Hard to Handle (Caine Cousins #2)(9)

God, he was sexy.

Before she knew it, she had the vibrator turned on low, the blunt tip pressed to her clit, working her up slowly.

Reagan imagined Lynx turning to her, his heated stare practically undressing her where she lay. She imagined his eyes trailing down to where her hand was tucked beneath her panties. He was watching her as she let the vibration roll over her clit, driving her higher and higher. Then she imagined it was his tongue on her, his mouth driving her closer to the edge.

“Oh, shit!” she cried out, her orgasm slamming into her unexpectedly.

She rode it out, until she was too sensitive for the vibration. At that point, she tossed the damn toy to the bed and stared up at the ceiling. Although the relief was instant, she knew it would never be enough to keep her thoughts from drifting to that man.

And one of these days, she was going to give in.

Which would leave her where?

As another notch in Lynx Caine’s bedpost?

Forcing herself to sit up, Reagan sighed. “Yeah. No fuckin’ thank you.”





4


__________


By the time Saturday afternoon rolled around, Lynx was ready for … something. He wasn’t even sure what, but he needed something to do.

Glancing over at Copenhagen, who was snoozing on the wood floor, he considered taking the dog out, playing ball for a while. They’d spent a good part of the morning doing that after they’d returned from Reagan’s, but Cope was always up for a game of fetch.

Lynx clicked his tongue, but the dog didn’t move.

Okay, so maybe not. Poor Cope was probably hoping Lynx would give him a little breather.

But he was antsy and he didn’t know why. That wasn’t like him. Not these days anyway. When he was younger, sure. He never could sit still, always looking for trouble to get into.

In a couple of hours, he could head over to Reagan’s to get a beer. That was what he looked forward to most nights and not necessarily for the beer, either. Nope. His reason for going over there had everything to do with Reagan. It had been his own form of hell for the past few years, it seemed. Knowing he couldn’t have her, yet still holding out hope. Yeah. He was pathetic.

Only now he needed to up his game.

Maybe he should send her flowers.

Or not.

That seemed weird. Especially since he didn’t think Reagan was much into flowers. Then again, he didn’t know all of her idiosyncrasies. Sure, he knew plenty about her, but admittedly, Lynx had made a point to stay out of her business. Mostly.

With a heavy sigh, Lynx flopped back on the couch.

Boredom was a bitch.

“Hey, boy,” Calvin greeted when Lynx walked into Reagan’s a few hours later. “Where you been?”

Lynx shrugged. “Took a nap.”

Wolfe’s father grinned. “Old age does that to ya sometimes.”

“Thanks,” Lynx said when Amy delivered his beer to the table. He turned his attention back to his uncle. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t ya?”

“Hey, I ain’t complainin’,” Calvin replied. “Just be thankful I don’t take naps durin’ the workday.”

Lynx laughed. He’d caught Calvin snoozing in his chair over at the store a couple of times now, but he didn’t say as much. Instead, he lifted his bottle and tapped it against Calvin’s.

“Where’s Wolfe?” he asked, peering around the room.

“Had to do somethin’ with Rhys. Asked if I’d hang out for a bit. At least until you got here.”

That meant Wolfe wanted someone to keep an eye on Amy. He had to wonder why Wolfe hadn’t called him in the first place. His cousin knew he would’ve done it.

Calvin leaned back and looked around the room. “Looks like there’s not much trouble to be had tonight, huh?”

He sure as hell hoped not. One night a week was enough for him. Didn’t help that he was sleeping in his damn truck these days. What he needed was about eight hours in his own bed. And didn’t that make him sound old. At twenty-eight, he damn sure shouldn’t be planning how to catch some z’s in the middle of the afternoon. Shit.

Unable to help himself, Lynx glanced over behind the bar. Reagan was there talking to a couple of guys, both from Dead Heat Ranch. She was laughing at something they said, and he suddenly wished he was the one to put that damn smile on her face.

He waited, knowing she would eventually make eye contact. That’s what they did. And every damn time, it was a heady feeling, leaving Lynx reeling.

Wait for it.

Wait … for it.

There it was.

Reagan’s eyes lifted, darting over the one guy’s shoulder, coming to rest on Lynx’s. He didn’t smile, simply held her stare for a few seconds as he sipped his beer. Goddamn, the woman made him want things he had no business wanting. Not from her anyway.

“You made your move yet?”

Snapping his attention back over to his uncle, Lynx frowned.

Calvin chuckled. “Oh, come on now, boy. I might be old, but I ain’t blind. I know you’re sweet on that girl.”

Lynx took a long pull on his beer, choosing not to say anything to that. He was sweet on her. Always had been.

“That one’s gonna make you work for it,” Calvin continued. “But that’s not a bad thing. Wolfe’s momma…” The older man smiled. “God, she had me chasin’ her every-damn-where. Best time of my life.”