Devil in Texas (Rugged and Risque 1)

Bummer.

She had to shift a little in his arms so she could retrieve the key ring from her purse. It wasn’t easy to maneuver, but Liza was determined to get the door open without fully relinquishing her hold on Jack. Because damn if she hadn’t truly found the happiest place on earth, right here in his arms. She liked this cozy cocoon and wasn’t looking to unravel from it any sooner than she had to. Hell, if he wanted to carry her directly into the bedroom and drop her on the bed, she was fully amenable to that. As long as he joined her in it, of course.

Successfully reaching the deadbolt without having to get out of the strong arms that held her close to his hunky body and giving the key a twist in the hole, she was able to depress the chrome lever and let them in. A

s he stepped inside the cottage, she flipped the light switch on the wall, taking in her cute new rental.

There was no formal foyer to speak of. The door opened to a room split in half by décor. To the right was the living room. A fireplace was centered on the wall where the door was also located. To the left was a small dining area. Windows adorned the side walls, one of which filled the room with silvery moonlight. Further back, two steps led up to an open, elevated kitchen. A cherry-wood banister with decorative black wrought-iron spindles divided the seating area at the counter from the living room.

Across from the kitchen were two doors. One leading to the bathroom. The other leading to…the bedroom. Her eyes immediately latched on to that part of the cottage and she bit back a smile.

Sure, she’d botched this pick-up at the bar. Yet by some bizarre stroke of luck that was completely uncommon for her, the sexy saloon owner had ended up exactly where she wanted him. Well…almost. He just needed to take a few more long strides forward until they reached the bedroom.

“I should go back for your shoes now,” Jack said as he stared down at her. Despite his words, he didn’t make a move to set her on her feet.

Nor did he make a move toward the bedroom. Was she seriously going to have to be the one to initiate this tryst? Her mouth twisted as she considered this. Finally, she moved in his arms. He took that as the signal to put her down. Another crossed message she’d inadvertently delivered tonight.

As her bare feet softly hit the polished hardwood floor, she clutched his thick biceps with her free hand. Not so much to keep her upright. More so just to retain the intimate contact between them. And because she really did like touching him.

“Care for a drink?” she asked.

He grinned at her. Cocky. Devilish. That hint of wicked making everything inside her liquefy.

“That’d be nice.” He stepped away, seemingly reluctantly, and then disappeared out the door.

Liza took a moment to steady herself for the tenth or so time since she’d met the Devil in Blue Jeans. She pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly. She could still smell him, as though she were still cradled in his arms, nuzzled close to his neck. A bold, masculine scent that made her tingle from head to toe.

Energized anew, she buzzed about like a bee. She dropped her clutch on the end table as she bounded up the steps to the kitchen. For such a quaint place, it had thoughtfully designed living space that made excellent use of every inch of the limited square footage. It already felt more comfortable and homey than her trendy mid-town flat ever had. Or Peter’s mammoth Tribeca apartment.

She’d done some grocery shopping before heading out for her good girl turned wicked woman night and had stocked the fridge. As she yanked the door open, though, she frowned. No beer. She tapped the pad of her index finger against her bottom lip as she contemplated this latest debacle. Then she remembered she’d bought a bottle of Chivas out of sheer habit because it’d been Peter’s drink of choice. Surely that would do.

Retrieving the bottle from the cabinet, Liza broke the seal and plopped two ice cubes into a crystal-cut old-fashion glass that came with the cottage. She poured a splash of the Scotch into the glass and then pulled out a bottle of water for herself. No more booze for her tonight.

Jack came through the front door with her shoes and joined her in the kitchen. She watched as he pulled a paper towel from the roll sitting in the upright holder and cleaned the soil from her expensive heels.

“I have leather cleaner if you need it,” he said as he set the shoes on the floor outside her bedroom door.

Had she died somewhere along the way and gone to heaven? Even better, it appeared he intended to stay a while. She reached for the Chivas she’d poured for him, then handed over his drink as he crossed to where she stood.

“Thanks,” he said as he took the glass, their fingers brushing.

She felt an erotically stimulating jolt to the core of her being. He really had a way of turning her inside out. That now-familiar prickly sensation along her clit and the dull throbbing in her pussy made her wet again.

Grabbing her bottle of water, she tapped the open mouth of it against the rim of his glass and said, “Cheers.”

He just stared at her, his dark blue eyes locking with hers, making her breath catch. There was a spark of lust in those beautiful cerulean irises that even she couldn’t miss. When he took a step closer to her, she felt as if the entire world compressed into another seductive cocoon. He stood with one booted foot planted firmly between her parted legs, careful not to step on her bare toes. His thick thigh filled the vee her stance created and if he moved just a hair closer to her, his upper thigh would be wedged right there between her legs.

Her heart hammered in her chest at the thought. Her imagination toyed with the idea of his free hand gripping her hip, pulling her tight against his hard body. His heat and raw intensity would singe her skin, her insides. Though she was already cursing the sizzling Texas climate, she didn’t mind the idea of Jack’s radiance burning her up even more. Didn’t mind it the tiniest bit.

She opened her mouth in hopes of saying something provocative or, at the very least, something witty. But no words formed in her head or on her tongue. Instead she stared up at him, dazed, her mouth gaping.

He grinned at her, as though he knew he left her speechless. And liked it.

Then his head dipped and his lips brushed hers. So expected, given the intimate moment they’d found themselves in—and all the incidents leading up to said moment. Yet it wasn’t expected at all… In fact, when Jack’s mouth touched hers, it shocked her into paralysis. Liza stood stock still, reveling in the sensation of the warm, soft lips pressed to hers.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t even breathe.

But oh God, could she feel!