Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Do. Not. Touch her.
But. I. Want to.
When she’s on the top step, she turns around. I draw up short, heart lurching.
“Thanks for listening,” she says. “I don’t usually confide in strangers—”
“I’m not a stranger.”
Our gazes lock. The space between us tightens, sparking with electricity that works its way into my skin as her eyes slip to my mouth.
Holy fuck, is Mollie going to kiss me?
“No,” she says. “You’re not.”
Then she goes up on her toes and wraps me in a hug.
I’m so taken aback that I just stand there for a second like an idiot.
I know this kind of hug. Her arms circling my neck, chest and belly pressed against mine.
She likes the contact. The feel of my body touching hers.
She wants more of it.
Need roars inside me, my blood crackling with the desire to give this girl exactly what she’s asking for. Without thinking, I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her even closer, burying my face in her neck.
Even after a night spent dancing at The Rattler, she smells real fucking good. Sweet, like girlie shampoo and that sexy perfume of hers.
“Let’s not murder each other, okay?” Her voice is different. Barely above a whisper.
My voice is different, too, when I reply, “I make no promises.”
“You’re difficult, you know that?”
“Wouldn’t be fun if I made things easy.”
She scoffs, her breath ruffling the hair on the nape of my neck. “You’re anything but easy, Cash.”
Honey, you kiss me, and you’ll see just how easy I can be.
All she has to do is ask. Make the move. And I’ll have her on her back with my face between her legs in two seconds flat.
My dick perks up at the thought of her being wet. If I put my hand up her skirt, what would I find? Ridiculous silk panties, probably.
And a hot, tight pussy, swollen from a night of dancing and touching and flirting.
My pulse blares at the same moment Mollie releases me, falling back just enough that our eyes meet again.
She looks at me.
I look back.
I’m acutely aware of the way my heartbeat has migrated to my lips. Hers part, revealing a glimpse of white teeth just inside the pink seam of her mouth.
My hands are on her waist. Hers are on my chest.
I try very hard to remember all the reasons why kissing Mollie Luck is a terrible idea.
I try, and I fail.
But just when I’m about to go in for the kill, she steps back and turns toward the door, offering me a little wave over her shoulder. “Good night, Cash.”
I have the peace of mind to yell after her, “Lock the door.”
“Of course I’m locking the door. I don’t want you getting in.”
Brat.
But apparently, I’m one hundred percent into that now. I’m hard. And wide awake. And supremely annoyed that I’m hard and wide awake at midnight on a Friday.
Running a hand over my face, I wait until I hear the bolt slide home in the lock. Then I climb inside my truck and head home.
Not gonna lie, I wish Mollie were coming home with me.
Mollie is in the kitchen when I arrive at four o’clock sharp the next morning. Smells good, like something’s being sautéed in a shit ton of butter.
I’m technically off on Saturdays and Sundays, but I always end up working anyway, which is why I’m up. Patsy’s off weekends, too, so she’ll stock the fridge on Friday with all kinds of stuff for us to pick on until Monday.
Nice change of pace to have a hot breakfast made by none other than Mollie Luck.
She’s at the range again, stirring that pan. Pieces of bread are lined up in a nearby toaster. I draw up short when I notice she’s wearing riding clothes. Cowboy clothes, more like it. T-shirt, jeans, boots that aren’t sparkly and pink.
She want to work with us today?
That fact shouldn’t put a smile on my face, but it does. Maybe seeing the stars last night made her realize the magic of being out here. And, yeah, I like that she’s taking an interest in the ranch.
I like that she cares.
She’s got her hair in a ponytail. She’s wearing the glasses again.
I fucking love her in glasses.
I resist the impulse to sidle up behind her. Wrap my arms around her and kiss her neck.
My right hand clearly ain’t doing it for me anymore.
I watch Mollie open the cabinet beside the stove and reach for a new bottle of hot sauce. We killed the other one at dinner last night. Texas Pete takes Patsy’s white chicken chili to the next level.
Wordlessly, I cross the kitchen and grab it for her. Today, she smells like sunscreen. So she is planning to work with us.
Falling back on her heels, her arm brushes my side as she smiles up at me. “Thank you.”