touch him. With her mind halfway on the game, she discarded and drew her cards. Before she knew it, she had lost.

  Which meant she would have to remove her skirt. “Oh, damn,” she muttered, fighting a trace of panic.

  “What'd you say?”

  “Nothing,” she said, reluctant to continue, but determined. She considered her options. The only items left were her skirt and panties. If she removed her skirt, then she would have her panties. Or. An idea struck her. It would only buy her time and a little modesty. She smiled and stood, lifting the back of her skirt and sliding her panties down to her feet. Kneeling, she picked them up and tossed them onto the sofa.

  Douglas stared at her panties as if he'd been scalded. His Adam's apple worked as he audibly swallowed. “I didn't expect that.”

  She shrugged and his gaze fell to her breasts. “Another game?”

  He sucked in a shallow breath and nodded, his eyes hazy with desire. Desire for her. The realization went straight to her head and every other feminine pulse point in her body.

  “Coming right up,” he said, and dealt the cards.

  She barely beat him, but she did and he ditched his jeans. Wilhemina bit back a moan at the sight of his strong thighs. She couldn't not look at what was between them. Wilhemina was so hot she felt as if she were in an oven.

  Douglas dealt another hand and it took a long time to play. She got so distracted looking at him she would forget to discard and draw. He seemed distracted too. He kept wiping his jaw. Finally, he won.

  “Oh, shit”

  “I heard that,” he said with a rough chuckle.

  “I wanted you to have to—” She broke off, the fire in his gaze making her lose her voice.

  “You wanted me to have to what?” he asked with just a hint of a taunting tone. “Take it all off?”

  She nodded, fighting nerves and arousal.

  He must've seen both. “I'll take something else if you want to give it,” he offered.

  “What?”

  “A kiss.”

  A kiss. A thrill raced through her. Just a kiss or more? she wondered. Nodding, she moved closer to him and offered her lips. His mouth descended and she felt the room turn upside down. Her achy unfettered breasts brushed his hard chest and he groaned. The delicious sound vibrated in her mouth. He slid his tongue inside to taste her and she felt herself begin to melt. He caressed her lips and tongue and before long, she felt his arms wrap around her, drawing her against him.

  Her head cloudy with arousal, she wrapped her tongue around his and he groaned again. The sound generated a buzz between her thighs where she felt damp and swollen. She felt so many different sensations she couldn't catalog them all. She instinctively rubbed her sensitive breasts against Douglas, craving more, and his mouth nearly devoured hers.

  He pulled back slightly, gasping as hard as she was. His eyes dark and sexy, he looked like a man on the edge.

  Wilhemina was so worked up that the notion didn't frighten her at all. “I don't want to play poker anymore,” she told him in a voice that sounded breathless to her own ears.

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I want you to kiss me again,” she said, her heart beating so loud she was sure he could hear it.

  “If I start kissing you, it's gonna be a long time before I stop,” he warned her, giving her yet another chance to ran away.

  “Promise?” she asked, and watched his eyes turn to midnight.

  Letting out a growl, he pulled her against him. “I promise,” he said, just before he took her mouth again.

  He kissed her for so long she felt dizzy. She felt as if she wanted him to touch her breasts forever. When he finally did, a moan bubbled up from her throat, surprising her.

  He used his fingers on her nipples, then followed with his lips and tongue, and Wilhemina thought she would die from the pleasure. The pressure building between her thighs was indescribable.

  His mouth still laving one nipple, Douglas slid his hand under her skirt, up her thigh to where she was wet and achy. He stroked her intimately at the same time he gently nibbled her breast. The combination tightened the coil inside her until she could barely stand it.

  Unable to stop herself, she began to moan.

  Douglas continued to stroke her and Wilhemina felt a spasm of pleasure so intense she jerked with it. She felt as if she'd been pitched over the edge of a precipice and she was flying through the air. “Ohhhh, yessss,” she moaned, completely out of control of her faculties. She moaned again.

  “Oh, Wilhemina, you're killing me,” Douglas said. “Touch me, baby.”

  It took a full moment for her to comprehend what he was asking. He placed her hand on the bulge beneath his briefs and she rubbed him, not knowing exactly what to do. He didn't appear to mind. Closing his eyes, he tilted his head back, his face the picture of sensual pleasure. She slid her hand beneath his briefs and touched him He groaned. “Oh, hell. I'm not gonna last.”

  Clamping his hand over hers, he met her gaze. “We're finishing this in my bed.”

  Her heart pounding, her head swimming with renewed desire, she nodded. He stood and picked her up, surprising her. She bit her lip to keep from protesting. He swept her into his bedroom and onto the bed, dug out the condoms from the bedside table and ditched his briefs.

  His size gave her pause.

  “You look worried,” he said, settling beside her and pulling her skirt down inch by inch.

  “You're big,” she said, pulled between uneasiness and arousal.

  He dropped a kiss on her lips and slid his hand between her thighs. “You're wet,” he whispered. “And ready for me.”

  He kissed her and played with her and she forgot her uneasiness. Before she knew it, he had pushed her thighs apart and he kneeled over her. What a glorious sight he was in full arousal.

  He plunged inside her and her eyes about popped out of her head.

  “Shit! You're a virgin.”

  Wilhemina bit her lip against the quick, overstretched sensation. “Not anymore,” she said breathlessly.

  Douglas's nostrils flared. “Well, hell. Why didn't you tell me?”

  “I got distracted,” she said, feeling helpless and not so desirable.

  Douglas swore under his breath.


  “Do you think you could move slow?” she asked.

  He let out a long sigh mixed with a chuckle. “If I don't die first. I feel like I'm gonna bust.”

  Reassured and wanting to please him, she wiggled experimentally. “We can't have that.”

  He shook his head. “Oh, Wilhemina, don't do that. Honey, don't—”

  “Doesn't it feel good?” she asked, continuing to move as her body adjusted to his.

  “Too good,” he said roughly.

  “Don't you like feeling too good?”

  He groaned and gave her a look of surrender. He began to thrust inside her in a rhythm that rendered her totally mindless. She felt the pressure inside her begin to build again. Her body began to reach and search for release. Feeling herself get closer and closer, she began to moan.

  His gaze, filled with desire for her, and the primitive movements of his strong body taking her were too much. She felt the pleasure snap through her again and a scream of passion soared from her throat.

  Douglas bucked inside her, his body bowed in hot scalding release, he muttered her name over and over again. Rolling over, he brought her with him, clutched against his side.

  Wilhemina was still whirling in space and time, unable to stifle her moans of satisfaction.

  “Oh, God,” he muttered, his big body quaking with aftershocks. “Oh, God. Big breasts, and she's a moaner and a screamer. I've died and gone to heaven.”

  “A woman's curves, can pack more punch than a double-barrel shotgun.”

  —SUNNY COLLINS'S WISDOM

  Chapter 14

  It was a mean crowd.

  Michael glanced at Katie every half minute. During the alternating thirty seconds, he'd watched three fights break out within the last hour. Going to Slim Jim's Saloon had partly been an act of desperation. He and Katie had combed every other bar and dude ranch in the area with no luck. The rough, basic furnishings, predominant male clientele, and advertisement for topless floor show suggested an atmosphere where Wilhemina wouldn't have felt comfortable.

  But there was a thunderstorm coming down like the wrath of God, so the rodeo had been called off. Cowboys full of unspent energy crowded into the small building. Someone gave Michael a hard shove that he returned with a hard look.

  He glanced over at Katie again and she pointed to her hand. Michael gave a slow nod. Just before they'd walked into the bar, she'd taken his hand and told him not to use his fist tonight. The protectiveness got under his skin at the same time that it made him uncomfortable. He wasn't accustomed to anyone interested in his health and welfare. He didn't need that kind of interest, but some part of him liked it.

  He had wondered if she would return to her glacial state after he'd kissed her last night, but she hadn't. A flicker of amusement raced through him. She just seemed to be trying her best to pretend that it hadn't happened. That was one thing he liked about Katie. She almost always tried her best.

  Brushing aside his preoccupation with her, he strode to the other side of the bar and approached a reasonable-looking man. “You come here often?”

  “Often enough. Why?”

  Michael pulled out a photograph of Wilhemina. “I'm looking for this woman. She's missing. Have you seen her?”

  The man pinched his chin and scrutinized the photograph while the man beside him elbowed in. “Whatdoeshewant?” he asked, slurring his words.

  Even from three feet away, the man's breath was so strong, Michael thought the place would start on fire if someone struck a match too close to his mouth.

  “He asked me if I come here often and if I've seen this woman,” the first man said.

  The drunk man frowned. “Well, it's none of his business whether you come here often or not.”

  Great, Michael thought. A reasonable man with a drunk friend. He knew better than to argue. He pulled out his card and gave it to the reasonable man. “If you recall seeing her—”

  “Now just hold on a minute,” the drunken man said. “Where're you from, anyway? You don't sound like you're from around here.”

  “I'm not from around here,” Michael said without answering the man's question.

  “Snooty too, huh?”

  “Frank, he's just looking for a woman,” the reasonable man said.

  “Well, he can find one somewhere else,” Frank said.

  Michael turned around to walk away and shook his head to himself. Suddenly he felt a hard push at his back and he pitched forward, barely stopping himself from falling. “What the—” He turned halfway and a man's fist came out of nowhere, smashing into his jaw. Pain vibrated through his face and head.

  Reeling, Michael stumbled backward, running into another man.

  “Hey, watch where, you're going,” the man said and shoved him hard.

  “Nobody turns his back on me,” Frank said. “Especially some damn northerner.”

  “Haven't you heard? The Civil War was over a long time ago,” Michael muttered, feeling a twinge in the back of his neck as two men joined Frank. They all looked like they were itching for a fight. If he wasn't careful, the whole bar would turn on him.

  “You didn't turn your back on Frank when he was talking to you, did you?” one of the men standing beside Frank said.

  “Hey, boys,” a familiar feminine voice drawled from behind Michael. He whipped his head around and saw Katie standing on top of a table. Damn, he had to get her out of here. She tossed him a let-me-handle-this look and gave a slight jerk of her head.

  “I see y'all hold a wet T-shirt contest every Wednesday night. I was wondering if you think I might qualify.”

  Michael watched, stupefied, as she lifted her shirt and flashed her breasts. A chorus of wolf whistles ripped through the bar. His first instinct was to jump in front of her, but she gave him another hard glance with a jerk of her head.

  Michael finally grasped her message. She was distracting these men so he could get out of the bar alive. Pushing back the impulse to snatch her off the table, he sighed, in disgust at how the situation had gotten out of hand and slipped out the door.

  The rain fell in sheets. Michael walked toward the car, then stopped. There was no way he was leaving without Katie. He barely turned back, and she flew out of the bar door like a bat out of a cave.

  “Hurry up!” she called, running toward him. “I think I distracted them long enough that we can get away.”

  “Can't imagine why you would think that,” he said, still boggled by the fact that she had flashed half a restaurant full of men. “How did you get out of there?”

  “I tossed them my bra. They were fighting over it when I ran out.”

  “You tossed them your bra?” he yelled, fighting the oddest urge to return to the bar and retrieve her undergarment. “You tossed your bra to that pack of wolves!”

  “It was a cheap underwire and very uncomfortable. If fate is kind one of them will put it on and get struck by lightning.”

  He shook his head. “I can't believe you—”

  Her hair plastered to her head, she tightened her mouth. “I had to distract them.”

  “Distract is putting it mildly,” Michael said, pulling her toward the car. Unlocking the door, he tucked her into the car, rounded the front of the vehicle, got in, and looked at her. She was wound tighter than an overstretched string on a violin getting ready to snap. He hated the hollow vulnerability he saw in her gaze.

  “If you make one comment about my breasts, I will hurt you,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

  Michael started the car and peeled out of the parking lot. “That wasn't the first thing on my mind. Why in hell did you do that?”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “They were going to pulverize you.”

  “I appreciate your confidence in my ability to protect myself, but—”

  She shook her head. “You don't understand. They were going to gang up on you because you're an outsider and they were going to beat you up.”

  “So why didn't you leave my sorry ass there and let them?”
he asked in a low voice as he turned down the road that led to their motel.

  She bit her lip and looked away. “If you get beat up, there's no way we'll find Wilhemina.”

  He suspected she would sooner cut out her tongue than admit that she cared about him. The knowledge that she would go to such lengths for his safety boggled his mind and tugged at other parts of him. “So it wasn't personal,” he said, unable to keep from baiting her.

  “Of course not,” she said with a sniff.

  “So, except for the Wilhemina issue, you couldn't care less whether I live or die,” Michael said, impatient with whatever had been popping and buzzing between them since the first time they'd met. He turned the car into the motel parking lot, which was riddled with potholes full of water.

  She opened her mouth as if she were going to agree that she didn't care about him at all, but she looked at him and something in her eyes sparked, then softened. She sighed. “I didn't say that.”

  “So it is personal,” he continued, not totally certain what drove him to push her. He'd watched her dole out smiles and kindness to strangers, and all that watching had made him feel deprived. And greedy.

  “You're not quite as much of a jerk as I thought you were.”

  “And you care about me.”

  “Well, I care about Chantal,” she said with a testy smile. He leaned closer. “But Chantal doesn't turn you on.” Her eyes widened.

  “You don't want to kiss Chantal.”

  She opened her mouth, but when he brushed her lips with his, he could practically hear the protest stick in her throat. “I think we've danced with denial just about long enough, Priss,” he muttered and took her mouth. He tasted her surprise and arousal and something sweet that made him think of violins. He tested vulnerability and strength, and everything he tasted made him hungry for more.

  The rain beat a pounding rhythm on the car as the kiss went on and on. She lifted her hand to his arm, clinging to him, never taking her mouth from his, stoking the fire that burned inside him. He felt her breasts brush against his chest and despised the wet clothes between them. He had never wanted to feel every inch of a woman's flesh more than now. His desire for her felt like the rain, forceful, inevitable, and unstoppable. Her wild, heroic gesture at the bar had put him over the edge. No one had ever rescued him. “