Slow Hand (Hot Cowboy Nights, #1)(10)

She didn’t reply, but couldn’t suppress a half smile. Wade’s conversation was easy and his boyish grin was disarming. Gradually she began to relax. They made more small talk inside the truck stop during a hastily scarfed egg and hotcake breakfast.

When they got back into the truck, Wade reached over her to open the glove box, brushing his shoulder against her breasts. Although accidental, the sudden intimate contact made her breath catch and her nipples pebble against her bra. Their gazes met, intense physical awareness once more electrifying the air between them.

“Sorry.” He broke the sudden tension. “You know that wasn’t intentional, don’t you? I was just hunting a notebook for you.”

“Yeah.” She gave a nervous laugh and willed herself to breathe again. “You hardly seem the type who needs to resort to covert tactics to cop a feel.”

He retrieved a small pad and pen and closed the glove box. “Thought you might want to jot some things down while we drive. There’s much you’ll need to do when we get to Virginia City.”

“Right. Thanks. That’s thoughtful of you.” She was glad he’d shifted the conversation back to a business level.

“By the way,” his husky voice broke into her thoughts, “if I was inclined to make a move, you’re right that I’d do it without pretense.”

“So you aren’t inclined?” She bit her lip the moment the words were out, wishing she could pull them back. He learned toward her, bracing his arm on the back of her seat, studying her face with an intensity that made her shift in her seat.

“I was always taught that a gentleman waits for an invitation.”

She fixed on his mouth, wondering what it would feel like. Would his lips be firm or soft? How would his tongue feel? How would he taste? She wet her lips, telling herself it was just a nervous reaction.

“That’s close enough for me,” Wade murmured and made his move.

Cupping her face, his mouth came over hers with smooth and well-practiced confidence. His kiss was an unhurried exploration, his lips sliding warm and firm over hers. Slanting his head, he added tiny, teasing flicks of his hot tongue and then toe-curling nips of his teeth until he caught her lower lip between them. He slowly released, staring into her eyes as if waiting for her to protest, but Nikki was too overcome to make any sound.

When she made no sign of resistance, he claimed her mouth again, but this time he was more demanding, his tongue probing the seam of her mouth until she parted her lips. The first contact of his tongue jolted her senses. Shutting her eyes and stifling a moan, Nikki curled her fingers in his hair, losing herself in the sensation of their tangling tongues. Holy shit! This man knows how to kiss. Too well. It took all she had not to melt into the seat beneath him.

That thought was enough to jar her brain and kick her protective instincts back into gear. She pressed her hands against his chest, but he was first to break the kiss.

“I didn’t invite that,” she insisted, knowing it was a lie.

“I think you did, but don’t worry. I won’t do it again until you ask.”

“What makes you think I will?” she challenged.

He turned the key and started the engine. “Because you enjoyed that every bit as much as I did. I dare you to deny it.”

She couldn’t. The kiss promised dangerous things. It had been a long time since she’d felt attraction this strong. Maybe never, but Wade Knowlton was everything she’d sworn off—all in one big hot cowboy package. Shit. Very bad word choice. Her gaze instinctively drifted southward to his crotch. She shifted it quickly away. She definitely didn’t need her mind to go there.

Another silence ensued, longer and less companionable than the ones before. “Do you mind if I turn on some music?” she asked, eager for any distraction.

“Be my guest, though I warn you there aren’t many choices.”

Intent on replacing the tension that permeated the air with music, Nikki reached for the radio dial. It was then she noticed the lack of an audio jack or even a CD player. “How old is this truck anyway?”

“I’d guess it’s about a 1980 vintage, which makes it about as old as me,” he said.

“Really?” She laughed nervously. “I don’t think I’ve ever ridden in a vehicle that was older than I am.”

“And how old is that,” he asked.

“Twenty-eight last month,” she said.

“You seeing anyone?” he asked.

The question, posed out of the blue, took her by surprise. “Not presently. It’s been a good six months since I’ve dated anyone seriously.” She turned the dial, flipping absently through static-filled stations. Finally hitting a station with a decent signal, Nikki quit fumbling with the radio. The upbeat tempo of Rascal Flatts’s “Life is a Highway” filled the air. Country. Argh. She hated country. The music was a reminder of all too many mistakes she’d made.

“I’m guessing it was a bad breakup?” he said.

“Yeah.” She gave a dry laugh. “You might say that. Why do you ask?”

“I’m just wondering why you seem so gun-shy.”

“I have a number of good reasons to be—most of them with first and last names.”

“We’re not all *s, you know, so you shouldn’t hold it against every man you meet. You can trust me when I say I’m here to help you, not to hurt you.”