Make Mine a Bad Boy (31 page)

Outside the bar, the night was cool and windy. He tucked his leather jacket around her and sheltered her body as they hurried across the parking lot to Shirlene’s SUV.

Inside, she tried to think past her thumping heart and aching center. But once he’d slipped the seat belt around her, he kissed her again until there was nothing left in her head but desire.

No telling how long they would’ve remained there if a cold wind hadn’t blown into the SUV, causing her to shiver. Colt pulled back and gave her one more heated look before he slammed the door and moved around to the driver’s side. He slipped behind the wheel with the ease of a man who could master any mechanical vehicle and quickly backed the truck out.

Once he was out of the parking lot, he reached over and took her hand, bringing it to the console between
them. She thought the space would cool her down, but the man was as gifted a hand holder as he was a kisser. With their fingers linked, his thumb caressed her palm with a back-and-forth stroke that left her nothing more than a quivering puddle on the heated leather.

They didn’t talk on the ride to the hotel, nor did Colt waste any time getting there. He weaved in and out of traffic and on and off freeways like a NASCAR veteran. When they arrived, he whipped the truck into the first empty space and was around to her side before she could even unhook her seat belt. Not that she could’ve unhooked it with her hands shaking so badly, but he didn’t even give her a chance to try before he released the clasp and had her in his arms.

Pressing her back against the truck, he gave her another deep kiss and pulled her up against the ridged fly of his jeans. Then, before she could do more than moan, he released her and was guiding her across the parking lot toward the hotel.

The lobby was empty except for the same desk clerk who had worked the previous night. He greeted them, then discreetly turned away. Before the elevator doors had closed completely, Colt had her back against the wall. This time his hand slipped beneath her shirt and wasted no time. With a twist, her bra was open and her breast covered in one hot palm.

“Colt,” she breathed against his shoulder. “Someone could see us.”

“I don’t give a shit.” His calloused thumb brushed over her nipple. And just that quickly, Hope didn’t give a shit either.

Of course, she did when the doors opened, and Rachel
Dean was standing on the other side in a large floral muumuu with her thin gray hair rolled up in sponge curlers and a full bucket of ice in her hands.

“Hey, Colt.” She smiled at him as if his hand wasn’t stuck under Hope’s shirt. “The ice machine on my floor was clean out of ice and, with these damned hot flashes, I need a big glass of ice water handy at all times.” She stepped into the elevator and punched a button. “Y’all just gettin’ in?”

“Yes,” Hope croaked as she tried to shove Colt away, but he didn’t seem in any hurry to comply. Although his hand did slip from her breast to her hip.

“Well, I tell you one thing,” Rachel continued, seemingly unaware of what was taking place right in front of her. “You can sure cut up a dance floor, Colt. Surprised the hell out of the entire town, seeing as y’all couldn’t get along for more than two minutes without the fur flyin’. ’Course dancin’ doesn’t have to involve talkin’, which is how I got roped into marryin’ my second husband. Good dancer—bad talker.”

The doors slid open, and Hope squealed as Colt scooped her up in his arms and walked off the elevator, moving right past an open-mouthed Rachel.

“And just what do you think you’re doin’, Colt Lomax?” she yelled after them.

“Taking Hope to bed,” he called back.

Rachel’s deep, manly laughter followed them all the way to his room.

B
Y THE TIME
Colt kicked the door to his room closed, the sweet agreeable woman he’d danced with was replaced with the spitfire he grew up with.

“Have you lost your mind, Lomax?” Hope’s fist connected with his shoulder, the bony knuckles worse than any frogger he’d received in grade school. “What possessed you to tell Rachel Dean that? By morning, everyone will know you brought me to your room.” She went to sock him again, but before she could, he tossed her down to the king-sized bed.

“And so what if they do? It’s not the first time we’ve been caught in a compromising position. And you know as well as I do that the people of Bramble can’t put two and two together without a calculator.” He sat down on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots. “Although, I have to admit, it was strange that Rachel noticed me before she noticed the homecoming queen.”

One of Hope’s cowboy boots dropped to the floor by his foot.

“Not so strange, given your performance at Josephine’s
the other night,” she said as she toed off the other boot. “I think the town is starting to view you as their champion.”

He laughed and was surprised when Hope didn’t join in. He glanced back to find her sitting cross-legged on the bed, her eyes confused.

“What do you mean put two and two together?” she asked.

It would’ve been easy to hedge around the question. But after talking with Tinker Jones, Colt had come to a few conclusions: 1. An old photograph wasn’t something to pin your hopes on. 2. It was time to cut through the bullshit and start being honest.

He propped his knee up on the bed as he turned to her. “About this thing we have for each other.”

“A thing? What are you talking about? I’ve never had a thing for you.”

“Really? And what would you call this?” His gaze dropped to her unclasped bra that stuck out of the neckline of her black shirt.

Those blue eyes stared back at him for only a second before her chin grew stubborn. “A mistake.” She started to scoot off the bed, but he caught her.

“A mistake we can’t seem to stop making.” He took her chin in his hand, tipping it up. “And why is that?”

Her throat convulsed as she swallowed. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“And I think you do. I think you’re just too stubborn to say it.” He smoothed a strand of hair off her forehead. “Admit it, Hope. You have a thing for a lowlife motorcycle bum, a lowlife motorcycle bum who isn’t afraid of overprotective townsfolk or big linebacker daddies. Who isn’t afraid to take what he wants.” He leaned down and
brushed his lips over hers. “Even if it’s from the Sweetheart of Bramble, Texas.”

She blinked before staring back at him with wide blue eyes. “Are you saying you want me, Colt Lomax?”

“I’m saying I want you, Hope Scroggs.” He bit at her plump bottom lip, and then licked it better. “Have wanted you ever since I can remember. And you want me, which was why you kept showing up wherever I was, begging for something I was more than willing to give you.” His tongue swept over her earlobe, and he felt the tremor that ran through her body all the way down to his soul.

“Very funny theory, Lomax,” she breathed.

“No, it’s not funny,” he whispered. “Not funny at all.”

Similar to their dancing, their lips effortlessly slipped into a slow sliding waltz that quickly progressed to a hungry salsa that had them both fighting for air. Easing her back to the mattress, he took her wrists in his hands and pulled her arms above her head. He liked the feel of having Hope stretched out before him, a compact feast spread out for his taking. And he took—took deep kisses and soft nips and long, wet forages that left him hard and begging for more.

When his mouth was no longer enough, he released her wrists and slipped a hand over one perfect breast. Through the cotton of her shirt, her nipple stood proud and hard. He gently brushed his thumb back and forth until she moaned into his mouth and arched her back up off the mattress. He pulled away from the kiss and lowered his mouth to her breast. At the first touch of his lips, her fingers scraped through his hair and encased his head, holding it firm while she rode his thigh.

Her enthusiasm incited him, and he stripped off her
shirt and went for naked flesh. Her breasts were plump and soft. And while he cradled and stroked, he sipped at each sweet peak until her fingers tightened against his scalp.

“Colt.”

His name on her lips had him returning for another deep kiss before his hand slipped down to the button of her jeans. Once the zipper was down, he slid two fingers past the elastic band of her panties. The wet heat that greeted him was pretty much his undoing; the need to take things slow was obliterated by the need to be deep inside her. He might’ve taken her right then, if her jeans had cooperated. But the tight denim refused to slip over her hips, and he was forced to get to his feet and grab each pant leg. As he tugged, she giggled.

“You think this is funny, do you?” He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Hilarious.” Hope answered with a cocked brow of her own. “I thought the Bad Boy of Bramble would be a little more skilled at removing women’s clothing.”

He sent her an annoyed look as he tugged, but the jeans refused to budge, which sent Hope into another peal of laughter.

“I could use a little help here,” Colt stated, although he couldn’t help but smile at the picture she presented. Miles of wild hair played peek-a-boo with sweet naked breasts. At that moment, his entire world was contained in the tiny, five-foot-nothing body stretched out before him, and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it.

Her laughter subsided, and with a sassy grin, she pushed her jeans over her hips.

It was the first time he’d seen her completely naked and, in the gold lamplight, she was as beautiful as he
knew she would be. Though small, her body was perfectly proportioned, from the high breasts to the soles of her petite feet. Her legs and arms were lean and toned. Her stomach smooth and flat with an inny belly button he had wanted to lick since the rainy day in the old Chevy. But it was the small strip of hair between her legs that grabbed his attention and held it.

“You’re so damned beautiful,” he croaked, his voice thick with passion.

Her gaze lifted to his and, in those deep blue eyes, he saw gratitude and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Something that made his stomach light and his heart seize.

As he stripped out of his clothes, her eyes turned hot and steamy. His stomach tightened, not only with desire, but with the strong need to be the only man to light this fire in her eyes. But she soon started a fire of her own when she scooted across the bed and took him in hand. His knees buckled, and he would’ve landed on the floor, if he hadn’t reached out and grabbed onto the headboard.

Inching closer, she slipped her legs on either side of his, offering up a delectable view of all her hidden places—but the view was interrupted by a flash of heat that blinded him when she leaned forward and took him in her mouth.

His world tipped on its axis, and he didn’t know if he was still standing or flat on his back. Her lips slipped down toward the base of his shaft before sliding back up with enough suction to cause his eyes to roll back in his head. The entire time, her hand kept up a nice steady stroke, while her other hand did a number on his balls. But seconds from orgasm, she lifted her head.

“Am I doing this right?”

He blinked and tried to figure out where he was. “Huh?”

“Am I doing this right?”

He was brought back to earth by a pair of insecure blue eyes. Since Hope had never been insecure about anything, he ignored the raw need that pulsed between his legs and tried to reassure her.

“Oh, baby. You are doing it just right.” He cradled her chin and leaned down to give her a kiss. “In fact, so right that if I don’t get inside you pretty soon, I’m going to be the first man to expire from lust.”

Her smile flashed bright. “Really?”

“Really.” Colt lowered a knee to the bed and followed her down.

Once there, he took his time sipping from her lips while his fingers stroked over her breasts and down her sweet body. When her hips pumped up to greet him, he dipped inside the wet heat and flicked her clitoris with his thumb until she begged for release.

Pulling back, he reached for his wallet on the nightstand. But just as he slipped the condom out, she stopped him.

“Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

He glanced back at her, and she shrugged.

“I mean, if you have something—”

His brain finally broke through his passion, and he shook his head. “No.” He tossed the condom back down on the nightstand and rolled back to her side. “I don’t have anything. I just forgot, is all.” He smoothed her hair back. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? I mean, this won’t hurt you, right?”

She ran a finger over his chin. “Except for a few razor
burns, I think I’ll be okay. Although if you don’t get in me soon, I might just expire from lust.”

He moved over her, cradling her head between his forearms. “Well, we can’t have that. Now can we?”

“No, we can’t—” She sucked in her breath as he entered her.

He knew how she felt. He had never been inside a woman skin on skin, and the pleasure was so intense that he almost lost it right there. He took a few seconds to name the parts of a motorcycle engine before he slowly started to move. As with dancing, their bodies quickly got in sync, and the slow strokes soon quickened to deep thrusts that had him seconds away from a mind-blowing orgasm. He tried to slow things down, but his stubborn Hope wasn’t having it. Her legs locked around his waist, and her nails sank into his shoulders.