From the Author
Having a woman athis fingertips, staying out as late as he damned well wanted to without acurfew, without having to stay away from foods and drinks that corrupted hisbody and took away from making him the best, most ruthless sports machine hecould be for the team. There were no more rules holding him in, and he didn'tknow whether that was a good thing or not.
Some people neededlines to be drawn for them, and he fit that category. The more days that passedwithout the team, without a coach, the more Reece wondered how far he'd go downthis road. At what point would he overindulge, revealing to everyone thatbefore he'd gone bronze and silver at the Games, he'd been white trash? Howlong would it take before those endorsements were pulled because they found outhe wasn't shiny and gold underneath everything?
He'd braced hishands on the table, near her thighs. She was pressing them together, her chestrising and falling with every harsh breath she took. She smelled like a flower,something pink and fresh, her lipstick dark and teasing. This close, he couldalmost fall into those eyes of hers. They were the golden color of the oneelusive medal his teams had never won, and that made her all the moredesirable.
Coasting his handscloser to her, he brushed the sides of her legs where her denim skirt wasn'tcovering her. She took in a shaky breath.
"I asked you," hesaid, "if this room is a landmark."
"Yeah. An old one."
She swallowed, herthroat working, and he kept his gaze trained there. Smooth, beautiful, tannedskin. He loved a woman's graceful, slim neck, and he lifted one hand to brushhis knuckles against hers.
"Then give me somehistory about the Rough and Tumble," he said.
After her eyesclosed for the briefest moment, they fluttered open, heavy-lidded, and her lipsparted just before she lifted her chin, allowing him more access to her throat.He stroked her as she spoke, as his body came alive again.
"The saloon itselfis where most of the history took place," she whispered.
"In what way?"
He skimmed down herneck, then over the middle of her chest.
"Miners." Sheflinched a little as he negligently rested his fingertips on her.A tiny sound of bliss seemed to get lost in her throat. Then she said, "Roughand Tumble was full of silver miners over a hundred years ago, and they wouldcome to the saloon after a hard day to drink, play cards, and throw punches."
"Seems thingshaven't changed much since then."
He took his timetracing her skin, back and forth, his body screaming at him toget on with it, to get her out of his blood.
"This place stillhas its share of fights," she said, "but no shootings since then. A miner wasgunned down over a bad poker game once."
Someone had alreadytold him that there were still bullet holes in the wall of the Rough &Tumble. "What else?"
He moved to thelacings of her shirt, pulling on the string that held it together. She watchedhim, still breathing with labored pauses between words.
"They say HowardHughes...used to drink here during his...Vegas days...before he got reclusive."
"Fascinating." Andhe wasn't necessarily speaking of the business tycoon...
From Wet and Wild (A Rough andTumble Prequel) (A Sexy Bad Boy Romance)
Copyright: Chris Marie Green