Hotter (Bad Boys of Texas 4)

“Sugar, my intentions are well laid out. You may not like me right now, but you’ll love me soon enough.” Right now, she’s so wound up that there’s clearly no changing her mind.

“Yeah, freaking right. I hope you fall in cow shit tomorrow with all the bull you’re spewing.” Laney causes me to laugh, not just a chuckle either. Nope, a full out belly laugh, which makes her hang up on me. I put my phone on charge, pull down the covers, and slide in. Tomorrow is a whole new day, and I have a feeling I’m going to have my work cut out for me when it comes to making things right.

The only thing left to do tonight is the same thing I do every night before I go to sleep—re-imagine our night together, the way she tasted, how her hips moved in sync with mine, how she lit up for me. And that’s all the memory I’ll need while fisting my cock until it drains all of my energy and I’m able to sleep.

Six

Laney

“What’s got your panties in a wad?” That’s the last thing I want to answer after getting no sleep last night. In fact, I’m ready to throttle anyone who comes within spitting distance of me. Especially before I’ve had a hot cup of tea and breakfast. Nonetheless, if I don’t respond, Rhett won’t leave me alone. No wonder he and Creed are friends. They’re both menaces to society.

“I couldn’t finish the website last night. The coding was coming out all wrong. I swear I don’t know why it bothers me so much, but it has to be perfect. No one else notices.” I’m sitting at the kitchen table on an early Sunday morning, a day that’s meant for rest, but that doesn’t seem to be in vocabulary anymore. Especially since my laptop is open, my glasses are on, and I’m in pajamas.

“We notice, probably don’t say it often enough, but it’s appreciated.” Rhett is dressed in a button-down shirt. Man, I really feel like a bum.

“Thanks, big brother. What are you up to today all gussied up?” I ask, standing up to make my hot tea, seeing how I’m interrupted already.

“I’m headed out to look at a stallion. Creed mentioned the kid who was working at his place is looking for more of a full-time position. That should help us tremendously if he works out.” Rhett looks so much like our father when he was younger. One day, some woman is going to snatch him up and finally settle him down.

“That’s if you don’t run him off, and don’t play dumb. You can’t expect to work anyone like a horse, snap at them, and then say thank you to clear it all up.” I finish putting some sugar into my hot tea before bringing it to my lips, inhaling the aroma.

“Don’t even start. We’ve both been stressed. I’m not saying I was perfect, but you bury yourself in work, and I bark orders. At least now Creed’s back to help when he’s not working, and if Randall works out, that’ll help too.” He takes a gulp of coffee, the knock on the back door causing me to blow out a breath of air. It’s like grand freaking station at the house lately.

“Can you get that?” I ask, going about pulling the food out to make something for breakfast. My head is stuck in the fridge, ass up in the air. Thankfully, I’m wearing pajama shorts and an oversized shirt because the next thing I hear is, “Damn, what a view to see first thing in the morning, sugar.”

I don’t even reply. What’s there to say? I’m giving him a view, although what I’d love to do is smack him silly. Instead, I ignore him, taking everything out that I need to make a Southwestern omelet, and Creed isn’t going to stop me. I put everything on the counter, turn on the stove, busying myself with grabbing the pan I’ll need. Apparently, that scoundrel brother of mine snuck out without even saying so much as a goodbye to me or a hello to Creed. I’m smelling something fishy going on around here.

“Not even going to say hello to me, Laney?” My eyes leave the egg I’m cracking. Creed is sitting at the kitchen table, his white cotton shirt stretched across his body in a fitted way, arm muscles being showcased, long legs encased in worn denim, ending with a pair of worn-in boots. On any other person it would look like he’s trying too damn hard. Not with Creed though, he makes it look natural.

“Why would I want to do that? Next, you’ll be begging for food. No freaking thanks.” I turn back to making my omelet, adding the eggs to the pan, then salsa, and last but not least the cheese. My stomach is rumbling, and even with my nerves shot from dealing with Creed and what my mom had to say last night, my hunger doesn’t cease to exist. If anything, it ramps up. Which is probably the reason for my thick hips and thighs.