Texas Heatby Denyse Bridger
“It’s Cheyenne, Chase,” she reminded him.
He nodded. They’d done this dance before. There was something too familiar about her, but he couldn’t pin it down. The now customary flare of annoyance woke inside him. Half his damn past was missing since he’d come home from Iraq. Maybe he’d known her once, though he
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“It’s Cheyenne, Chase,” she reminded him.
He nodded. They’d done this dance before. There was something too familiar about her, but he couldn’t pin it down. The now customary flare of annoyance woke inside him. Half his damn past was missing since he’d come home from Iraq. Maybe he’d known her once, though he couldn’t imagine forgetting someone like her. “Something I can do for you, ma’am?”
She laughed and dropped the tailgate on the pickup, bending over with what he knew was deliberate intent. There was no denying the appeal of her well-shaped ass in the tight jeans, and his cock twitched in response. She turned, tossed him a beer, and sat on the tailgate looking at him while she took a swig of her own drink.
Chase opened the can of beer and drank half of it. He strolled to the truck, braced his arm casually on the side as he stared at her. “You haven’t answered my question, Cheyenne.”
She twisted around until she faced him, and cradled the cooler between her breasts. Her nipples were clearly outlined and pushing against the thin cotton of her tank-top.
He met her candid stare and grinned at the challenge in her expression.
“Why don’t you like people, Chase?”
“I like people just fine, ma’am,” he said. “I prefer my own company to that of idiots.”
She considered his reply then shrugged. “Do you consider me an idiot, Chase?”
He laughed. “No, ma’am.”
“Good answer,” she said.
“I have work to do, Cheyenne.” He finished his beer and tossed the can into the ice-filled hamper containing the rest of the six-pack she’d brought with her.
“You work for me, too, Chase,” she reminded him softly.
He took a long look at her, his appraisal meant to be offensive and blatant.
At only a little over five feet tall, Chey was stacked and curvy in all the right places. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and she wore no makeup.
He dropped his gaze to her breasts, fingertips tingling as he contemplated what her skin would feel like, and taste like if he leaned in and took one of her ripe nipples into his mouth. She slid a little bit closer to him and he shook off the heat that was building inside him. “Thanks for the beer, ma’am. I’ll be getting back to my work now.”
He would have left but she grabbed his arm and he was too aware of the pebbled point of her nipple brushing against his bicep.
He put a finger over her lips, silencing her as he shook his head. “Baby, I know what you want, but I’m not playing that game.”
She slid her hand along the front of his jeans, stopping to squeeze hard and his manhood reacted instantly and pushed against the heavy denim.
“I want you to screw me, Chase,” she whispered, her gaze locked with his, the glint in her dark eyes a clear dare. “I think you want it, too.”
He smiled and let the predator in his nature emerge in his expression. More than one woman had backed off when his smile went dark and warning.
Cheyenne’s eyes widened, but she didn’t back down. Her chest rose and fell as her breaths quickened with obvious excitement.
You don’t know what you’re asking for, Cheyenne,” he told her. “I don’t play nice.”
“Maybe I don’t want nice?”
He needed to push her away while he still had some control over the situation. He took
the bottle she’d been clutching and tossed it aside, grabbed her ponytail and eased her head back, exposing the graceful curve of her neck. Leaning in, he licked the smooth hollow at the base of her throat, smiling against her skin when the tang of sweetness and sweat touched his tongue. “You have no idea how tempting you are, Cheyenne, but I like my job here, so you have to go.”
She moved her head a bit, what her restricted freedom would allow. When she laughed, the whisper of her breath fanned across his skin. “I’m not going anywhere, Chase.”
“Yes, honey,” he paused, smiled, and finished, “you are.” He let go of her and stepped back, adjusting his jeans as he fought down his arousal. “I have work to do, and screwing you isn’t part of my job.”
- New Dawning Books
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- 1 MB
- Age Range:
- 18 Years
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