Her hands slide into my hair as she moves her mouth against mine. The heat of her pussy is warm against my stomach, her swollen breasts pushed against my chest.
“I want to fuck you right here,” I growl, but Ryan’s cries ruin the moment. I pull back from the kiss and rest my forehead against Dani’s. “Maybe we just practice for another baby for a while,” I groan.
“Practice makes perfect.”
“You’re already perfect, pretty girl,” I say, lowering her to her feet. “You driving or am I?”
“You just want to sit in the back with Ryan and play with him.” She laughs because she knows she is right.
“So?”
“Go on,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I’ll drive.”
I swipe the keys out of her hands. “Not a chance. You’re too slow, and we have plans.”
The sun begins to drop behind the tops of the trees. I jog around the front of the car but stop before getting in. Looking up at the sky and the wild pattern of purples and pinks, I think of all the things I hoped for in my life. None of them I got. Yet, somehow, it sure feels like I got everything.
About the Author
USA Today and Amazon Top 10 Bestselling author Adriana Locke lives and breathes books. After years of slightly obsessive relationships with the flawed bad boys created by other authors, Adriana has created her own.
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She resides in the Midwest with her husband, sons, and two dogs. She spends a large amount of time playing with her kids, drinking coffee, and cooking. You can find her outside if the weather's nice and there's always a piece of candy in her pocket.
For an email every time Adriana has a new release, sign up for an alert here: http://bit.ly/AmazonAlertAdriana or text the word adriana to 21000.
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Also by Adriana Locke
The Exception Series The Exception The Connection, a novella The Perception
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The Landry Family Series Sway Swing
Switch
Swear
Swink
Sweet - coming Summer 2018
The Gibson Boys Series Crank Craft
Cross, a novella Crave—coming Summer 2018
Standalone Novels Sacrifice Wherever It Leads Written in the Scars Battle of the Sexes Lucky Number Eleven
12 Days Until Sunday—coming fall 2018
Love & Hate at the Stallion Station
A Dark Texas Nights short story
Lex Martin
“Love and Hate at the Stallion Station” is a short story featuring Chase and Willow, characters related to the Dark Texas Night series.
Copyright ? 2018 by Lex Martin All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Love & Hate at the Stallion Station
A Dark Texas Nights short story
Chase
A bead of sweat rolls down my forehead, and I wipe it away with the back of my hand. It might be raining outside, but it’s still humid as hell in the barn. I’m dying to knock off for the night, take a long shower so I feel human again, and toss back a cold beer, but these guys need to get tucked in.
I give Rowdy Good Time a scratch behind his ear.
“It’s just rain, big guy.” The sorrel stallion doesn’t look convinced and stomps in his stall. “I promise, everything’s okay.” I speak in a soft voice, like I would to a child. I don’t have any kids—thank God—but if I did, I’m guessing this is the way I’d sound. Nothing like I usually do when I have to bark out orders around here. But a nighttime routine in the middle of a Texas thunderstorm requires a gentle hand.
“Chin up. You’ll see your girlfriend tomorrow.”
It’s probably sad that my horse has more going on in his love life than I do. Not that I’ve tried too hard up to this point, but as I get closer to my thirtieth birthday, the more significant this shit seems. Sure, I’ve dated but nothing serious. Sex with a willing, warm woman is easy enough to come by without any entanglements or drama.
Which is how I find myself alone, in a barn full of horses, on a Friday night.
My back pocket buzzes with another text. I pull it out and shake my head when I see the message from my cousin.
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Ethan: You’re really flying solo? Aww, the captain of the football team can’t get a date?
Fucker. I laugh as I confirm that RSVP for his wedding later this summer. He shouldn’t be shocked I’m going alone.
It’s not that I can’t have a date. It’s that I don’t want a date. Not for a wedding. There’s no one I’m serious enough about to tread those waters. Take a woman to a wedding and she starts imagining herself in that white dress and you at the altar.
No thanks.
Add in the way Ethan looks at his fiancée, Tori, and I want to gag a little.
The sound of tires squealing to a stop on my gravel drive out front makes me pause as I’m finishing up with the last horse. I step out of the stall into the center aisle in time to catch Willow Summers stomping through the barn looking fierce as fuck and just as fine as the first time I laid eyes on her in high school. Over the years, I’ve bumped into her around town, but she generally avoids me, so it’s surprising to see her here.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of this delightful visit, Miss Summers?”
Her scowl deepens, and I chuckle. This woman could shrivel a lesser man’s dick at ten paces with that glare. I don’t fancy myself as someone who has crushes, but if I did, it’d be Willow. No one else has ever come close to fitting that bill except her.
“Don’t you smile at me, you cocky bastard. You know full well why I’m here.” Her long black hair looks wild about her shoulders. Droplets of rain glisten across her beautiful, albeit pissed, face.
For some reason, I’ve always had this effect on her. Like she’s not sure if she wants to slap me or fuck me. Unfortunately, she’s never given in to the impulse to get naked and horizontal with yours truly, but I’m pretty sure she’s nearly slapped me a time or two in the fifteen years I’ve known her.
I allow myself a quick perusal of her petite frame.
A baby blue tank top that matches her hypnotic eyes. A billowy white skirt that teases me with glimpses of those luscious legs. A pair of scuffed cowboy boots.
I back away before all my blood heads south.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Haven’t a clue.” I tug off my baseball cap and reach for my T-shirt that’s dangling off the back pocket of my Wranglers. After a quick swipe of the fabric across my forehead, neck, and chest, I can breathe again.
Something about this woman has always driven me crazy. Wish I could scratch that itch and get her out of my system once and for all, but she’s never given me the time of day. I’ve never had any trouble getting my pick of females around here, but Willow’s in a class of her own.
When she doesn’t say anything, I turn back to her.
She stares up at me and blinks.
I don’t miss the way her eyes take me in. The way they travel over my chest and shoulders. Down my abs.
She opens her mouth a few times before she says anything. “Can you please put on some clothes?”
I fight a smile. “Why? Afraid you can’t control yourself around me? Is my virtue in danger?”
A laugh escapes me as she rolls her eyes, but I don’t miss the heat rising in her cheeks. We’ve never lacked sexual chemistry. And I’d bet everything in my wallet that she’d have given into this long ago if I had a different last name.
She huffs. “You mean if you had any virtue left? I assumed you left that in Mr. Hillar’s meadow our senior year.”
My smile widens. “Had some fond memories there back in the day. Would’ve been fonder if some of them included you.”
Her nostrils flare. “In your dreams.”