Cowboy Blues

Chapter 2-2

Focus on the conversation. Don’t stare at his ass.

“Oh, this isn’t my first year. I’m doing more events now because I can actually afford the thousand dollar entry fee, but I started traveling with my Uncle Travis when I was fifteen, and started riding when I was seventeen.”

He opened the cupboard above the tiny sink and pulled out a deck of cards, kept together with a rubber band. A bottle of tequila, a shaker of salt, and a lime from the narrow fridge followed.

“Know how to play cards?”

She tried not to stare at the tequila. Lonnie would tan her hide if he found out she’d snuck away to go drinking with Spencer Cole. She had never had anything stronger than beer. Did Spencer realize she was only eighteen? Well, she wasn’t going to be the one to tell him. She wouldn’t risk getting kicked out.

Rebecca smiled. “Depends on the game.”

He sat down beside her, leaving enough room between them for the cards, and balanced the bottle and salt on the windowsill above their shoulders. Leaning across the narrow space, he pulled a shot glass from the drawer.

“Five-card stud. Rules are simple. No cards wild, and the loser takes a shot.”

“Sounds good to me.” She held out her hand. “I get to deal.”

Spencer shuffled the deck, the cards fluttering quickly between his fingers. “You don’t trust me?”

“I like to call it, evening the odds.”

“Smart girl,” he said, sliding the deck across the cushion.

Their fingers glanced across each other as she took the deck away. Squaring the cards in her hand, Rebecca quickly dealt the first four cards—an eight to Spencer, a king to her, another eight to him, and then a three to her. Her cards weren’t even the same color, let alone the same suit.

“Crap,” she muttered.

“You could still get lucky.” She set a jack in front of him and a two on top of her three. “Look, all you need is a king, then you’ve got me beat.” She didn’t get her king, but she did get another three. Unfortunately, a pair of threes did not beat three of a kind. He winked at her. “Maybe we should have called deuces wild, huh?”

Rebecca scooped up the cards. “So first shot is mine, I guess.” She began shuffling the deck to hide the trembling in her fingers. “Is this where I admit to never having tequila before?”

“Not once? I guess I better show you the right way to do it.” He took a small pocketknife from his jeans and cut the lime into wedges, careful not to get juice all over the cards. He offered her the first wedge, the rind just an inch from her mouth. “Bite into this.”

Rebecca obediently opened her mouth and bit into the green skin, holding it firmly with her teeth. A little of the juice dribble down her chin. She wiped it away quickly as he opened the bottle and filled the shot glass.

“You watching?”

She nodded and he took her hand, raising her wrist to his mouth. Rebecca stiffened as his tongue darted out and swiped across her pounding pulse, wetting the skin. Spencer sprinkled salt on the damp patch, and licked her again. The first time had taken her by surprise, but the second time he touched her with his tongue, a jolt shot through her body, making her fingers and toes curl. As soon as he pulled away from her, he downed the tequila, then leaned over and captured the lime with his teeth.

Watching and listening to him suck at the pulp made Rebecca’s mouth water. She was pretty sure this wasn’t the traditional way of drinking tequila, but hell if she would stop him from putting his mouth anywhere near her body. He’d been so close when he’d taken the lime she’d smelled the aftershave and drying sweat on his skin. How much more would she smell the next time he did it?

Her heart suddenly took off at a gallop.

Crap. She had to do this now. She had to lick Spencer Cole.

Her gaze strayed to his wrist. He was tanned and sinewy, light brown hairs disappearing beneath his cuff. Her mouth watered again.

“You’re going to have to roll your sleeve up if I’m going to do this right.”

Spencer set the lime aside and unbuttoned his cuffs, rolling both sleeves up his arms, exposing muscled forearms. He set his cowboy hat aside, revealing damp hair, smashed close to his head. Losing the hat made him look younger. His grinning mouth closed around the rind of a fresh wedge of lime.

Taking a deep breath, Rebecca poured out another shot of tequila and set both aside to pick up the salt shaker. She took his hand and turned it palm up, exposing the smoother skin of his wrist, before leaning down, watching him through her lashes. Spencer didn’t look away as she dragged her tongue over his pulse point. He didn’t look away when she sprinkled salt on the wet skin. And he didn’t look away when she licked it off.

Her body felt like it was on fire. She needed the tequila just to calm her racing nerves.

Picking up the shot glass, she held it to her mouth and tipped her head back as she’d seen him do. The tequila scalded where it hit the back of her mouth, and her eyes watered. Rebecca clutched the front of his shirt and yanked Spencer toward her, desperate for the lime. It had to help. It couldn’t make things worse. She barely even felt him as she sucked the fruit past her lips.

The juice took a bit of an edge off the tequila, but not much. She gasped for breath, the lime falling from her lips unheeded, and tried to fan her hot face with her hands. Spencer watched her with dancing eyes, more amused than concerned by her flushed cheeks.

“It’s got a bit of a kick, doesn’t it? The first time I did that, it knocked me flat on my ass. You’ll be taking shots like an old hand in no time. Deal?”

She gestured helplessly toward the cards. “You do it. Maybe I’ll have better luck with you.”

Spencer gathered up the pile of cards with a single motion of his hand. His fingers moved quickly as he straightened the deck and shuffled it. For a moment, the only sounds in the camper were the swish of the cards and the blood pounding in her ears. The tequila had gone straight to her head, already skewing her depth perception a little.

“Nine of hearts. Seven of clubs. Ace of hearts. Jack of diamonds.” Spencer dealt out all ten cards, announcing the number and suit with each one he overturned. “And my pair of aces beat your pair of nines.” He looked up and grinned. “Your turn again, Becca.”

She blinked. “What did you just call me?”

He lifted his brow. “Becca, Rebecca. You don’t like it?”

“No, I do,” she rushed. “It’s just, nobody calls me that. Everybody calls me Becky, which I hate, but nobody seems to care. Small town thinking, you know. We get stuck in our ways, and we don’t know how to change, and I’m totally babbling now, aren’t I?” She blushed, though that could have been from the tequila or her embarrassment. “Right. My turn. What is it I have to do again?”

Spencer poured her a shot, and then pointed to a spot higher on his arm, close to his elbow. “Lick here.”

She leaned forward and dragged the flat of her tongue over his skin.

“Now the salt.”

The tiny specks of salt looked bright against his dark skin, and her mouth watered, but not for the alcohol. He caught his breath when she touched him with her tongue again, chasing the granules of salt.

“Now drink,” he instructed hoarsely before biting into the lime.

It wasn’t quite as rough going down the second time, and Rebecca was more aware of closing the distance to Spencer’s mouth. She caught the soft fruit with her teeth, but instead of pulling it away, she sucked at it right there, closing her eyes to stave off the dizziness threatening to overwhelm her. The juice ran down her chin. A light weight settled on her shoulder.

Spencer pulled away, but he didn’t take his hand from her shoulder. She opened her eyes slowly, surprised at the effort it took. His face was still very close to hers, close enough she smelled the lime juice on his lips, though the wedge itself was no longer in his mouth. He brushed the back of his other hand across her chin, and it took a few seconds for her to realize he wiped juice away.

“You okay?”

Wordlessly, Rebecca nodded. Her lips felt swollen, her tongue too thick to speak. The room spun, though she understood that was from the tequila and not some freak of nature. The details of his face captivated her. He had a little scar on his cheek, high up near his temple, and she tilted her head in order to look at it a little better.

“Did you get this from bull riding?” she asked, reaching up to touch it.

“A bull clipped me with his back hoof. He came about this close,” Spencer held his fingers an inch apart, “to smashing my skull in.”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth made a soft o in sympathy. Without thinking, Rebecca leaned forward and skimmed her lips over the mark.

“You bull riders are crazy,” she murmured.

“You’d have to be a little crazy, I suppose.” To her surprise, he gently pushed her back to arm’s length. “But you’ll never find another high like it. It’s worth a little risk to do something you love. I’ll deal again.”

Rebecca barely noticed the cards this time. She was too busy studying every bit of him, looking for previously unnoticed scars. He didn’t seem to mind her intent perusal.

“Looks like you win,” he announced, startling her back to attention. “Just a pair of fives, but I’ve got nothing.”

The implication of his words took a moment to sink in. With a half-smile, he guided a lime wedge to her mouth, but when he grasped her wrist, ready to wet it for the salt, Rebecca yanked her hand back.

“Not there.” Plucking the lime out, she repeated herself, pushing her hair off her shoulder. “I win, I get to pick where you take the shot from.” She curled her fingers into the neckline of her top, exposing more of her shoulder and neck as she tilted her head to the side. “Here.”

Spencer slid forward, heedless of the cards he sent to the floor, and gripped her shoulder. She remained motionless as he tilted his head, resisting the urge to lean into him. Her chest hitched as his warm breath fluttered across her skin, and chills rolled down her spine at the first brush of contact. His tongue seemed impossibly hot against her flushed body, but the moisture from his mouth cooled the patch of skin he targeted. Goose bumps erupted across her arms and shoulders, and he sprinkled a pinch of salt across her neck. She wanted to watch him, but her eyes fluttered shut as soon as he touched her again. It might have just been her imagination, but she thought he lapped her skin more than necessary.

Spencer downed the shot quickly, then his mouth covered the citrus. He barely bit into the fruit before pulling away. She didn’t have a chance to realize his intentions before he plucked the citrus from her lips and replaced it with his mouth. She parted her lips and the mingled flavor of lime and tequila exploded along her taste buds. The trace of alcohol remaining on his tongue was more intoxicating than both of the shots she drank, and Rebecca clutched at his shirt as his tongue slid against hers.

It was hardly her first kiss, but for the effect he had on her, it might as well have been. She tightened her grip on his shirt to quell the sudden shaking in her hands, and her lips tingled. It might have been the tequila, but Rebecca doubted it. This was all Spencer. God, if kissing him felt like this…

His hand slid beneath her hair to cradle the back of her neck. Any further need to debate vanished with the callused tips of his fingers massaging her skin.

Spencer cupped her breast with his other hand, his fingers brushing against her n****e. It hardened immediately beneath his touch, and she arched her back, pushing for more contact. They broke apart at the same time to gasp for breath, and he used the opportunity to pull her onto his lap. She straddled him, the bulge in his pants pressing against her inner-thigh, and they hungrily sought out each other’s mouths again.