Page 55 of Texas Kissing

“Yup.” I made a show of looking around, a delighted, fake smile pasted on my lips. I pointed at a stall. “Look—deep fried iced tea on a stick.”

He’d almost looked as if he’d gone pale, but it must have just been the light. This wasBull,after all. “Yeah,” he said. “Have to try that.”

I could feel the panic starting to build. My feet wouldn’t stay still on the floor of the car and, every time the wind rocked us, my grip on the safety rail tightened until I thought I was going to tear right through it. Bull, meanwhile, had one hand lazily resting on his hat to make sure the wind didn’t take it, while the other arm was wound around my waist.

Quitetightlyaround my waist, actually. I guess he wanted me to feel safe.

I turned to him suddenly. “Kiss me,” I said.

He licked his lips. “‘Scuse me?”

“Kiss me! I mean, I want to kiss you, right now.” Any excuse to shut my eyes.

He leaned across, pulled me along the seat to him and—

Suddenly the world became still and warm and glorious. His lips were like givers of life, sending energy and comfort flooding through me. I gave a contented little sigh. The wind must have died because the car seemed to stop rocking altogether and hung dead still.

His tongue played with the join between my lips, meeting my own tongue there and dancing with it. I groaned softly against him and opened and then we were twisting and moving, luxuriating in it. It was very different to how we’d kissed before, a kiss that was all about security and warmth.

Someone coughed, right in front of me. I opened my eyes to see the guy who ran the ride, and the people waiting to get on. How was that possible? Weren’t we still at the top?

The guy swung the safety bar out of the way and we guiltily broke the kiss and stood up.

“Unless you want to go round again,” offered Bull.

“No, no. Someone else should have a turn.”

43

Bull

I feltbad that we only rode the wheel once, because she’d so obviously enjoyed it. She probably would have happily ridden it all day if it hadn’t been for me, but one more look at those tiny little cows down on the ground and—well, I got my limits.For her birthday, I’m going to have to get her a parachute jump.

Not far from the Ferris wheel there was one of those vintage photo booths where you get dressed up in old-fashioned clothes and get a photo taken of you. I still didn’t have a photo of Lily and I figured it’d be a good opportunity. Besides, the place probably had corsets and the idea of Lily’s curves, spilling out of a corset...oh, sweet Lord. I towed Lily over there.

“A photo?” she said immediately. “I don’t really like photos.”

I frowned at her. “Why not?”

She shrugged as if embarrassed. “I don’t like people looking at me.”

I wasn’t totally sure I bought it. She sometimesseemed a little shy about her body, but.... “No one’s going to see it except us.”

She looked so nervous about it, I nearly abandoned the whole idea. But then one of the dresses they had on display caught her eye—a scarlet thing, all silk and ribbons. I could feel my cock rise just at the thought of her in it. “No one?” she asked tentatively, fingering the fabric.

“No one. Look, it’s authentic, old-fashioned - you get a printed photo. It can go on the wall at my place.” To be fair, there was an option to get a copy emailed to you as well, but we didn’t have to do that.

She stared at the dress for a moment, then at me. “Okay,” she said at last.

Twenty bucks and thirty seconds later, we were “backstage” in the booth, looking at costumes. I took off my hat and set about choosing a new one.

Lily stood in front of a full-length mirror and held up the dress she’d seen outside. “You think this is too much?” she asked, fingering the bodice.

“NO!”I said, more firmly than I’d intended. She looked up at me, startled, and I almost blushed. I was just so damn eager to see her in it.

“I don’t know,” she said. “It’s kind of...I always thought of myself as more of a schoolmarm, you know? This is more saloon girl.”

I sidled up behind her and wrapped my arms around her. “Lily, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but you’redefinitelya saloon girl.” She slapped me playfully. “Oh, come on! Who wants to be a schoolmarm?”