#TeaserTuesday - What a Texas Girl Dreams
Trick followed and was barely inside the trailer when Monica launched herself into his arms.
“Did you miss me?” She whispered the words against his mouth, nibbled his lower lip. Trick knew it was a rhetorical question. He knew Monica would go running into the Texas afternoon if he answered with one hundred percent honesty. So for the first time today he kept his big mouth shut—figuratively speaking—and fell into the moment.
Her mouth was hot on his, demanding. Mad at her or not for risking her life in that bull pen, he couldn’t resist her. Trick dug his hands into her hair, breaking the elastic at her nape in the process. Monica wrapped one leg around his, pushing herself against him, as if their bodies might become one hot, writhing unit. Trick pushed his tongue between her lips, wanting to taste more of her.
Their teeth clicked together and Monica chuckled. “God, I’ve missed you.”
Trick pushed her against the side of the trailer. “Really? Because you didn’t even want a handshake ten seconds ago,” he said between kisses. He smelled coconut in her hair, bananas on her skin, and despite the overpowering aroma of cooped-up horse, the trailer was suddenly a tropical paradise.
“You know the rules.” She panted and kissed her way along his jawline. He lifted her up by the hips until her legs were wrapped around his waist.
Yeah, he knew the rules. No deep feelings, no firm commitments, no family involvement. They drove into Austin or San Antonio for dates, she stayed over at his place, and he was never invited to the Diamond for more than vet checks. On the occasional long weekend or during a break from the rodeo, he’d go to her place in Austin. Easy.
Up until two weeks ago, it had been enough. Then he asked her to take a long weekend and she balked. Pride made him throw down the ultimatum that she stay. After seeing her in the ring with the bull, easy wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more. He wanted to take her to dinner in town. Wanted to wake up with her wild hair spread over his pillows every morning. Wanted to come home to her every night.
“This isn’t exactly the safest place in the world for hot, sweaty sex.”
Good one, Kristi!
ReplyDeleteFrom an untitled ms:
Starla Jamieson circled her bar, checking for empty glasses out of habit. Her well-trained staff would take excellent care of the wedding guests, but she got all twitchy just sitting when there was work to do. She ran her hands up and down her arms. If she were honest, her twitchiness had more to do with the occasion than the service in her establishment.
At the head table, covered by an explosion of lavender and cream tulle and carnations, her dad, the groom, and his seventh wife dined on pulled pork sandwiches and potato salad furnished by the Wagon Wheel cafe. Starla liked the bride well enough, but she wouldn’t lay any bets on a lasting union between her and Clem Jamieson. Not for any woman foolish enough to marry him. God knew there had been plenty who’d tried to rope him. He couldn’t keep his pants zipped—no matter how great the woman.
Just one of the many reasons Starla avoided marriage like the plague.
Love this, D'Ann! Thanks for sharing!
DeleteOooh. Love it, Kristi. Your hero is yummy.
ReplyDeleteMy excerpt is from my November release, Loving the Earl:
Claire lunged for the lock, too late realizing that she hadn’t even thought to secure it. Before she could fully engage the lock, the door was jerked open and Blythe tumbled in, landing in a very large heap at her feet.
He leaned halfway out of the carriage to grab the door and slam it shut before he lurched to the opposite seat and collapsed into it, his chest heaving, his glare ominous.
Several heartbeats of silence passed. Claire began to fidget until she finally blurted out, “I told you I was going to escape.”
“That you did. You didn’t tell me you were going to render Gaudet’s servant unconscious in the process.”
She looked away and chewed on her lip for a moment. “I thought he was you.”
Blythe barked out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. “I have that to be thankful for at least.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “You left me locked in a room in a brothel. What did you expect me to do?”
“What any sensible woman would do. Stay there until I came to fetch you.”
“So I was to bide my time until you saw fit to finish whatever illicit activity you were engaging in?”
“Yes.”
“I am not your luggage, my lord. I don’t sit in a closet until you decide you need me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I put you there to keep you safe and that was not a brothel. That was Gaudet’s residence.”
“You could have fooled me.”
He leaned forward. “And what would you know about brothels, my lady?”
Oooh, I'm on the edge of my seat..this is a fun excerpt, Sharon, thanks for stopping by and sharing!
DeleteYum.
ReplyDeleteOooh hot, Kristina. I especially like the line where the trailer had suddenly turned into a tropical paradise. This is from my WIP:
ReplyDelete“For now, but I’m not done with you. Not even close.” The sexy timbre of his voice matched with the passion in his eyes almost undid her. He was definitely not talking about her lessons right now. She wanted another kiss so badly she could almost taste it.
Emily swallowed. What am I doing? Are you still leaving town? Are you going to kiss me, or what? All these thoughts were running through her head as she stared into his eyes, right before he pulled her into his arms again. He had a way of kissing that made her want to give up breathing so that she could kiss longer, harder. Oxygen was overrated anyway.
Even so her mind screamed: stop, you’re going to get hurt. But her body answered: you cannot be talking to me.