Red-Hot Texas Nights

by Kimberly Raye

  His hands went to her tight, round ass, and he pulled her even closer. He rubbed his throbbing erection against the cradle of her pelvis. His fingers slid beneath the lace of her panties and felt her bare flesh beneath. Her skin was hotter than he remembered. Soft. Electrifying.

  Holy shit.

  Urging her backward, he eased her down onto the bed. He captured her mouth in a deep, intense kiss that lasted several heartbeats before he pulled away and stepped back. He thought about slowing down, about taking his time and committing every moment with her to memory, just in case this was, indeed, the last time, but the hard-on throbbing beneath his jeans got the better of him.

  He worked the buttons free on his shirt and let the material slide from his shoulders. He unfastened the button on his jeans and pushed the zipper down. The pressure eased and the edges gaped and he could actually breathe for a few seconds.

  Until she pushed to a sitting position and leaned forward.

  Her fingers touched the dark purple head of his erection where it pushed up above the waistband of his briefs. He ground his teeth against a burst of white-hot pleasure and braced himself against the need beating at his brain. Her touch was just so damn soft and he was so hard and the contrast was tying him into knots.

  He needed to touch her. To taste her.

  He stared down at her. At the dark-red nipple that pushed through the lace-patterned cup of her bra. He pushed her back, leaned down and flicked his tongue over the rock-hard tip. She gasped, the sound catching in her throat and sending a sizzle of electricity up his spine. It was the sound that haunted his dreams at night. His fantasies.

  His memories.

  He drew the nub deeper into his mouth, sucking her hard through the flimsy covering.

  Her fingers threaded through his hair and held him close. He relished the feel of her flesh for several heart-pounding moments before he pulled away. He gripped the cups of her bra and pulled them down and under the fullness of her breasts. The bra plumped her and her ripe nipples lifted in a silent invitation that he was hard-pressed—literally—to accept.

  Still, he wanted to look, to watch the tips pebble and harden beneath his gaze. To see her need in the tight, fierce response of her lush body.

  But she wasn’t about to let him put on the brakes.

  When he didn’t lower his head and suckle her again, she reached for him.

  “Please. I need it now.” There was no shame to the words, no embarrassment to the admission because the Brandy sitting before him wasn’t the same girl who kept it all covered up in front of the rest of the world.

  She was different.

  Wild. Sexy. Bold.

  Here. With him.

  Crazy.

  He didn’t know what she did and who the hell she did it with when he wasn’t around. But he wasn’t fool enough to think he was the only one.

  The notion sent a burst of possessiveness through Tyler, feeding the need to stand out in her mind, to brand her his. And that meant not only pressing on the brakes, but holding them down long enough to make sure she felt everything he did to her.

  He hooked his fingers at the thin straps of her panties and followed the tantalizing path down her long legs. She had the softest skin. So pale and perfect beneath the rough feel of his fingertips. When he had her naked with the exception of the bra pulled beneath her luscious breasts, he leaned up and let his gaze sweep the length of her.

  She was even more sexy than he remembered. Sexier than the first time. The last time. And anything in between.

  Sexier than anything he’d ever imagined, and he’d done plenty sitting behind her in English class. She’d been two years behind him in school, but they’d both ended up in the same sophomore English because he’d missed so much school trying to work two jobs and go to class that he’d failed the stupid course twice. He’d passed with flying colors that year because he’d been in his seat every single day. No way was he missing the opportunity to stare at the sweet curve of her neck beneath her blond ponytail. How many times had he wanted to reach out, to trail his fingers down that subtle sweep of skin?

  He should have. Hell, half the boys at Rebel had done just that, or so they’d said.

  But he’d gotten a different vibe from Brandy herself. Despite her voluptuous body and sultry air, there’d been something innocent in the gleam of her green eyes. She’d never teased or flirted or come on to him. She’d been almost shy.

  Then again, she’d been a Tucker. Too good for the likes of a low-life Sawyer, and so he’d taken her reluctance for snottiness.

  Until that night after the last football game of the season. She’d been stranded at the game without a ride, her hands stuffed in the pockets of her tight blue sweater as she’d stood outside in the cold, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright. She’d been waiting for her sister, who’d been stuck working late, and he’d been dragging ass out of the locker room after a crushing loss.

  They’d had three injuries during that play-off game, enough to kill their chances for a district championship. Not that Tyler had given a shit about any of that. He just liked to hit, to spend his pent-up aggression and take it out on someone with no chance of retaliation. Football had been his saving grace back when he’d been a kid and the world had been against him. His one shot to fight back against that big bitch of life for dealing him such a rotten hand.

  His chance to be in control, to call the shots, to turn the tide in his favor.

  There’d been no turning the tide that night. He’d gotten two penalties and a bruised shoulder and then his coach had yanked him out of the game.

  He’d stayed late to ice his injury and the entire stadium had all but cleared out by the time he’d walked through the locker room door.

  Brandy had been the only one still hanging out other than a few of the custodians.

  She’d stared at him as if she meant to run the other way, but then she’d walked right up to him and kissed him full on the mouth.

  That had been all the encouragement he’d needed. He’d loaded her into his beat-up Chevy, driven her to the rodeo arena and they’d shared the first of many booty calls to come.

  He’d been her first, much to his surprise, but he wasn’t fool enough to think that he’d be her last.

  His muscles tightened at the thought and he trailed a finger down the barely there strip of pubic hair and watched her tremble. He knew what she liked by now and he didn’t waste any time giving it to her.

  He traced the slit that separated her lush pink lips and she caught her bottom lip as a groan trembled from her mouth. Her legs fell open and the soft pink flesh parted just for him.

  Dipping his fingertip into her steamy heat, he watched her eyes go half lidded. A soft stroke and her head fell back. Her mouth opened and a gasp worked its way up her throat. She caught her bottom lip, her teeth digging in as he went deeper, pushing, exploring. He worked her, sliding his finger in and out until her essence coated his flesh. A drop trickled over his knuckle and down his palm, and electricity sizzled up his spine.

  Hunger raged inside him and he dipped his head, flicked his tongue over the swollen tissue, and lapped up her sweet essence. Sure enough, she tasted of blueberries and sugar and something more intoxicating than the most wicked shot of moonshine.

  At the first contact of his mouth, she arched up off the bed and her hands grasped his head. Soft, strangled gasps trembled from her lips. He swirled his tongue around her clitoris and felt the tip ripen for him. She whimpered as he sucked the sensitive nub into his mouth and nibbled until she tensed beneath him.

  Her fingers clutched at his hair, tugging desperately in a grip that was just short of painful. The sensation fed his ravenous desire and made his breath quicken. He laved her once, twice, and her breath caught on a ragged gasp.

  “Please. I need it now. Right. Now.”

  But it had been two long years since he’d been with her and he wasn’t about to have it over with just like that. Gathering his control, he pulled away. Not n
ow. Not yet. That’s what he told himself.

  But then his gaze collided with hers and he saw the fierce glitter in her eyes—a mix of desire and desperation that he felt as fiercely as she did.

  She didn’t want to wait. She couldn’t wait.

  And suddenly neither could he.

  He snatched up his jeans and retrieved a condom from his pocket. After sliding on the latex, he settled between her legs. Bracing himself, he shoved his penis deep into her wet heat and caught himself, his arms braced on either side of her head.

  Christ, she felt so good. So fucking good.

  Her body welcomed him, fitting so tight and snug around him. His heart pounded double time as he relished the sensation a full moment before gripping her lush hips and driving into her again.

  She closed her eyes and arched against him, meeting each thrust until his body shook and his cock throbbed. Pleasure drenched his brain and he knew he was close.

  But he wasn’t going anywhere without her.

  He reached down between them and parted her flesh just above the point where he filled her. He caught her swollen clitoris between his thumb and forefinger and squeezed lightly, pushing her higher, pulling him up to the point where he hovered just this side of ecstasy.

  “Yes,” she moaned, her body convulsing around him as the orgasm hit her hard and fast.

  He buried himself deep one last time. His body tensed and his muscles tightened and … there. His cock exploded and he clenched his teeth against the force of it. A shudder ripped through him, vibrating along every nerve ending as he spilled himself. He collapsed atop her, holding her close as her inner muscles milked him and worked another groan from his tight throat.

  The seconds ticked by as he fought to draw an actual breath. When he managed, he loosened his hold and rolled onto his back. He reached for her, but she’d already moved toward the opposite side of the bed. Turning on his side, he leaned up on his elbow and watched as she pushed to her feet and started to retrieve her discarded T-shirt.

  “I really need to get going,” she murmured—the same thing she always said before she pulled on her clothes and hightailed it out of his bed. “I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”

  “You and me both,” he murmured, watching as she pulled the denim up and over her sweet round ass. Regret ebbed through him and he barely resisted the urge to reach out and haul her back into bed for Round Two. He wanted to touch her again, kiss her again, shove his cock so deep inside that he forget where he ended and she began.

  Two years, he reminded himself.

  Plenty of time to send any normal, red-blooded man over the edge into the land of the sexually deprived.

  While he’d had plenty of opportunity to hook up on the road and sate his appetite, for some reason he just hadn’t had the time. He’d been too busy busting his ass and keeping his nose to the grindstone. And then, during those few free moments, he’d just been too damn tired. A man had to sleep, after all.

  Now he was horny as hell and wanting more from a woman who clearly didn’t want more from him.

  He sat up, tossing his legs over the side of the bed just as she shoved her feet into her sneakers and grabbed her keys and purse.

  He caught her wrist just as she was about to turn, hauled her down, and gave her a deep, hungry kiss.

  And then Tyler did what he always did.

  He let go and watched her walk away.

  CHAPTER 8

  It was six a.m. on the dot when Brandy arrived at Sweet Somethings, after five of the best hours of sleep she’d had in a really long time. She felt rested, recharged.

  Mostly.

  She had spent the entire drive home from the rodeo arena battling the damn lust that chanted more, more, more.

  But she’d needed to go home, get some sleep, keep her head on straight and so she had.

  Mostly.

  She had spent an extra forty-five minutes tossing and turning and thinking that it had been two years. Two long years and so she was definitely due for more than just a one-night stand as was the norm whenever he rolled into town for a day or two here and there.

  One fall from grace.

  That’s all she gave herself. One chance to cut loose and unleash the bad girl deep inside before she bottled it all up and went back to pretending.

  But this was different.

  This wasn’t six months. Or eight. Or maybe even a year since she’d last cut loose. This was two years. Long enough to have earned herself a second encounter. Maybe even three.

  Provided she had the time what with everything going on at the bakery.

  Her body ached at the thought and she stiffened. Time and place, she reminded herself, and today was neither. It was Saturday. Her busiest day of the week. Add the fact that she still needed to get in touch with Kenny Roy, and she was all but swamped. Too much so to even contemplate cutting out early and paying another visit to Tyler McCall.

  Even if she had desperately missed the purposeful glide of his hand down her back these last two years and the press of his fingertips on the underside of her breast and the feel of his lips at the hollow of her throat—

  “Looks like somebody was busy last night.” Ellie’s voice pushed past the images rolling through Brandy’s brain and yanked her back to reality and the fact that she was no longer alone in the bakery.

  Ellie sat her purse on a nearby shelf and reached for an apron, a gleam in her eyes.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” The words were out before Brandy could stop them.

  “That somebody was busy.”

  As in getting busy, Brandy’s conscience chided.

  “You made all this bread,” Ellie went on, glancing at the tray of fresh-baked loaves. “You must have spent half the night here after we got back from Kenny Roy’s.”

  “I, um, wanted to be prepared.” She reached for a tin of cupcakes she’d just scooped and slid them into the oven before setting the timer and turning back to move the bread to the cooling racks. “It’s Saturday. Busiest day of the week.”

  Which meant she would have zero time to think about Tyler or the fact that one night hadn’t been nearly enough. She wanted him again. And again.

  Not him, mind you. It.

  She liked sex. She missed it.

  Because she was every bit the bad girl that everyone thought.

  She forced the thought aside. So she liked sex? Contrary to popular opinion, she wasn’t ruled by it.

  Not now. Not ever.

  “Are you okay?” Ellie’s voice drew her attention and she glanced up to find the woman eyeing her. “You look a little flushed. You’re not coming down with something, are you?”

  “Of course not. I’m fine. It’s just a little hot in here.” She busied herself pulling down the nearby thermostat. “There. That’s better.”

  “Because if you’re not feeling well, I can handle things here.”

  Brandy gave her a pointed stare. “It’s Saturday. That means the Senior Ladies Auxiliary will be stopping by to pick up desserts for their weekly book club and the chamber of commerce will want enough apple turnovers to hand out at the local farmers market, not to mention we’ve got to furnish the desserts for the PTA luncheon and finish the Wilsons’ fiftieth-anniversary cake.”

  One cake, she reminded herself. As opposed to the two or three or four special-order cakes she needed in order to secure a spot with Hill Country Happily Ever Afters. A dream that would never happen if she didn’t get another moonshine sample in time for her meeting with Foggy Bottom Distillers.

  “I know we’re busy today, but I can still cover if you need to take a break.”

  “I don’t need a break. All I need is more days like today.”

  Busy. Chaotic. Consuming. Enough so that she managed to push Tyler’s image to the back burner and focus on work for the rest of the day.

  “So I was thinking,” Ellie said later that afternoon, “that maybe I could get off an hour early tonight. If it’s okay.”

  Brandy arched an
eyebrow. “Hot date with the boyfriend?”

  “Just a girls’ night. You can come if you want to. I mean, it’s just Lila and me.” She motioned to the woman busy decorating the last of the cupcakes that were headed for the First Presbyterian Church and tomorrow morning’s Sunday school. “Her hands are always so cramped after doing cupcakes for the hellions, so I thought we’d hit the Watering Trough and unwind.”

  “I’ve got way too much left to do here since we started staying open on Sundays,” Brandy replied, “but thanks anyway. You two go on.”

  Ellie shrugged. “You know where we’re at if you change your mind and want to toss down a couple of shots.”

  But it was going to take a lot more than alcohol to relax Brandy. She needed something much more potent.

  Someone much more potent.

  Time and place, she reminded herself. And while a Saturday night was usually the perfect time, it wasn’t on this particular Saturday night. Not when she had a bucket of bubbling mash and no one to hand it off to just as soon as it was done.

  A few days at the most, she judged after a quick check to make sure the mash was sound and secure and still working its magic.

  For now.

  But she had a limited amount of time to corner Kenny Roy and get the scoop on his connection, and so she wasn’t about to head out to the rodeo arena for another booty call with Tyler McCall.

  No matter how much she suddenly wanted to.

  CHAPTER 9

  “Don’t tell me you’re still at work,” Callie said when Brandy picked up the phone later that night.

  “Okay, I won’t tell you.”

  “Darn it, Brandy. You’ve got to lighten up just a little.”

  “So sayeth the woman who’s held down two jobs since the age of sixteen and is still, the last time I looked, juggling both.”

  “I’m just helping out Les at the real estate office until he finds a replacement. Then I’ll only have the column at the newspaper to worry about.” Callie had found not only the man of her dreams, but the job as well. She’d spent years wanting to be a journalist and just recently she’d landed her very own feature column with the local newspaper. What’s Happening in Rebel detailed the latest and greatest goings on in their small town and was both insightful and funny thanks to Callie’s wit.