Never Enough (Meet Me in Montana 1)

“Do you think you can manage to get there yourself?” I asked, my heart nearly beating right out of my chest.

“Sure, I can get there.”

The moment I let him go, he nearly fell over the love seat.

Grabbing his shirt, I pulled him back before he tumbled right over. “Crap! Brock, you are drunker than all get-out.”

Wrapping my arm around him again, I carefully and slowly guided him down the hall. There were two doors. One on the left and one on the right. The first one on the left was an office. The last door on the right was the master bedroom.

Finally.

I kicked the door open all the way with my foot, guided Brock in, and gasped at the sight before me. “This room! It’s beautiful.”

Brock mumbled something about a magazine and then leaned more on me.

“Oh, wait—Brock, I can’t hold you up like that!”

Spinning, I came face to face with him just as he lost the only bit of balance he had left, and we both started to stumble. I was going backward and couldn’t get ahold of anything to stop.

When I felt the end of the bed hit the backs of my knees, I cried out, “Oh shit!”

I fell onto the bed—and Brock fell right on top of me.

“Brock,” I gasped out. “Can’t. Breathe.”

He rolled off me, pulling me with him. Now, I was on top of him. I tried to get up and ended up straddling him.

His hands grabbed my waist and pinned me still.

Okay, this was somewhat better. I mean, at least I wasn’t suffocating now, but my girlie parts were pressed against his manly parts, and . . . holy hell, it felt good. The urge to rotate my hips was powerful, but I somehow managed to get off him . . . that is, before I got off on him.

I tried pulling him farther up.

“Brock, scoot up more! You’re hanging halfway off the bed.”

He turned his head and looked at me. “Were you just on top of me?”

“No,” I lied.

“Really? ’Cause I swear you were just straddling me.”

“Nope.” I even popped the p, giving him a bit of his own sass.

He pushed himself up the bed and draped his arm over his eyes. I quickly got his boots off. I contemplated attempting to remove his pants but thought better of that. Although a peek at his package might be sort of fun. He’d never remember a damn thing about tonight—thankfully.

With shaking hands, I reached for his belt buckle. It was one of those that cowboys won in rodeos and all. I leaned in closer to read it.

PBR World Champion.

My teeth sank into my lip. Okay, why is that title such a turn-on?

I went to work getting his belt off and then unbuttoned his pants. When I started to unzip his jeans, I froze.

“Holy hell, he’s not wearing any underwear!” I whispered in shock.

Jumping back, I stopped myself.

Would I want him to undress me if I were passed out?

No! I most definitely would not.

Stop this right now, Lincoln Pratt.

I quickly looked around for a blanket. Finding one in the closet, I covered Brock, but before I could step away, he sat up and wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me back onto the bed.

“What in the hell?” I cried as Brock quickly moved back and pulled me flush against his body. He draped his big arm over me and buried his face in my hair.

“Don’t leave me alone, Lincoln. Please?”

I froze instantly. Not even breathing until I absolutely had to. I was lying in bed with Brock Shaw. The guy I was internally debating on whether I liked him or didn’t like him.

No. I definitely liked him. Or maybe I liked the feeling of being in a man’s arms. It had been an awfully long time since I’d had any physical interaction with a man. Over a year. And the way he asked me not to leave him . . . Why did that cause my stomach to flip?

Ugh! This was not good! Not good at all. I needed to get out of Brock’s bed.

It didn’t take Brock long to fall back asleep. When I tried to move, he drew me closer to him in a death grip, like he knew I was trying to escape.

Fiddlesticks. What am I going to do now?

I was stuck. Brock had pulled me into a spoon position, and not only had he thrown his arm around me, but he’d put his leg on me as well. I wouldn’t have pegged Brock Shaw as a spooner, but boy howdy, he had me tied up in his body like I imagined a cowboy would tie up a calf. I was trapped—no chance of escaping from the grip he had on me.

Images of Brock tying me up went through my mind. His rough hands exploring my body while he covered me in soft kisses. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut.