Harmony and High Heels (Fort Worth Wranglers 2)

All of the stress of the last couple of hours melted away as he watched her. It might be the tequila finally kicking in, but it was probably the naked Harmony.

He grinned because he couldn’t help himself. Then reached for her hand and dragged her through the living room to the kitchen. “You want a drink?” He nodded to the bottle of tequila on the counter.

She glanced at the discarded lime peels. “It looks like you’ve been drinking enough of that for both of us.”

“Not even close.” Then, because he couldn’t keep his hands to himself for one second longer, he pulled her into his arms. “I’m glad you came.”

“Me too.”

He rested his chin on the top of her head for a minute and just breathed in the sweet honey scent of her.

She shoved against his chest, pushed him away. And for a brief moment he felt bereft, though for the life of him he couldn’t figure out why.

Striving for control, needing to keep his hands busy with something other than her, he reached into the bar cabinet and pulled out a shot glass. “You ever tried Patrón?”

“You’re talking to a Texan, baby. I was raised on Patrón.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He poured a shot and handed it to her, but he stopped her hand before the shot got to her mouth. “If you’re going to do a shot, you’ve got to do it right.”

Harmony lifted one cool brow, licked her full lower lip, and nearly had him coming in his fucking jeans. Goddamn, this woman had him wrapped around her little finger. “I didn’t realize there was a wrong way to do this.”

“Sweetheart, there’s a wrong way to do everything.” He was putting his hands on her waist and lifting her up so that her sweet ass was on the center island, her legs just a little bit open.

Stepping between them before she could change her mind, he slipped her leather jacket off her shoulders, letting his fingers linger on his favorite tattoo—a hibiscus flower blooming right over her rib cage. He wanted to ask her about it, wanted to ask her about the journeys behind all her tattoos, but then she moved against him and all he could think about was getting his mouth on her.

So he did, leaning down and licking a trail from the hollow of her throat to her breastbone. “Mmm, salty.”

She blushed, then leaned back on her hands so that her breasts were thrust forward. “It’s almost a hundred degrees outside. Hard not to sweat.”

“And yet you’re wearing leather.”

She quirked a brow at him, those luscious lips of hers turning up in the wicked grin that haunted his dreams. “Leather is seasonless.”

“It really isn’t.”

She reached a hand down and ran her fingers over the buckle of his leather belt. “It really is.”

God, he was crazy in love with her. It was taking all his self-control to take things slowly when all he really wanted to do was to eat her alive.

“I wasn’t complaining,” he murmured as he trailed his tongue over the curve of first one breast and then the other. Then he slammed back the shot of tequila and finished it off by biting into a lime slice.

Her mouth was slightly open, her eyes wide as she stared at his lips. “That’s the right way to do a tequila shot?”

He loved her voice. The husky sweetness was a turn-on even without the hard-ass tone she deliberately injected into it. With the hard-ass tone, it was irresistible. “It’s the best way.”

“I bet.”

He poured another shot. Handed it to her. “Here. You try.”

He shrugged out of his T-shirt. Her black leather jacket slid down her arms and landed in a heap on the floor.

Shit, he wanted her. Was dangerously close to becoming obsessed with her.

Her sexy pink tongue darted out, swiped across her top lip and then her bottom one, as if she couldn’t quite decide where to lick. Every thought he had or might have had got lost in the wild need pumping through him.

Groaning, he tangled a hand in her hair and urged her closer. “Come on, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Taste me.”

Her mouth lowered to his chest so slowly that he wanted to howl. Then her tongue was on him, swirling in circles over his right pec, darting out to tease his nipple. Once, twice. Again and again, until it was all he could do to keep from ripping off her panties and sliding into her right there.