Lip Lock: Country Fever, Book 2 (22 page)

She giggled.

“What is it?” A smile bloomed on his handsome features as he sank onto the mattress beside her, hands immediately on her.

“I was thinking what a damn basket case I am. Emotional.”

His smile turned tender. “You don’t need to hide it from me. Ever. I’m here for you, no matter what, Hayley.”

She threaded their fingers. “I know that now.”

He fidgeted, opened his mouth. Shut it.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“There’s something else I haven’t told you yet. Or shown you, rather.” Suddenly, he looked like a little boy on Christmas.

She blinked up at him, taking in the creases around his eyes and the glittering blue depths.

“Can you get dressed?”

“What?”

He delivered a slap on her hip, near her ass. “Up, woman. I’m going to show you something.”

As they dressed, they leaned against each other, laughing and playfully pinching body parts. When she was stuffed back into her dress and he wearing only jeans slung low on his hips, he led her downstairs and outside.

His rural location exuded an air of solitude. From the road, a traveler could just see glimpses of the house between the trees. It shocked her anew to realize she’d be spending her days—and nights—here.

Brant placed his feet carefully on the stepping stones leading around back. She’d never seen this part of his home before, which sported a huge patio and in-ground pool in a kidney shape.

“Oh, Drake is going to love you.”

Brant threw her a look over his shoulder. A line appeared between his brows. “You think?”

She dug in her heels and pulled him to a stop. Placing both hands on his chest, she stared into his face. “Brant. Drake already thinks highly of you.”

“Because I fixed his mouth.”

“No.”

“Because I let him drive.”

“Well, maybe a little, but that’s not all.” She cupped Brant’s hard jaw, rubbing her thumbs over the spiky hairs. “He really likes you because you’ve shown me nothing but respect and patience. Even though I didn’t let him in on all aspects of our relationship, he knew. He saw how happy you make me, and that’s important to him.”

The wrinkle on Brant’s brow smoothed, and a smile kissed the corners of his mouth.

Then he started pulling her along the path at a faster rate. They skirted the pool and he pushed open a white, wooden gate leading out of the yard. Behind the fence, a quaint little cedar-shingled outbuilding stood against the woods. On the front door hung a Coca-Cola sign.

Not just any sign—her sign.

She stopped dead and fingered the piece. “Where did you get this?”

“Later, baby. Right now I want to show you something else.” He twisted the brass door handle and it opened sweetly on noiseless hinges into a dark space. He flipped a switch and bright light illuminated a work space—concrete floor, shelving along one wall, holding every color stain and every size of brush she’d ever need.

She plastered her hands to her mouth and staggered.

He anchored her to his side with an arm locked around her waist and breathed against her ear. “For you. Whenever you feel like doing a project, whether for us or as a side job.”

She whirled in his arms. Did he know that she’d had to beg Andrea to be allowed to use the back room of Anecdote to complete that washstand? Now she’d never have to do that again.

“Brant! You’re amazing!”

His grin widened. “You are, and that’s why I did it. Now. Another thing.”

Before she could properly inspect the refinishing space, he shut off the light and rushed her out. Down the sidewalk they moved again, but this time he took her into the garage.

She braced herself. Was he going to try to get her to drive something other than the comfortable car he’d already generously loaned? Because she wasn’t about to accept keys to the BMW or the Audi, let alone the SUV or monster truck.

He led her to the Mustang. “Close your eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just close.” He thumbed her lids shut, and she complied, excitement creating butterflies in her stomach. As she waited for him to give the word to open her eyes, she heard a metallic click.

“Okay, baby. Now.”

He positioned herself behind her, giving her a view of the trunk. Inside were boxes and boxes of red and white items.

A hot gasp seared her throat. “Oh my… Brant!” She whirled on him, jumping up and down and clinging to his neck at once. “How did you know? How did you find out? How did you persuade Andrea to give it to you?”

But she didn’t have to ask, not really. She already knew he’d probably bought the entire lot off Andrea and hadn’t batted an eye. In fact, Andrea had probably delivered everything here just to help out. She was forever doing things like that for Hayley and Drake, and it had broken Andrea’s heart to sell these special items.

Tears that she’d been holding off during the long afternoon of love play and the exchange of promises finally trickled free. They tracked down her face unchecked.

“You’re too good to me.”

“No. Never.” He cradled her face in one broad palm.

She shook her head. “I can’t give you much back in return. Debt. A kid with a banged-up mouth.” She faltered in a half-laugh, half-sob.

Shaking his head, he pressed his lips over her tears. “You give me more than you can ever know, Hayley. Until I met you, I was a robot, living for nothing but dreaming of more. Now I know that even my dream of retiring to the farm wouldn’t have made me happy. Because I didn’t have you to share it with. And you accept me for what I am. I don’t have to suppress what I need in bed with you.”

She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, hands roaming over his spine, into his hair. Pulling his head down, she whispered, “Never that. I love that part of you as much as the others. It made me see a vulnerable side of myself that I only want to give to you. Brant, I swear I’ll share everything I have—heart, mind, body and soul.”

“Good.” His gaze burned into hers, overflowing with love. “Right now I want one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“These lips.” He dropped his mouth to hers, claiming her. And her smile stretched beneath his, reaching all the way into her heart.

About the Author

Em Petrova lives in backwoods Pennsylvania, where she raises four kids and a Labradoodle puppy named Daisy Hasselhoff and pays too damn much for utilities. She loves to write gritty characters with lots of heart and is well-known for scorching, panty-soaking erotic romance.

You can find her at
www.empetrova.com
or holding parties here on Facebook:
www.facebook.com/em.petrova
.

Look for these titles by Em Petrova

Now Available:

Country Fever

Hard Ridin’

Coming Soon:

Unbroken

One man by day, the other by night. With cowboys this hot, who needs sleep?

Hard Ridin’

© 2013 Em Petrova

Country Fever, Book 1

Eight months after her lover, Holden, went off to join the Alaskan fishing fleet, Laurel gave up on him and soothed her broken heart by focusing on her dream of owning a small organic farm. Now her crop is growing—and so are her feelings for Jens, the hunky rancher who owns the land she’s tending.

Behind her affection for Jens, though she hides a secret: she still aches for Holden. If Jens knew she once loved his best friend, she fears he’ll walk out on her, too.

When Holden returns to find his girl in Jens’s arms, he’s nearly crippled with jealous rage. And with fear that she’ll run away from them both unless they figure out a solution—fast.
 
It’s Jens who comes up with the crazy-hot idea to share her.
 

As their three-way dance of seduction heats up, the sexual and emotional barriers fall like dominos. But now it’s Jens who’s holding onto a secret. One that could not only destroy their tenuous bond, but leave them all without a home.

Warning: Contains two sexy cowboys who want the same woman; and, in winning her heart, they discover a steaming hot attraction for each other.

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Hard Ridin’:

Jens Anderson hooked Laurel around the waist and tugged her close as the twangy two-step faded away. The low drawl of a slow song drifted from the speakers flanking the dance floor.

As Laurel came up against the wall of muscle that made up Jens’s body, a sigh escaped her. He splayed a hand over her lower back and crushed her hips to his. The action sent a dark thrill through her belly, and lower, between her thighs.

Jens skimmed the crest of her buttocks with his fingers. “I love you in this skirt, Laurel. When are you gonna let me peel it off you?”

His baritone rumbled against her ear and raised every hair on her body. Was this the night she let the rough-and-tumble country boy make it past second base? Being stretched out beneath him, gaining and delivering pleasure, seemed the best way to spend a weekend. Better than being alone, scouring seed catalogs for the best deals.

She fiddled with a strand of hair clinging to the perspiration on her temple. For two months, she’d been asking herself if he was the one—if she could let him past the barricade she’d erected around her heart.

When she didn’t answer him, Jens continued to twirl her around the dance floor, easily navigating between other swaying bodies. He was one hell of a dancer, and he was also used to her ignoring his advances. Countless times he’d asked her to spend the night with him, but even after two months of dating, she wasn’t ready.

It wasn’t because the man was lacking in any way. Oh no. At six foot tall, with shoulders made bulky from wrangling livestock and farm equipment, he was wanted by every girl in the small town of Reedy.

But that was just his body. His eyes were the true allure. Sapphire and twinkling with life, he’d hooked Laurel from the moment he’d pierced her with that gaze.

He nudged her away from him, twirled her and reeled her back in. Their hips bumped and his erection pressed against her aching flesh.

“Jens…”

He gave a huff of laughter. “You caught me. I can’t help it. I’m wild about you, darlin’.”

For a moment, she lost herself in his bright gaze. His cowboy hat was tugged low over his brow, but the depths of his baby blues glittered with desire. Laurel’s nipples hardened, and the knot in her core tightened. Why was she dragging her heels with Jens? He was everything a woman could want—sexy, a hard worker, a great dancer, and he even grilled a mean steak.

The music pitched lower and the singer crooned love words. Jens looked deep into Laurel’s eyes. Cupping her face in one big palm, he leaned in slowly. His scent dizzied her—mint and a hint of the beer he’d drank, as well as cologne. Washed cotton shirt and leather boots. One hundred percent man.

Laurel and Jens rocked back and forth, with him singing in a low voice that sent white-hot electricity through her heated limbs.

In that minute, the warm cocoon of his arms was the only place she wanted to be.

He dropped his full lips to hers and she couldn’t suppress a shudder of want. Jens squeezed her to him, drawing her onto tiptoe and somehow still undulating to the beat. He pressed on her lips with his tongue, and she opened to him.

Sensation was a punch to her system as he slipped his tongue over hers. The bodies around them disappeared, the clank of beer bottles and the hum of voices vanished.

“What the—? Laurel?”

She jerked at the sound of that familiar voice—the only other voice to ever send her spinning out of control. Jens released her, and they turned as one to face the reason she continued to hold Jens at arm’s length—the reason she wasn’t ready to take their relationship to the next level.

Holden McAlister.

Holden’s heart dropped to his stomach and kept on sinking, straight to his work boots. Pain blinded him as he set eyes on Laurel’s curvaceous body in the arms of…his best friend.

Clenching his hands into fists, he fought to keep from punching Jens in the goddamn mouth. Then again—

He cocked back his fist and slammed it right into Jens’s perfect white teeth.

Laurel broke away from Jens’s hold, stumbling back with a cry. Out of the corner of his eye, Holden saw her plaster her hands to her lips, her eyes wide with shock above her fingertips.

“Owww, you son of a bitch!” Jens roared. “You knocked my teeth loose!”

Holden shook all over, rage and hurt rippling through his body like thunder chasing lightning. Grinding his teeth, he glared at Jens—the guy he’d been friends with for ten years, as well as shared part ownership of the Rope Burn Ranch. They had a damn mortgage together.

Now it appeared they also shared a girlfriend.

Spinning toward Laurel, Holden stared at her—five-foot-three inches, skin-tight skirt, a tiny T-shirt and cowgirl boots. Her curves called to him, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from throwing her over his shoulder and taking her home with him.