Redneck Romeo (Rough Riders #15)(45)

His face flushed. “Do you know how much I hate that I used to be that guy?”


Rory mimicked his pose, placing her hands on his cheeks. “But you weren’t that guy. You stayed one hundred percent focused on me. Like I was the only thing that mattered to you.”


“You are the only person that matters to me,” he corrected softly. Then he kissed her—going beyond the lazy seductive kisses, straight to the I-wanna-f*ck-you-right-here-right-now passion that’d been waiting to erupt.


She clung to him, returning the passion without hesitation.


“I gotta stop while I still can,” he murmured against her lips after he found the strength to stop devouring her mouth. Dalton eased back to look at her. Eyes glazed with passion. Mouth damp from his. Breathing choppy. She seemed a little out of it. “Rory, you okay to drive?”


“Yeah. You just…”


“Come on, I’ll walk you to your car.”


“Dalton. This is Sundance.”


“Don’t care. Bad shit can happen here too.” He pushed away from her and reached for her hand. “Lead the way.”


Rory took a couple of steps and stopped. She looked at him with a hint of frustration. “That kiss flustered me to the point I don’t remember where the hell I parked, McKay.” Her eyes narrowed. “And no, that comment doesn’t entitle you to a cocky little smirk.”


No, but he’d definitely give her one when she was writhing beneath him later.


“I don’t want to know what that gleam in your eyes is about either.”


“That’s probably best.”


Dalton beat her to his house—but not by much. Not by enough so he had time to do what he needed.


As soon as she entered the house, he kissed her. Then he towed her to the dining room. “I wasn’t planning on this, so can you give me some time? Say ten minutes?”


“Time to do what? Wax your balls?”


He laughed. “I spent my monthly manscaping allotment on getting my back waxed. So, sorry, you’ll have to put up with my hairy balls.”


“That’s something I never thought I’d hear you say.” She touched his face. She did that a lot, which he hoped meant she liked his face.


He pecked her on the lips. “You want something to drink? Soda?”


“I’ll pour myself a soda while you’re…jacking off so you last longer or whatever you’re doing.”


The flip, semi-mean comment meant Rory was nervous.


That made two of them.


Dalton really hoped she wouldn’t laugh when she saw what he’d worked up. He headed to the bedroom and shut the door behind him.


He finished in eight minutes and allowed himself a minute to breathe. He kicked off his boots, ditched his socks and whipped off his shirt.


Rory stood in front of the living room window. Those rhinestone-encrusted jeans immediately drew his gaze to her ass. He couldn’t wait to have it in his hands.


“You do realize that growling sound you just made isn’t helping ease my state of mind?”


Dalton glanced up to see her looking over her shoulder at him. He moved toward her. “Where’s your mind right now?”


“Focused on what’s behind door number one.”


He set his hands on her shoulders. “So come take a look.”


“I almost left,” she blurted.


His hands gripped her shoulders as if that’d keep her from fleeing. “Why would you have left?”


“Because this is weird. I thought you’d meet me at the door, blow my mind with another kiss. Then clothes would fly, we’d go at it right on your couch in a fit of passion.”


“It’s been like that between us before. I didn’t want that again.”


“Didn’t want what? Passion?”


He kissed the section of skin below her ear. “You’re testy, sugarplum. If you’ve changed your mind, say so.”


Rory whirled around to face him. “Why did you need time to prepare? I wondered if you were just sitting in there, seeing how long it’d take me to bust in.”


“When I said no games, Rory, I meant it.”


“But—”


Dalton got right in her face. “Stop. Talkin’.” He shook his head when she opened her mouth to protest. He kissed her forehead. “Trust me. Now close your eyes.”


As soon as she complied he pressed a gentle kiss on each eyelid.


Then he caught her peeking as he kissed her mouth. The little sneak. So he spun her, herding her back toward the bedroom, putting an end to her peeking.


Once they were through the doorway, he said, “Turn around.”


She spun so fast she almost lost her balance.


Dalton stayed behind her and let her look her fill.


He’d transformed his plain bedroom into a romantic space. Clean white cotton sheets on the bed. A dozen red candles scattered about, filling the room with a subtle scent and a soft light. He’d draped a bronze neckerchief over the bedside lamp, creating a golden glow.