Behind us, there’s a fumbling click and a sharp gasp.
Rooster and I freeze.
I turn but he presses one hand to the back of my head, cradling me against his chest. His other hand tugs at the skirt around my waist.
“Get. Out,” he growls.
“Shit. Sorry. Sorry.” The door slams shut.
“Forgot he has a key,” I whisper, thoroughly mortified. How much of my ass was hanging out?
“Forget it. Concentrate on me.” He presses his palms against my cheeks and pulls me closer. “Keep riding, cowgirl.”
That’s all the encouragement I need to push the embarrassing moment away.
In no time, I’m tuned into his every movement and breath. So close it feels like our souls blur together.
“I’m almost,” I whimper. “Please don’t let go.”
His hands tighten on my hips. “Easy. Let it happen. I’ll never let go.”
My heart, mind, and body all trust his words. Hard not to when I’ve had more orgasms from Rooster in the short time we’ve been together than in the entire seven or eight years since I discovered sex.
His expression settles into determination. He shifts the angle of his hips.
“That’s good. Right there,” I whisper.
Sparks of pleasure swirl through me. My back arches. If Rooster didn’t have his hands on me, I might tumble to the floor. My fingers dig into his rock-solid arms.
“That’s my girl.” He pulls me in, covering my neck with sweet kisses. “Keep going,” he whispers against my ear. “Make me come now.”
“My pleasure.” I cling to him, my hips matching his chaotic rhythm.
He stills, a harsh grunt that sounds like my name tearing from his throat.
Then he’s brushing his knuckles against my chin, urging me closer for a kiss. He strokes my cheek as if I’m the most precious thing in the world to him. Satisfaction and contentment glitter in his eyes. “I look forward to you surprising me for the rest of my life.”
The rest of my life.
His words match the thoughts churning in my head. “I like the sound of that.”
He strokes his fingers over my thigh. “Love how soft you are,” he murmurs as though he’s thoroughly enchanted with everything about me.
Neither of us seem to want to move or disentangle ourselves. But finally, we make our way into the bathroom to clean up.
“I never thought I’d be so comfortable sharing space with someone…” my voice falters. Why the heck’d I say that out loud?
But Logan smiles and kisses the top of my head. “Sure about that? Seems that I come with an extra space sharer.”
I snort and slap my hand over my mouth. “How could I forget about Jiggy?”
“He makes it impossible.”
Outside, we find Jiggy sprawled out on a blanket, staring up at the sky. The mild embarrassment from before returns with a swift, vengeful sting and I glance away.
“Are you two finished fornicating on the communal couch?” Jigsaw asks without glancing our way.
“It’s not a communal couch.” Rooster toes Jiggy’s thigh with his boot.
“It’s where we eat our meals.” Jiggy lifts his hands and points to his eyeballs with dramatic flair. “That image is now seared into my brain.”
“Well, unsear it, motherfucker.” Rooster’s voice drops to a low growl.
“I can’t,” Jiggy gripes. “But I promise not to wank off to it.”
“Lordy,” I mutter.
Jiggy cocks his head, peering past Rooster to grin at me. “No worries, songbird. You’re perfect. It’s his hairy legs that are gonna give me nightmares—” He yelps and rolls to the side a second before Rooster’s boot flies toward his ribcage. Letting out a gleeful cackle, he jumps up and claps his hands in Rooster’s face. “Too slow.”
Rooster lunges at him, but I grab his arm. “All things considered, Jiggy’s being rather polite. For him.”
Jiggy rests his hand over his heart and bows forward slightly. “She’s right. I’m exercising great restraint here, brother. I haven’t even cracked a single can-I-join-in-next-time joke.”
“That’s it.” Rooster charges Jiggy. This time I can’t stop him.
Jiggy runs across the parking lot laughing his fool head off with Rooster hot on his tail.
Dammit. I left my phone inside. Otherwise, I’d video this for later.
Shaking my head, I leave them be and return to the RV. My stomach rumbles and I figure they’ll probably be hungry when they’re finished beating the tar outta one another.
I pull salad and sandwich fixings out of our little fridge and arrange everything on the counter so they can help themselves.
They stomp up the steps into the RV as I’m tugging the dining tabletop into place.
“Let me do that,” Rooster says.
“You two get it out of your systems?” I ask, casting a scolding glance Jiggy’s way.
He shrugs and helps Rooster finish fixing the table. “It’s never really out of our systems.”
“You’re not kidding,” Rooster grumbles.
We fix our plates in semi-silence.
Rooster motions for me to slide into the booth first, then pulls me into his lap. He leans down and whispers, “You know I can’t resist when you say, ‘take your cock out’ with that sweet southern drawl.”