City Country Page 4

  She laughed, then grabbed the juice bottle. “So, tell me about your photo shoot today and whether or not you want blueberries in your pancakes. They’re local.”

  “Well, it’s for some magazine. Sports Texas something.” He shrugged. “Not too sure. And you were gonna make me waffles. Now, if you got pecans for those…”

  “Waffles. Right. And I’m a Texan, I have pecans.” Her little blush was still hot, even in the sunlight.

  Cotton thought he liked the whole no-makeup face, too. “Well, I’d take pancakes, but it’d be hard to beat the gingerbread ones.” His hands itched, and he went over there to feel.

  “True. I have a great waffle iron, too.” She leaned into his touch a little. Soft. Her skin was so soft.

  Cotton kissed just under her ear, loving the way she tasted, too.

  “You’re going to distract me again.” She slid one of her hands around his waist.

  “I am?” He hugged her loosely before patting her on the butt. “Food.”

  “No, baby. That’s my butt.”

  “Are you sure?” He peered over her shoulder. “I could get possessive.”

  “But you have a butt of your own. It’s fine and tight, looks fab in jeans.”

  “Well, I guess mine is okay, but honey, yours is hot.” He squeezed. “Do I need to make bacon?”

  “Mmm. Absolutely.” She squeezed his ass. “No burning anything important.”

  “Nope. I have the towel.” That covered anything he couldn’t replace, right?

  She laughed and handed over bacon and a skillet before starting to pour odds and ends into a big pink plastic bowl. She was colorful. That bore repeating. A lot. His momma would like a pink bowl, though.

  He got the bacon started, and she started stirring.

  Wow.

  That made things…

  Wow.

  He watched everything bounce and bump and grind. Christ, a man could just get off on that. If there hadn’t been bacon cooking, Cotton thought he’d just bend her over the little kitchen table and… Yeah. But, bacon. And she had just poured her first waffle. So he sucked it up and cooked.

  “Do you like honey? Syrup?”

  “I like syrup, mostly. What do you do?” Somehow, he was really curious about her, from what she ate to the kind of flip-flapper she used.

  “I’m one of those people who puts a little bit of syrup in each square. I have a little bit of a sweet tooth.”

  “What kind of syrup?” His momma used Blackburn’s, but Cotton always hankered after Log Cabin or Mrs. Butterworth’s or real maple.

  “Maple. My brothers bring it when they come back from skiing in Vermont every year.”

  “I can do that.” Lots of butter. Man, he loved that. Good thing he worked out and worked when he was on those rare trips home, hard.

  “Me too, if I only do it once a month or so.”

  “Why?” Man, he was all about the questions. Was that rude?

  “Well, because I sort of lean toward the well-rounded side of the scale, huh?” She winked over at him. “I am not your supermodel type of broad.”

  “Thank God for that.” When all six pieces of bacon—four for him, two for her—were off the stove, he went to snuggle up against that round ass to watch her cook. Just to practice what he preached. Hallelujah.

  “Mmm.” She rocked against him, moving to the music and rubbing just right. That hot, round ass might give him palpitations. Cotton hummed, loving the sway and push of it. Her hips fit in his palms, just perfect, and he moved with her.

  “So, are we about ready to eat? ’Cause I could eat you up.”

  “Mmm. Flatterer. Your waffle should be ready.”

  “I’ll wait for you.” He pulled back to let her get the waffle out of the iron, then grabbed it and put it on a plate to let butter start melting.

  She poured them both more coffee while her waffle was doing its waffly thing, then they sat at her little table and started eating.

  Her lips were damned pretty. And cutting a waffle was almost as good as her stirring.

  He wondered, sort of idly, what her nipples would taste like with a little syrup on them. Or strawberries. He liked those. Blueberries would be weird. Maple syrup, though? It had potential.

  “Huh?” She’d said something, and he’d missed it entirely.

  She laughed, which made her all jiggly again. “Are the waffles okay?”

  “They’re good.” They were, too, once he remembered to actually taste them. And bacon. Yum.

  “So where do you ride bulls next?” She licked her fingers clean.

  “Over in Beaumont.” He made a face. Beaumont sure wasn’t Austin.

  “Yay. It’s deadly hot down there, still.”

  “Yeah.” It was an outdoor event, too. Blegh. He’d live, though.

  She stuck her tongue out, and he caught a glimpse of the stud pierced through it.

  Lord. “So what was it you had to do today?”

  “I am going to go grocery shopping, an afternoon meeting and then I have a date for dinner with a cute guy.”

  For a moment, he bristled all up, thinking she had some real nerve. Then he realized she meant him. “Oh. Well, cool.”

  “I think so.” She leaned forward. “What about you? You’re going to be studly for pictures, take me for dinner. Then what?”

  “Well, I don’t have to leave town tonight or nothin’…” Cotton thought hard. “We could go to a movie.”

  “There’s a Schoolhouse Rock singalong at the Alamo Drafthouse. I could get us tickets.” One of her feet slid up the side of his leg.

  “Schoolhouse Rock.” Blinking, he looked down at her foot. “Like verbs and bills and stuff, from when we were kids?”

  “Yeah. You know, Conjunction Junction and Father, Son, and Lolly?” Jesus, that was cute.

  “Well, sure.” Why not? That could be fun, specially if she bounced a lot.

  “Cool. We’ll have fun.” She licked her fork clean.

  “We will.” He waited, gentlemanly like, until she was done. Then he stood up and went to her, holding out a hand. “I don’t have to be gone for a bit.”

  “No? I can grocery shop any time.” She reached out for him, stepped right into his arms. “Hey, cowboy.”

  “Hey.” Look at her. She had syrup on her lower lip, so Cotton licked it off.

  That had Emily smiling, pressing close, reminding him about some of the promises she’d made him last night.

  It was going to be a good day.

  Chapter Three

  “So? You got home safe?”

  Em stared at Ricki, arched an eyebrow. “Like you give a shit. You fucking left me there. Why are we friends again?”

  Ricki flipped her off, and Mouse growled a little. “Because I’ll go out with you. I’m sorry, Auntie. I was…” Ricki sighed, shrugged. “I started this morning, huh?”

  “Oh, blah.” Hormones sucked.

  “Yeah, no shit, right? I was super bitch last night. You got home okay, though.”

  Em felt her cheeks go red-hot. “Uh. Yeah.”

  Ricki’s eyes went wide, and Mouse hooted. “Girlfriend got laid!”

  “Dude! Auntie! You were in a cowboy bar!”

  Mouse looked over, blinked. “Auntie? No shit? A cowboy bar?”

  Oh, hell yeah. A cowboy bar. A rodeo cowboy. A hot little redhead cowboy with a belly that was to die for, a good-sized cock and this mouth? Oh, God. Em could write reams of bad poetry about the things Cotton did with his mouth.

  “Yeah, weirdest thing, huh? He rides bulls, like…for real.”

  Mouse blinked, and it was adorable coming from the great big hulking lug of a not-terribly-faithful kind of man. “Was there a hat?”

  Em nodded. “There was.”

  Jeff glanced over from where he was getting his full sleeve shaded in. “Did he keep it on while y’all were fucking?”

  “Nope. He hung it up on the coat rack.” Very, very carefully.

  Ricki chuckled. “So?”

&nb
sp; “So what?” She was going to make them beg for details. Bunch of pervy assholes. She did adore them.

  “Auntie! Was he any good?”

  Em couldn’t fight her blush. “Oh. My. God.”

  That was sure to make them ask.

  * * * *

  “Tilt your head to the right a little. No, your other right.” The photographer growled some, and Cotton tried to pay attention. He really did. Shit, he was getting paid for this, after all. He was just a little distracted.

  “Go get a touch-up from wardrobe, huh? Shake it off.”

  “Yeah. Sorry.” They’d tried to put makeup on him, but Cotton had drawn the line there. Wardrobe had hated his plain white shirt, saying it was too light against his pale skin and freckles. They’d let him keep his own hat, though. He’d flat refused to wear the straw Toby Keith knockoff.

  “Jeez, Cotton, you’re just a mess.” Kynan poked him in the ribs. “Move your head, stop grinning like a fool, don’t roll your eyes…”

  “Shut up.” His ears went hot. Okay, so he was off his game. He was thinking about his date tonight. If an official date was better than spontaneous pancakes and blistering-hot sex, he was in trouble.

  Real trouble.

  “Oh-ho.” Garret came over to watch the little wardrobe girl adjust Cotton’s collar, then his hat. “Someone is up to something. What did you do last night after we left? I know it couldn’t be that girl you were watching. She was so gonna turn you down flat.”

  “Shows what you know.” Cotton jerked back when the girl went to touch his hat again. “Now, ma’am, that’s a 100 X hat. I’ll put it where it needs to go.”

  She tilted her head. “What does that mean?”

  Garret snorted. “Two weeks of your take-home pay, at least. So? C’mon, Boll. Tell.”

  “We had a drink.”

  “The chick with all the leather and shit?” Kynan stared at him. “Dude. She was weird.”

  His jaw clenched, and so did his hands, and the little girl fluttering around him backed away. Smart girl. “You shut up. She’s a sweetheart, and I’m going out with her again tonight.”

  “No shit?” Garret just smiled. “Well, sometimes it takes someone different to get our attention, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Yeah, at least he hadn’t had a fistfight with his attention-getter like Garret had. Lord.

  Kynan opened his mouth again, but Garret smacked the kid’s chest. “Let it go. You’ll have to tell us how it goes.”

  “Sure.” Uh-huh. He wasn’t one to kiss and tell, and Gar knew it.

  “You ready, sir?” The little wardrobe girl waved over to the set. “He’s waiting.”

  “Got it.” He’d pay attention now if it killed him. He wanted to get out of there on time.

  He had a date.

  Chapter Four

  “Oh my God! You can sing!” Emily looped her arm through Cotton’s, a little high from her hard cider, a little high from the absolute fun they’d had. “God, this was a good idea.”

  “You shake it really well.” There had been a dance thing in the middle of the adverb song. Cotton had made sure to let her know he admired her skills.

  “Thanks.” She was in her favorite little black and white polka dot dress with the huge swing skirt and her red pumps. She felt like a million bucks.

  He cleaned up really nice, too, even if everyone at the Alamo from the staff to the other patrons had stared a little at his starched Wranglers and crisp white shirt with pearl snaps.

  “That was the best.” She kissed his cheek, then rubbed the lipstick off. “Sorry.”

  They made it to the parking garage where he’d pulled his big truck in, and he turned to grin at her, grabbing her hand. He tugged her close for a kiss. “It was. What now?”

  “Mmm. We could go for coffee. We could go bar hopping.” She leaned close, lips near his ear. “We could go fill up the tub with bubble bath and snuggle.”

  Ricki was right. She’d lost her mind, and wasn’t it fun?

  “I like bubbles.” Cotton handed her up in to the truck, making sure her skirt was all tucked in before he closed the door. He was a charmer.

  She toed her pumps off and curled her legs underneath her. They’d eaten and talked about his mother, his cattle, his ranch—and how cute was that? She knew someone who had a horse!

  He knew the way back to her place now, which was also cute. Maybe a little wiggy. He pulled into the parking lot and turned the truck off, then turned to smile at her.

  She grinned back, reached out and traced his lips. “I bet you have girls at every rodeo, wanting to get into your pants.”

  “Huh? Nah. You should see my buddy, Garret. They all want him, and then Kynan gets them because Gar is queer.” His eyebrows drew together in a red line. “I didn’t just say that, though.”

  She blinked, then started chuckling. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

  Queer cowboys. That seemed so…Village People.

  “Cool.” He patted her leg. “Gar has a real career ahead of him. Like in music.”

  “Really? Like Johnny Cash, huh?”

  “Something like that, yeah.” His chuckle told her maybe she wasn’t so up to date on country.

  “Don’t you laugh at me, cowboy.” She grinned and reached over to goose him. “I’m not really the boot-scooting type.”

  “I know. I bet I couldn’t name one band in your CD rack.” The fact that he’d said CDs instead of iTunes told her he was right.

  “You’d be surprised. I have eclectic tastes.”

  “Well, you picked me out, huh?” He leaned over to kiss her, letting it linger a moment. “Inside?”

  “Yeah. We can play unwrap the cowboy.”

  “That sounds like a good game.” His cheeks heated, his grin going huge. “So does undress the pin-up girl.”

  Oh, man. That made her all fluttery stupid. “Okay, sure, that sounds—”

  A banging on the window made her gasp, jerk. A couple of frat boys, drunk off their asses, were right there. “Dude! Give us a ride, man?”

  “Fuck off, y’all!” God, she hated that.

  Someone slapped the window again, and before she could blink, Cotton was out of the truck and in the kid’s face, chest puffed out like a rooster. “Back off.”

  “Look, man. We just need a ride. We know where the hot girls hang out. You could do better.”

  God, drunk assholes always thought they were clever. And apparently cowboys took offense to someone insulting the girl they were with, because Cotton’s fist connected hard with the guy’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

  “Cotton!” She hopped out of the truck, grabbed her mace out of her purse and got it ready, just in case Cotton needed it. He didn’t, though—that other guy took one swing and Cotton’s fist shot out and clocked him. She’d never heard that sort of sound outside of the television.

  Wow.

  Two down, none to go, and they both seemed so much bigger than Cotton. Just…damn. His face was set and hard, and she could see the stubborn under the sweet.

  “Are you okay? I have mace.” Her heart was racing, adrenaline just going nuts.

  “I’m fine, honey. These two were just leaving.” The college boys were groaning, not really moving, until Cotton advanced a bit. Then they scrambled up and ran.

  “Come on in. Is your hand okay?” She was starting to shake a little, and his arm around her waist settled her.

  “It’s fine, honey. After what I do to it every week? That was nothin’.” He grinned sideways at her, jazzed as anything.

  Turkey.

  She actually dropped the keys, before getting the apartment door open. They stepped in, and she locked the door behind her. “If that was nothing, I need to see you work.”

  “You do. Bulls weight two thousand pounds. These guys? Not even close.” He put both hands on her waist and pulled her tight. “You’re all right, honey.”

  “I know. It just startled me. I’m cool.” And he was hard—as a rock.

  “Well, good.” H
is mouth came down on hers, his whole front pressing up against her, mooshing her a little.

  His hat went flying, and her keys hit the floor. It wasn’t until she pushed up on tiptoe that she realized she’d left her pumps in his truck. Not that Cotton was giving her mouth back so she could tell him. Heck, by the time they got to kiss number three, she didn’t care.

  He pushed her skirt up with one leg, the denim against her bare skin making her pant. The seam on the inside of his thigh teased her terribly. Damn. Shivery. They took one step back, together, and her back hit the door. He pushed in close, lifting her a little, and, fuck. Fuck, that was. He was. Wow.

  Cotton moaned, going after the top of her dress, searching out the tiny buttons. Somehow, he seemed more confident with this than he had the corset. It didn’t take much, either, for her breasts to push out of the cloth, as if they wanted that touch as much as Cotton did.

  Humming, he bent to kiss each one, finding her rings with his teeth. He slid his hands under the cloth, lifting her boobs up. This shuddery, girly little sound left her. She couldn’t help it—it was all just huge and Cotton knew how to touch a woman. His bristly cheek rubbed against her, but only for a second. Then he was pushing the dress off her butt and hips, his lips traveling down her sternum.

  “Cotton.”

  He nodded and kissed her belly, moaning as he ran his fingers over her black lace panties. “You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, honey. You’re such a girl.”

  His words made her a little fluttery. Maybe more than a little. “I have all the parts, huh?”

  “You have the prettiest parts, honey. Round and sweet, and your skin is so soft.” He meant it, too. She could tell.

  She reached down, stroked his hair. “You make me feel like a million bucks, Cotton.”

  “Good. I want you to.” He laughed up at her. “That’s my job.”

  Em chuckled, nodded, then gasped as his lips brushed her belly. “Tickles.”

  Cotton blew a raspberry, making her cackle. He was a hoot. When he licked along the top of her panties, though, she wasn’t laughing at all. He hooked his thumbs under the sides, right above her hip bones, and Cotton skinned her panties down her legs. His mouth moved right down to the top of her curls, his breath teasing her. Em leaned back, so wet that she knew he could tell. She couldn’t help it. She was in deep want.