Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)
The tractor engine idles, a deep throb throb throb, as I climb out of my car and look up at him.
Wrist draped casually over the steering wheel. Those thighs straddling the seat. Hair curling out from underneath his hat.
I have witnessed sexy baseball player Luke.
Sexy manwhore Luke.
Sexy older brother’s best friend Luke.
None of those Lukes hold a candle, however, to sexy shirtless farmer Luke.
I’m smiling because he’s hot and he’s having fun. But also because he’s so clearly in his element. The guy is beaming down at me. Scruffy and happy.
He holds a hand out to me. “Climb on up.”
I take his hand—warm, dry, calloused—and step onto the little footrest thing beside the back tire. Still smiling, Luke puts his hands on my hips and guides me onto his lap. I awkwardly swing my leg over the other side.
And then I am on Luke’s tractor.
On his dick, too.
Which thankfully doesn’t appear to be hard, although I can definitely feel it pressing against the back seam of my shorts. Impossible not to feel something that big, I guess.
No hiding it.
His hands are curled around my waist now. Thumbs slipping under my shirt and rubbing small, firm circles on my bare back.
Feels nice. Really nice.
Luke presses a scruffy kiss to my neck. Right above my tank top.
“Hey, baby.”
Despite the heat, I shiver.
He has a way of making my body feel painfully alive.
I turn around to look at him. Our faces close. He smells good. That Ivory soap, freshly showered smell of his.
I’m smiling again.
“You really had to go shirtless, huh?” I say, flicking my eyes over his bare chest.
“Yup,” he replies. “What good is a farmer if he don’t ride his tractor without a shirt on?”
The engine is loud up here. We have to shout over it.
“Fair point,” I tease.
He looks at me for a minute. I look back.
Feeling brims between us. I swim in it. Heart skipping.
“You look really pretty,” he says.
My word.
This boy.
I lean in. Kiss his lips. “You look like you just climbed out of one of those tractor porns you talked about. Do they really exist, by the way?”
A deep, rumbling laugh erupts from his chest. “Later, we’ll answer that question together. But right now, you ready for a ride?”
“Shameless.”
Luke rolls his pelvis, using the hands on my hips to press me down as he rises up. Hitting me right there.
Lightning cracks through my middle.
My breath catches.
“Baby girl,” he says. “You want me to show you just how shameless I can be?”
The vision appears in my head. Me turning around. Straddling Luke. I unzip his jeans. He’s hard, standing straight up. I guide him up the gap in my shorts. Wiggle my thong aside. Sink down on him. Slow. Hurts a little because I’m sore and he’s big.
He fills me up.
Pushes me just when I think there’s no further to go.
“I see what you’re thinkin’,” he says with a smirk. “But you know if we start, we ain’t stoppin’.”
“Right,” I reply, eyes on his mouth. “Tour first. Then dinner. Then your stash of tractor porn.”
“Solid Saturday night. I ain’t mad at it,” he says.
“Where you taking me first?”
He reaches down for a knob beside his knee. The engine’s rumble changes.
“You’ll see.”
Luke stretches his arms out on either side of me, grasping the wheel. Using his thighs to keep me firmly in place as he eases the tractor into motion. Like he’s done this a thousand times.
Probably has.
He hangs a meandering left. We follow a sandy path that runs alongside the edge of a large field. It’s planted with even, neat rows of something small and green.
I notice there’s not a shriveled plant or weed in sight. Just the soil, pale and sandy looking, and the sturdy little plants themselves.
I feel that ache again—same as I did the first time I saw Luke’s fields. But this time the ache is sweeter. Doesn’t scare me like it did before.
Maybe because I’m allowing myself to feel like I belong here. With him.
Like all this beauty isn’t a precursor to heartache. But to something good instead.
What a novel idea.
“Corn,” Luke explains, pointing at the field. “Growin’ a varietal in this field that makes the tastiest grits you ever had.”
“I know,” I say, turning my head again so he can hear me. “I tried them at Eli’s.”
“And?”
I grin. “Tasty.”
He squeezes my side.
I squeeze his knee. It’s so impressive. He is impressive. How he pivoted after a shitty situation forced his hand—career-ending injuries will do that—to create something special. Unique.
Lovely.
We head through a thicket of trees. Sunlight flickering through the leaves and branches. The earthy smell of water fills the air.
The trees thin. On our right, a wide, flat river appears. Its surface a mirror that reflects the sharp oranges and pinks of the evening sun. A long wooden dock extends out onto the water, a platform at the end.