Close Enough to Touch (Jackson Hole 1)
He groaned, putting one hand against the cold bathroom tile to support himself as he jacked off. Water beat against his back. His hand was slick and tight as he imagined her gasping at the way he’d suck her clit.
Christ, he’d love to do that. Make her arch and whimper. Taste her as she got wetter and wetter against his mouth. He couldn’t imagine her still and quiet. No, he was pretty damn sure she’d writhe and moan and fight toward her climax. The way she fought everything.
He tightened his grip on his cock and stroked faster, imagining the way he’d suck her. Lick her. Reach up and squeeze her nipples as he pushed her toward orgasm.
Heat swept over his skin. Steam filled his lungs. And in his head, Grace shook and screamed, and the taste of her flooded his mouth as she came. “Oh, fuck,” he groaned as his own orgasm slammed into him.
Afterward, he spread his fingers against the tile and took a deep breath. He rolled his shoulders. Stretched his neck. And realized he felt great.
He was going to get some sleep tonight. Finally. And tomorrow he’d go back to work. It’d be a good day. He could feel it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
COLE STEPPED OUT OF HIS TRUCK and straight into chaos.
The ranch yard was usually quiet, aside from the sound of horses and a few men, but now it was packed. With vehicles. Equipment. And people. Strangers doing strange things in this familiar place.
Suddenly, the chaos coalesced. The random pieces joined together to become something solid, and Cole recognized what was happening. Ice swelled from deep inside him and turned his skin cold.
This was a movie set.
He shook his head and looked around again, disorientation making it hard to process what he was seeing.
It looked like a movie set, but there were key parts missing. Cameras and cranes and huge light towers. And crowded as it seemed, there weren’t enough people. There was only one trailer, parked next to the barn. If this were a real movie set, there’d be a dozen trailers and a couple of awnings set up for the lower-level actors, not to mention all the space for wardrobe and makeup.
What the hell was going on at the Easy Creek? This was a bad dream. It couldn’t be real.
His pounding heart helped to drown out the noise, but Cole still flinched at the sound of something hydraulic firing up behind him. More equipment. Maybe they were just starting the setup. Maybe a caravan was coming down the dirt road like a circus arriving in town. A circus from hell.
He cursed and set off across the yard, heading straight for the big house. There were more people inside.
“Where’s Easy?” he asked the first familiar face he saw. Manuel tilted his head toward the kitchen. The guy didn’t talk much, which was fine with Cole at the moment. There was only one person he wanted to talk to.
“Easy,” he ground out when he spotted the old man seated at the kitchen table. Papers were strewn about him like evidence of a crime. “What the hell is going on here?”
Easy’s body might be giving out on him, but his mind was sharp as hell, and he sent Cole a warning look that would’ve felt like a knife if Cole had been able to feel anything. But adrenaline meant he didn’t feel a thing except anger.
“Easy—”
“You’d better watch your tone when you talk to me in my own kitchen, boy.”
Cole crossed his arms and glared. Easy had been around since Cole was in diapers, but that didn’t mean Cole liked being reminded of it.
“Your kitchen, huh? I guess I was confused because the whole damn place looks like a Hollywood soundstage. Why is that?”
“It’s preproduction,” Easy said slowly, as if that explained something. As if that explained anything.
“Preproduction?” Cole yelled.
“Yep.”
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m making an easy buck.”
Cole waved his arm toward the front of the house. “Like this?”
“What do you mean, ‘Like this?’ They’re not filming a porno in the barn, they’re just shooting a few scenes for a big movie. A couple of weeks of distraction, and I’ll have a few more dollars in my retirement fund.”