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  A moment of panic had her sliding off the table and turning around, her hips against the edge, her hands flat on the table. “Take me from behind.” It was perfect, the exact way she wanted him. None of that face-to-face shit. Just hard, hot sex and she’d be done. Over him. Wipe him out of her mind.

  He pulled her skirt up her legs, bunching it at her waist.

  Cool air hit the wet fabric between her legs, then, with a quick rip, her panties were off, and a blur of color as he threw them across the room.

  His rough fingers touched her there, making her body jump and quiver, her pussy lips swell and cream.

  “Goddamn, you’re wet.” He mumbled the words as his finger slid inside her, pushing its way deep into her core. “Hot. Tight. Fuck me.”

  Her slit contracted tight around his finger, her head spinning with the touch, the words, the knowledge that in seconds, Pete Gonally would be pushing his heavy shaft deep into her. As her head dropped and her arms shook, he twirled his finger in quick circles inside her. Her cry echoed off the tall ceiling. “Inside me. Now.” She didn’t want to come until he was there, until he—

  “Yes, boss lady.” His finger slid out, then the snap of latex sounded before his hands gripped her bare ass. “Whatever you want.”

  She didn’t care if he was being a bastard or not, she just cared that she hung suspended over a deep drop-off, and wanted to race head-first down into bliss.

  The hot tip of his cock touched her heated lips, then pushed in, slowly at first, then with more speed, more force, until CJ could feel him deep inside, her body making room for him. “Yes, yes, oh jeez, yes, Pete.” Her eyes rolled back in her head, intense blasts of heat rolled through her, up her spine, and into her brain.

  When he pulled out nearly the whole way, she wanted to order him back in, but before words formed, he shoved forward, deep into her, until his thighs banged against hers.

  It’d been too long, too many months without this, that’s why she was seconds from coming. Not because it was Pete. Not because it was her sexy hayseed. “Now. Please!” She shouted as light bulbs popped in her head and her body sailed through time, left the Earth.

  His movements came faster, rattling her bones as he pummeled into her with primal groans that sent her spinning faster and faster.

  She gasped for breath as her muscles let go, and she fell flat on the table, the crinkle of paper under her cheek.

  His strokes slowed, but his cock stayed hard and hot. This wasn’t over. She let a tiny smile curl the corners of her mouth. Wasn’t over for her, either. Another ripple of heat began in her canal, and would quickly turn into waves of need.

  “You feel good, CJ. Perfect around me.”

  She squeezed her muscles, gripping him with all her strength.

  “Ah, yeah. Show me who’s the boss.” He rotated his hips as he shoved into her, hitting sweet spots she didn’t know she had.

  But his words hit a sore spot in her heart. “Just shut up and make me come again.” Damn. Had she really just said that? When was she going to get that speed bump installed between her brain and her mouth?

  He hesitated a second, then smacked her ass so hard, she felt the ripple all the way up her spine.

  What the fuck? She pushed up onto her hands and turned to look at him. “Pete, you’d—”

  He struck her other ass cheek, harder than the first time. “Why don’t we both shut up and just enjoy this.”

  She clamped her lips together, but he leaned over her, his hard abs and chest tight against her back, and kissed her, forcing his tongue into her mouth again. She couldn’t resist, and their tongues dueled for quick, sensual seconds before he trailed kisses across her jaw, over her neck, and down her shoulder.

  Gripping her breasts, he tugged at her nipples, matching the pulls with the thrust of his cock into her slit.

  Her head dropped to one side, her arms shook, and she relied on him to hold her up.

  “Touch your clit for me, CJ.” He rumbled the words into her ear. “Do it now.”

  With a shaking hand, she reached down past her rucked-up skirt, felt her tight curls, damp with her cream, and slid her fingers back to touch where Pete joined with her.

  “Aw, yeah.” His words rumbled like distant thunder.

  Slick with her juices, his sheathed cock eased between her fingers like a hot piece of slippery steel.

  “Touch yourself.” He released one of her nipples and grasped her hand, guiding her fingers to her clit, and holding her there, moving slowly, circling the tight bud.

  CJ did as he told her, the exact way he guided her, and with his fingers holding open her sensitive skin for her easy access, she let the bulldozer of an orgasm hit her right between the eyes. Her mind blew apart, sending tingles of rapture through her nerve endings, making her scream, forcing her knees to buckle, and her core to convulse with each slam of his cock inside her.

  He shouted, jackhammered into her, his hips and thighs smacking into her so hard, the table moved inch-by-inch until it banged into the wall.

  She shuddered and concentrated on each perfect pulse of blood through her heated body, each inch of skin that touched Pete’s, each breath from his mouth that puffed along her neck. Floating back from the best orgasm she’d ever had, she lay on the table, panting, her face wet with perspiration, not caring that she might smudge his drawing.

  He slowed his thrusts and a shudder raced through Pete’s body. He fell on top of her, his elbows on the table to support his weight. “That was good.” A half-laughing groan escaped his throat. He kissed the nape of her neck. “Very sexy.”

  A chill raced down her spine. It had been good, but fueled by anger and too-long suppressed need, it had probably been a mistake. And if she ended up tossed back in time twenty minutes, she wouldn’t hesitate to make the same mistake again. But one mistake was all she would let herself make.

  “I like the table here.” His voice whispered hot in her ear.

  She let out a soft chuckle. He was a nice guy. Would probably apologize now, for being so angry with her, would read more into it than just a stress-relieving interlude.

  He caressed her shoulder with one hand, and kissed her temple, soft and lovingly.

  Lovingly? The burst of panic hit so fast, it was like a cold shower. She couldn’t do it. Couldn’t fall for this guy. A man so attached to his ranch that he only left it on weekends, a guy who would expect her to hunker down in the middle of nowhere with him and never leave. Never see any more of the world than she already had.

  Lovingly? Yes, she could easily do that, too, but would it be fair to him? To let this go on until one or both of them was so emotionally attached that—

  Pete wrapped his arms around her. “Bedroom.” He stood, lifting her.

  “No.” She shoved out of his arms, stumbling backward. “We’re done here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Pete jerked back, his chest aching like he’d been kicked by a mule. CJ was done with him? After she’d brought him up to her apartment, thrown herself at him, and had some of the rawest, hottest sex he’d ever had?

  What the hell was wrong with her? “Are you joking?”

  “No.” She worked her skirt down, then held the edges of her blouse together, covering her breasts. “This was a mistake.” Her eyes shifted to the side.

  “A mistake?” He stomped into the kitchen and used a paper towel to clean up, then hiked up his jeans and put on his shirt, re-snapping it, but ending up with one extra snap at the bottom. The woman had been alone, closed up in a dark bar or perched on a rooftop alone for far too long. She didn’t realize she risked being alone forever, if she didn’t let someone into her life.

  He’d tried to be her friend. Fuck, maybe he should have stayed with that plan. But no other woman had captured his attention so quickly, so completely. And he’d wanted her like a man wants his woman. On the dining room table, in her bed, on the roof, on the top of the bar after Dirty Harry’s closed for the night.

  She pointed t
o the drawing, one corner rolled up, a spot in the middle crinkling from her sweat.

  His cock jerked in his pants. She had been so fucking hot, they’d both sweated and groaned and—

  “That’s the one I want on the bike. Take it and go. You can get your paint and start this weekend.” She didn’t even look at the drawing.

  Pete watched her, standing like a statue, her eyes never lifting to meet his. This wasn’t what she wanted. Not the animal menagerie motorcycle art, not the hectic life she was leading, not the denial of a need for someone in her life. He would help her see that. And it would either make her open up like a flower, or would lock him out of her world for good.

  “You don’t know what you want, CJ.”

  Her gaze shot to his, first wide-eyed, then shuttered with anger. “Don’t kid yourself, Pete. It was good, but I’m not going to—”

  “No. I mean the drawing.” He’d start there, work his way to harder issues. “You don’t like this theme. You never said why you didn’t like the first drawing.” He’d guess that it was just too personal for a private person like her. “But the other drawing isn’t about you. It’s about creating a living memorial for your father.”

  Her mouth dropped open but she didn’t breathe.

  He’d been right. The first drawing had been too gut-wrenching for her.

  “No one wants to ride around on a motorcycle with my dad’s face on…” Her voice choked to a halt.

  She was worried about not selling enough tickets? Or was that just an excuse? “Whoever wins the bike, I’ll offer to repaint it for them if they don’t like it. And you can put that on the advertising.”

  Blinking, CJ looked away. “I don’t know if that would work.”

  With his offer to repaint, he’d taken away her only objection to the artwork. Or at least the only objection she would voice out loud. “Let’s let your patrons decide.”

  She glared at him, a furrow marring her perfect brow line. “What do you mean? Have them vote on the design?”

  “Yeah.” He slid the coasters off the corner and rolled up the drawing. “Right now. We’ll hang these both up on the wall downstairs and… Unless you destroyed the other drawing.”

  “No. Of course I didn’t.” The words shot out of her like lead from a pellet gun.

  He had to turn away to hide the emotion in his eyes. She did like his drawing enough to keep it, but didn’t want to share it with the world because it was her cross to bear. Her private sorrow to live. “I’ll go downstairs while you change.” He walked toward the elevator, picking up his hat along the way. “You got some tickets or slips of paper we can use for the voting?”

  “Wait.” Her voice came out loud, panicky. “I didn’t agree to this.”

  He turned to face her. “Your only objection is that you don’t think anyone would buy tickets to win the Memory bike, right?” He knew he was painting her into a corner; she either had to agree that was the reason, or admit to him her hesitation to trust anyone with her personal life.

  “Yes. It is.” She said it in a voice as clipped as a drill sergeant.

  “Well, then?” He pressed the elevator button.

  She didn’t answer.

  “I’ll be at the bar.” When she didn’t speak, he stepped into the elevator, pressed the button for the ground floor, and caught sight of her pale face as the doors slid shut.

  With a long breath, he made himself forget how ungentlemanly he’d been—both during sex, and after. The sex, hell yeah, that was amazing. The way he’d worked her afterward didn’t leave him with a good feeling. But if it helped her through this rough patch in her life, showed her that she was not the only one who missed Harry, that there were others around who would support her…

  Hell. What was he now, a grief counselor? Crazy. It was crazy how much he felt for her. And just about anything was what he’d do for her.

  In the bar, he knocked on the office door.

  Dolby opened it.

  “Hey, could you help me get something set up in the bar?”

  Ten minutes later, they had two boxes with slits cut in the top set on tables shoved up against the wall, a roll of tickets, and double-sided tape. All they needed was CJ and the other drawing.

  The patrons eyed Dolby and Pete, but no one questioned them. The clientele was a mix of ages, from barely twenty-one to well-past reaching the social security age. It would be interesting to see how they voted.

  The elevator opened and CJ walked in wearing a sweatshirt and jeans and carrying his original drawing.

  Dolby looked her up and down, then swung his gaze to Pete.

  It took all his concentration not to blush.

  CJ stormed over to them. “You’re seriously doing this?” Her lips nearly disappeared as she scrunched them together.

  “We’re seriously doing this.” Pete picked up the microphone he’d gotten from the bartender. “Make the announcement.”

  Closing her eyes for a moment, she swayed just a bit. “Ah, fuck.” She looked at the roll of tickets, then at the boxes and tape, and grabbed the mic, turning toward her customers. “Tony, cut the music for a second.”

  The thumping rock stopped and the room grew silent. Every eye watched CJ.

  She licked her lips. “We need your help picking the artwork that’s going on the motorcycle we’re raffling off at the Halloween party.” She sucked in a breath and let it out. “If you’re interested at all, come up and get a ticket, and stick it in the box under the drawing you like.” She waited a few seconds. “While you’re up, go buy another beer, too.” She turned off the mike.

  The crowd laughed, shouted a few suggestions at her, then the music started up again.

  She walked away.

  Dolby shrugged, then helped Pete hang up the animal drawing. Stepping back, he looked at it. “Lots of critters.”

  Pete laughed. “Yep.” He unrolled the drawing he’d labeled, “Memories.” They got it hung, and Dolby took a close look.

  “You bastard.” The man’s voice ground like a road grader. He looked at Pete, tears in his eyes. “Nobody makes me cry.” He blinked a few times. “Bastard.” He picked up the roll of tickets, tore one off, and stuck it in the box under “Memories.”

  “Thanks, Dolby. That’s probably the best compliment on my artwork I’ve ever gotten.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Best you just go find Miss CJ and see if you can fix whatever you fucked-up between you two.” He tore off a ticket and handed it to the first man in line.

  Pete turned and saw the entire bar lining up to vote. His chest filled with an emotion that felt like pride, excitement, and anticipation all rolled into one. Wandering off, he found CJ in the kitchen eating from a mountain of fries. “Voting’s started. Looks like we’ll have a good turnout.”

  She nodded but wouldn’t meet his eye. “I know what bikers like. They’re not going to go for that sentimental shit about Harry.”

  Pete hadn’t expected her to bite at him that way. Fuck, she was more emotionally shut down than he’d thought. “Care to place a bet on that?”

  She looked up at him. “Yes, I do.” She crossed her arms. “When they vote for mine…I mean the nature one, you’ll pay for your own paint and supplies for the project.” She smirked.

  Did she think he’d back off because he was a poor farmer? “Deal. And when they vote for ‘Memories’?”

  Shoving another fry into her mouth, she looked around, chewing. “Anything you want, with the exception of anything sexual between us.” She picked up three fries and chomped them in half with her white teeth.

  Pete grinned. “I got it. You’ll be the bikini model for the photo shoot when they pick ‘Memories’.”

  She choked a couple times before swallowing. Cupping her breasts, she shook her head. “Nobody wants to see these in a bikini.” She dropped her hands.

  “Boss lady.” He stepped closer, picked up a fry, and held it to her lips. “I’ve seen your long, sexy legs. The pretty sweep of your back, that concave belly of yours
with the perfect belly button just waiting to be tasted.”

  Her eyes stared unblinking into his. She opened her mouth and took a bite of the fry.

  Behind his fly, his shaft started shifting and filling. “Your breasts are the perfect size, just a handful, but those nipples, fucking cherry red and sweet as pie. Makes me wonder…” He glanced down to the vee between her legs, covered in denim.

  She swallowed.

  “Makes me wonder what color that sweet pie is.” He set his hand on the counter and got a little closer. “Makes me hungry for a long, slow taste of it.”

  CJ’s breath came fast, then she froze for a second and turned her head.

  The four people in aprons and paper hats stared at them.

  She snapped her fingers at them. “You want how much docked from your pay?” She shoved Pete aside as the kitchen staff scrambled back to work.

  Stomping around him, she headed for the bar.

  “CJ.” He made the name a slow, bedroom growl.

  She stopped but didn’t turn around.

  He picked up her basket of fries and leaned over her, his arm coming around to hold the food in front of her. “You forgot something.”

  She grabbed the basket and became a blur as she disappeared into the main part of the bar.

  He laughed and took a step to follow her.

  “Here you go, buddy.” One of the cooks, an older guy with a wrinkled, tan face, handed him a basket with two burgers and a heap of fries. “Tangling with that lady, you’re gonna need to keep up your strength.”

  They both laughed. “Thanks.” Pete started eating even before he took a step. The burger, like the advice, was damn good.

  ****

  CJ stared at the piles of tickets. No need to count them. “Memories,” as that cocky shit called it, had about ten times the votes.

  Pete leaned against the wall near his drawings, not saying a word, but the twinkle in his eyes said it all.

  “Cocky shit,” she mumbled.

  “What was that?” He leaned closer.

  “Don’t think I’m happy about this.”

  Pete shook his head. “I don’t think you’re happy about anything, Miss CJ.” He started pulling down the drawings.