Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (Rough Riders 2)

Velma said, “You ready to go?”

“Yeah.”

Before Velma hit the lights, she said, “He left something for you on the counter.”

“What?”

“Take a look.”

Macie spied a cheap placemat on the spot where Carter had eaten. She picked it up and stared in disbelief.

It was a pencil drawing of her. A close-up. Specifically of her brooding, in the diner’s kitchen, her face half hidden in shadow as she gazed longingly at something beyond the white edge of the paper.

Her eyes met Velma’s. “Do I really look like this?”

“Like what, sweetheart?”

Lost.

Velma shuffled over and peered at the drawing. “Well, you do look sad in this picture. But you’ve been kinda mopin’ around the last week, so I think it’s a pretty accurate depiction of your mood. No denyin’ the man has talent. That’s for damn sure.”

She looked at Macie and smiled. “No denyin’ the man also has it bad for you.”

“But—”

“No buts. Swallow your pride, squirt. He might’ve hurt your feelin’s over something this week, but remember: He came lookin’ for you tonight.” Velma patted her cheek.

“Make sure the door is locked when you leave, eh?”

Macie rolled up the picture and carefully inserted it in a cardboard paper towel tube so it wouldn’t get crushed in her backpack. She slammed the back door and rounded the side of the brick building, her guilty footsteps loud in the gravel and the muted night air.

She was so lost in thought that she didn’t notice him until she’d reached her vehicle.

Carter lounged against the passenger door, his cowboy hat pushed back off his forehead. His arms were folded over his broad chest; his legs were crossed at his ankles.

If she hadn’t focused on his eyes, she’d bristle at his defensive posture. But there wasn’t a defensive, macho, self-righteous glint there—just wariness.

Or was it hope?

What if was she projecting what was in her eyes into his?

Did it matter?

No.

“He came lookin’ for you tonight.”

She set her backpack on the ground and launched herself at him before she ruined the moment with what-ifs.

Chapter Eighteen

Carter caught her with a grunt that morphed into a laugh after she squeezed him tight and knocked his hat off.

“Hey, hey. What’s all this?”

She scattered kisses on his face. “My way of saying I missed you, dumbass.”

“Ah. By all means, darlin’, keep up with the sweet-talkin’. I’m hopin’ it’ll lead to dirty talk.”

“Thanks for drawing me that picture. Sorry I was a jerk.”

“Apology accepted. Just so you know…I have been workin’. Time got away from me and before I knew it, I realized I hadn’t seen the real you in a week.”

She pulled back to look at him. “The real me?”

“I’ve been paintin’ pictures of you. But retouching you on canvas ain’t nothin’ like touchin’ you in the flesh.” His frustrated growl was a balm to her pride. “Jesus, Macie, enough talkin’. Kiss me already.”

Her mouth trapped his. She forced her tongue between his warm lips and poured herself into him. A hot, drawn-out opened-mouthed kiss that left her wet with need, and had him grinding his hard c**k into the soft notch between her thighs.

“The things you do to me make me think of all the nasty things I wanna do to you.”

Carter scraped his teeth down her throat. “I ain’t feelin’ very gentlemanly. I want to f**k you right f**kin’ now. I don’t think I can wait until we find the closest bed.” He growled,

“How daring are you feelin’?”

“Not very. But you make me want to be daring.”

“That’s music to my ears.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Ever done it on the hood of a car?”

She’d never done it in a car. She imagined hot metal on her back; hot man on her front. Whoo-ee. She could be down with that. “Do you have a condom?”

“Sweet darlin’, I’ve got a whole pocketful.”

Chills broke out across every inch of her flesh as he nibbled her neck. She moaned.

Loudly. “Like that, do you?”

“Yes. Your mouth feels like liquid fire.”

“Funny. That’s the way my c**k feels too.”

Laughing, Macie pushed away. “You gonna take off your pants before the crotch catches fire? Before you get in my car?”

“Oh, so Miz Daring decides we’re doin’ this in the car, as opposed to against it?”

“Yep.”

“Works for me.” Carter kept his eyes on hers as he kicked off his boots and shucked off his Wranglers. His c**k bobbed against his bellybutton and he grinned at her wide-eyed expression. “Commando all the way for you, darlin’. Your turn. Strip.”

Macie had changed out of her ugly polyester uniform before clocking out, but she hoped her skin didn’t reek like grease. In a flash her denim shorts and her panties were at her feet and her T-shirt dangled from the hood.

“Bra too.”

“Nope. You still have your shirt on.”

Carter tugged and the pearl snaps gave way, showing just a sliver of his golden flesh from his collar to where the hem brushed his balls.

“Enough.”

He lifted a brow. “Enough? I thought you wanted me to take it off?”

“Well, I don’t want to make it too easy for you.”

“Easy?”

“I think I wanna test you, see how good you are at removing my bra in the dark, in the car, while I’m bouncing on your lap. You might get a little flustered.”

“You issuin’ me a challenge?”

“Yep.”

“What do I get if I pass your challenge?”

Just say it. Be daring. But it sounded too crude, a little slutty, and a lot naughty in her head no matter how she phrased it.

“Macie? What do I get?”

“Whatever you want.”

Carter’s eyes narrowed. “We’re talkin’ whatever I want sexually, right?”

“Yep.”

“What if I want something you ain’t never given another man?”

“Then it would be yours to take.”

The air between them turned thick with need.

“Remember you said that. Get in the f**kin’ car, before I throw you on the goddamn ground and f**k you in the gravel and weeds.”