Page 43 of Sunday's Best

“We’ve already been living together for three weeks. We were planning on sharing the tiny ass livestock trailer for the rest of summer, anyways. My place is so big, you can’t even reach the kitchen counter from the bed.”

My mouth twists, and I shrug one shoulder. “That’s actually a deal breaker for me. I like being able to turn on the coffee and fall back asleep while it brews.”

“We’ll put a coffee machine next to the bed.” His smile sends butterflies whooshing in my belly and a zing of delight up my spine.

I step into him, feeling his magnetic pull humming through my body. The air picks up the charge that’s forever sparking between us. My fingers rap against his firm chest, then stay there. “Go finish your day and clean up that bloody lip.”

“See you at home, angel?”

I lift onto my tiptoes and press a sweet kiss to the non-injured corner of his mouth. “Don’t start any more brawls in the meantime.”

“No promises. I’m the devil, after all.”

Fifteen

Holden’s standing in the open doorway, wearing nothing but a towel slung low around his waist. Dark chest hair snakes down his toned stomach, and a few rogue water droplets treat the curves of his muscles like a waterslide.

I let my gaze rake down his body, appreciating him in a way I haven’t let myself before now. Now I can look without guilt. Now he’s mine to look at.

Then my eyes snag on the gash in Holden’s lip. It’s been a few hours since the fight and, while he’s no longer bleeding, the entire area’s swollen and red. Seems painful.

“Sexy, isn’t it?” His tongue darts out to brush over the injury, and he hooks a thumb on his towel, dipping it lower in the front.

So damn cocky. I’m surprised he bothered with a towel at all.

While he showered, I snooped through the rodeo paraphernalia—buckles and trophies and photos—around his small bedroom. Where Logan’s always made rodeo his entire personality, with evidence of his winnings clearly displayed around his house, I find it interesting that Holden keeps things neatly tucked away like this. So guarded, even in the safety of his own home. I can’t wait to break down the last of his walls.

I smile as I saunter his way. “Sexy like botched lip filler.”

“Damn. I can’t catch a break with you. Aren’t women supposed to swoon when their man defends their honor?”

“This is me swooning,” I deadpan.

I take a step toward him, and my fingertips plunge into the velvet hair on his chest. His scent floods my nose. Spicy, woody, warm. And he’s soft to touch, except where he’s very hard against my stomach.

He pinches my side, making me squirm, and an unbecoming snort escapes me.

“Okay, okay, okay.” I laugh under my breath. “My hero. However will I repay you?”

Holden’s hands settle over my ass and give a firm squeeze, shifting my hips so that the length of him grinds against my sensitive clit. I’m wearing one of his old rodeo T-shirts, and the hem drags up my thigh with each slow movement.

“Devil to hero. What a comeback story.” He kisses my forehead, his body tensing from the brief pain when his lips press to my skin. “I know how you can thank me.”

“Yeah?” The arousal tenting his towel is too big of a temptation to resist. I slide my palm down his body and tug at the folded over terry cloth, so the whole thing falls to a puddle at his feet, and I stretch my fingers around his thick cock.

A sigh of surrender eddies out of him, and he leans into my touch, forehead falling to meet mine.

“Do you still have that toy?” His hips lazily thrust forward into my touch. “The one you had in the trailer.”

A jolt of desire, embarrassment—both—hits me, and my hand on him stills. The Emasculator. After so many arguments with Logan about the damn thing, a single shitty comment from Holden might push me to finally throw it out.

Before I can answer, he continues, “Please tell me you do. I was so pissed at myself for not being quieter when I walked in on you that night. I wish I could’ve watched you.”

His hot breath whispers against my ear, and he licks, then bites, at my lobe. His cock twitches in my grasp, sticky precum coating my fingers.

“Would you have let me watch, angel?”

“If… if I knew you wanted to.” I stroke the length of him, eliciting a ravenous growl from deep in his chest.