Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
He leads me by the small of my back toward the exit, and the heat penetrates the thin material of my shirt. I even slow down to get a better feel, and he doesn’t disappoint. His entire hand flattens against my back, covering most of the acreage. So big.
As soon as we’re outside, he switches it up and takes possession of my hand. Okay. Okay, Mr. Grange. You got my attention.
A roguish grin spreads across his face when we stop at the back of the truck. Clearly, he’s trying to woo me and succeeding. I glance down at our still clasped hands, not anxious to release it just yet.
A storm brews in his eyes. I don’t know if I should heed the warning or march right into it. My breathing picks up along with my heart rate, that intensity in our shared look has the pregnant pause between us inseminating me on the spot.
Reaching up, he tucks some of my hair behind my ear but leaves the hat right where it is on my head. “I should get you to bed.” This man’s deep voice, the scruff shadowing his jaw, and the way he drags the pad of his thumb over his bottom lip gets me worked up.
“I’ve heard that line before, cowboy. But last time, you didn’t follow through.”
“I got you to bed alright. I just didn’t go with you.” With a nod, he adds, “Which, you know, good and well, was best for both of us.”
I huff and walk around to the passenger side of the truck. Looking back with a different kind of bed between us, I anchor my arm on the side of it and grin. “I actually don’t know if that was best for both of us, but we could give it a go and see where we land this time.” I know he catches the indirect question, the invitation I’ve given with a rolled-out red carpet for the man. I open the door and climb inside. I’m good leaving him hanging. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that Tagger likes to play games. A little cat and mouse here, some tag there, and hide-and-seek in between.
He likes the mystery of me. The man’s starving for a good time. Luckily for him, I am as well. But I really do start to wonder about the type of women he dates back in the city. Surely, I can’t be offering him anything more than they can. And if I don’t, why does he keep taking the bait?
Walking to the driver’s side, he climbs in and silently buckles up. After starting the engine, his fingers flex a few times around the steering wheel before shifting into gear and gripping on tight.
We don’t speak a word as he pulls out of the lot and onto the road that leads to the highway. Just as I’m about to break whatever barrier has sprung between us, he says, “You shouldn’t come onto men like you do, Pris.”
To hear what’s been plaguing him the past few minutes has me smirking. Resting an elbow on the door, I casually lean my head on my hand. “Why not?”
“Because they might take you up on it.”
“I don’t see the problem.” I look out the window when another car passes. They’re few and far between, but the lights shine into the cab of the truck like we’re on a Broadway stage. “If I’m saying it, I mean it.”
“You’re really impossible.” Glancing over at me again, he says, “You’re the kind of person who’s given an inch but takes the whole damn mile.”
“Only if they like it. If they don’t, we can switch positions and try something new.”
“Fuck me, Pris. Either you’re the horniest woman I’ve ever met or you’re all talk with that sweet little mouth of yours.”
“It might not be as sweet as you think it is.”
His grin grows with a shake of his head. “I swear your mind is in the gutter more than any guy I’ve ever known.”
“That’s saying something since you’re best friends with my brother.”
“I don’t want to talk about your brother.” His tone flips to firm, leaving no room for questions.
I push. “Why?”
He glances over with the tip of pain weaving lines into his forehead, a hint of confusion shaping the corners of his eyes, and a tinge of anger staring right at me. He pulls. “Because if I’m not careful, I won’t be able to look him in the eyes the next time I see him.”
Push. “Careful how?”
Pull. “With what I want to do to you.” There’s an edge to his tone that fills his words with caution. I’m thinking it’s the same edge he’s standing on when it comes to me. Will he jump or pull away again?
I angle the hat up in the front when the air thins between us and tensions thicken. “What do you want to do to me, Tagger?”