Page 61 of Rough and Rugged
She’s not engaged. But she isn’t mine.
“I can give you a ride,” I tell her once we reach my truck, knowing Grant is God knows where, with whomever.
“I’ll just find Grant. Or Uber it.”
“Gonna be hard pressed to find a ride share out here,” I remind her. We’re in the middle of the woods near a lake on the back end of my personal property. We don’t have taxis or car services around here.
“I’ll figure it out.”
“Let me give you a ride.” Not a drop of what I’ve said or how I’ve said it is intended to seduce her, but her eyes light up. Her breath hitches a bit.
While I open the driver’s door, she leans against the side of my truck, crossing her arms. Her shorts and blouse from earlier are surely dried but may be damp again from the falling dew.
“You didn’t call in your favor.” She arches one brow. “For the dance.”
I stare at her, knowing exactly what I want to ask, but decide against it. “Nah. We’ll consider it a free pass.”
“Ellis.” She presses off the truck and steps closer to me. Her fingers fidget with the hem of my shirt brushing at the sides of her exposed thighs. “Ask.”
I run my tongue over my top teeth, sucking in air, knowing I can’t ask for what I really want. Instead, I say: “Tell me what you’re wearing underneath my flannel.”
Our eyes lock together. This is it. Either she slaps me or tells me I’m an idiot.
Instead, she steps even closer. Her head tipping back so she can continue to look me in the eyes.
“Why don’t you reach underneath and find out?”
My mouth pops open. Is she serious? Maybe she’s had more than I thought to drink today. But then I consider her consumption. After her third beer, she stopped a while back.
Still, she can’t mean it. She’s desperate for a rebound, using me to get back at the douche canoe.
I know my worth.
However, she sounded damn determined, confident, and strong. He wasn’t getting anywhere near her again. Not with his attitude and behavior.
Could I earn her?
After mentally arguing with myself, I snap. “Don’t toy with me,” I demand, suddenly on edge. A man on the brink after a day of wrestling with my thoughts, wondering what’s going on beneathmyshirt that’s covering all those lush curves.
She takes my hand and places my fingers on the hem of the flannel. The part where I can touch soft, worn material, and cool, tender flesh.
Dammit.
With our eyes on one another, nostrils flaring like bulls ready to charge, I move my shaky fingers beneath the flannel and caress the side of her thigh, lifting the material against her hip, coasting over smooth flesh until I find a thin scrap of fabric.
A thong.Fuck!Her ass has been exposed, rubbing up and down my shirt all day and I haven’t been able to experience it.
Until now.
Sliding my hand around her backside, I cup her ass hard and tug her toward me. She stumbles but catches herself by placing her hands on my chest. My heart hammers beneath the sweatshirt I’m wearing.
“You’re warm,” she whispers.
I’m a damn inferno ready to burn down this festival and the surrounding forest.
To my surprise, she lifts her leg, hitching her foot on the edge of the opening to the driver’s seat. The position opens her up to me, tempting me to explore more of her, like trace the line of that thin material through the crack of her ass and lower.
“Ginger. Darlin’,” I groan, kneading my fingers on her skin while her fingers fist in my sweatshirt.