Page 55 of Rough and Rugged
He clears his throat and my gaze leaps upward, meeting those dark, haunting eyes.
“We should probably find you a towel as well.”
“You could have been a gentleman and let me have that one,” I point at the terrycloth around his waist, but my finger is aimed at the thickness just below the waistline.
“If I weren’t a gentleman, you’d have bigger issues.”
On the tip of my tongue is a question.How big?Instead, I swallow back the retort. I’m not here to get laid although I’m hungry for the act. Eager to be touched and tasted and tossed around like only a large man like Ellis’s size could handle.
But it won’t be Ellis.
It won’t be any man any time soon.
I’m still too fragileinside.
Chapter Three
Ellis
LearningGingerdoesn’thavea change of clothes, suggesting even further how ill-prepared she was for the Fest, I lead her to my truck. Grant has suspiciously wandered off.
Rummaging behind the front seat, I retrieve a flannel shirt and a Duncan Lumber sweatshirt. Both will be too big on her, but warmer than the lake water that changed her nipples to headlights and made her skin pebble. I want to run my tongue over both, heating her flesh and sucking those nips into the cavern of my mouth.
Quickly, I wipe away the image.
“Here.” I hold out both items to her. “A bit wrinkled but clean.”I think.
I always keep a spare set of clothes in the truck because you never know in my line of work when you’ll go from field to office to a night out. Although nights out have become increasingly rare. I’m grateful I’m able to catch a few hours of the festival’s fun, but this is also business.
Duncan Lumber is a major sponsor of Logger Fest. The weekend triples the size of our small town, so it’s good for local motels and restaurants, not to mention the grocer and nearby campgrounds. The large boost of income can help the area weather the difficult months between the high seasons. Fishing. Hunting. Camping. Summer. Your typical four around here.
Ginger eyes the clothing like I’m offering her something made of wool, material that might scratch and itch. Her skin is delicate, and I know she’s allergic to the fiber.
“What am I supposed to do with those?” She mocks before glancing down at herself. Her blouse is completely transparent, not disguising in the least her nude-colored bra. Those damn khaki shorts are plastered to her hips without a hint of a panty line. Her shoes might be trashed but I can’t help her there other than offer a suggestion.
“The local grocer sells flip-flops. Not ideal shoes for the day but better than your sloshed tennies. And either of these shirts might be huge on you, but warmer than what you’re wearing.”
“Tennies?”
“Tennis shoes.”
Ginger glances down at her water-logged shoes. “Gym shoes.” She lifts her head, something flashing in those brilliant eyes. “I don’t play tennis.”
I’ve struck a chord. One I can’t decipher and don’t have time to unriddle. I shake my arm, emphasizing the clothes held in her direction. “Take it or leave it.”
However, I want her to take one of them. I want to see her wearing my clothing and I’ll pretend for thirty-seconds she’s wearing them because I just had sex with her, and she tossed them on for comfort afterward.
Okay, maybe for forty-three seconds I’ll allow the fantasy because my dick is not going down at the vision of her in that damp blouse like she’s competing in a wet T-shirt contest. The only thing that makes me angry about her present attire is that other guys saw her. They’ve had a hint of what she looks like underneath that thin layer and they’re going to want a bite of her.
She’s not just a snack, though. She’s the entire meal.
Brains. Beauty. Sass.
“Fine.” She rips the flannel shirt from my hands and slips her arms into the long sleeves. I’m correct in my assessment. The size is large on her, but she quickly rolls the sleeves. Then she’s reaching underneath the front panels and working at something until her shorts drop to her ankles and she steps out of them.
God help me if she isn’t wearing anything underneath my shirt.
Her nose wrinkles in that adorable way she has. “Mind if I use your truck a second?”