Branded as Trouble (Rough Riders #6)(45)

She shivered and squeezed her thighs tightly, trying to line up the wet, aching part of herself with his cock.


He circled his arousal against her, finding the perfect friction, and took the next kiss down to where she felt it in the very depths of her soul.


“Hey!” A gravelly voice barked. “I warned you kids once about messing around in here.”


India opened her eyes and focused on Colt. She’d never seen such hunger on a man’s face. Hunger for her.


The intruder shuffled closer and said, “Well, hell, you two aren’t exactly kids.”


“We’re aware of that.” Colt kept his gaze on India as he helped her slide off the machine.


She stood next to him on wobbly legs.


“You oughta act better than this. It’s those damn teenagers I usually hafta worry about.” The man’s jowls shook. “Found a used condom behind that pinball machine. Had to close the place down to clean every horizontal surface.”


He glared at the pinball machine behind India, looking like he expected her to pull out a bottle of Windex, a roll of paper towels and wipe her butt prints off the machine. His bulk shifted as he waited for an explanation for their behavior.


But India shot the man a flinty eyed stare. “So, we got carried away. I swear we weren’t to the condom stage…”


Yet.


The unspoken word hung in the sexually charged air.


The fat man snarled, “Get out.”


Two weeks would kill him. Hell, they hadn’t passed the two-hour mark without mauling each other. In public. Getting kicked out of an arcade for lewd behavior. For Christsake, they were adults!


Yeah. He sucked at this dating stuff as much as India did.


Which reinforced his determination to see it through. To the end.


Twelve days. Two hundred and eighty eight hours.


Not that Colt was keeping track.


They returned to the table as their pizza arrived. For the next hour, the conversation wasn’t different than the other times they’d gone out as friends.


With the exception they were holding hands.


With the exception they were making googly eyes at each other and lacing their banter with sexual innuendos.


With the exception Colt’s cock was as hard as a hockey stick.


Nah. That wasn’t anything new.


On the way back to Sundance, India scooted next to him on the bench seat. She fiddled with the radio. The temperature. The position of the air vents.



“We’re planting flowers!” the mud-pie maker exclaimed, throwing her hands up, flinging mud everywhere.


“Cool. Can I watch?” He stepped inside, bracing himself for India’s reaction.


She didn’t growl or demand he leave, like he’d expected, she smiled the angelic smile that twisted his guts into a pretzel. “Sure.


Come on in. You can even help.”


The bespectacled boy asked, “What’s your name?”


“Colt. What’s yours?”


“Hayden.” He gave Colt a thorough once-over. “Hey, are you Buck’s cousin?”


“Yes. I am. Do you know him?”


“Uh-huh. He’s my big buddy.”


“Lucky for Buck. So, Hayden, think you can help me make one of these things?”


Hayden beamed. “Yes. It’s quite logical, really.”