Emmett turns to glare at me, all that polite, sunny, farm boy bullshit persona melting right off him. “Beat it, Eaton.”
“Did you not hear me, Bush? I said not a fucking chance. I know your games. Play them somewhere else. Breathe on this girl the wrong way, and I’ll end you right here rather than just kicking your ass in the ring.”
His watery blue eyes narrow as he glares at me, jaw popping, shoulders drawn tight. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that he wants to hit me right now. I wish he would, so I could stomp on his stupid, shiny, predatory face.
It’s Summer who steps up now, that sexy smirk plastered on her full lips as she raises a hand to point at me. I know she’s trying to diffuse the situation, to keep me out of trouble, which is why I’m so surprised when she says, “Okay. Then you’re doing the shot.”
She doesn’t drop my gaze as she steps in front of Emmett. He’s behind her and the packed bar is beside us, but all I see is her.
Eyes twinkling, cheeks pink with exertion, dark hair loose and wild around her shoulders.
Summer puffs out her chest in my direction and my eyes drop to the swells of her breasts, the line of cleavage, and the vertical scar that traces up the center. “Put it in.”
I groan. She nibbles on her lip, aware of what she’s just said. So, I step closer, holding myself back from running my hands all over her, and lift the slender glass. Slowly, I press it between her soft breasts, trailing the pad of my ring finger over the rounded top of her flesh before tracing the line that goes up her entire chest. The scar that she doesn’t bother covering up because she’s so fucking strong. So brave.
I touch the raised skin, not caring how personal it feels to be doing this in public. Goosebumps erupt over her chest, and even over the blaring music, I can hear her quiet gasp. I feel the way her breath slides across my skin. It’s fucking distracting. It has my cock swelling in my jeans.
Her hand darts out, and she holds up a can of whipping cream with a challenging glint in her eye. We’ve been dancing around each other awkwardly since that day at the fence. We’ve barely talked, but now she’s looking at me like she wants to do an awful lot more than talk.
“In the mood for some dairy products, Rhett?” She shakes the can and before I can stop her, she sprays a line of it from the shot glass wedged between her tits right over the length of the scar.
It’s fucking pornographic. Or maybe it’s just been a while for me. Either way, I want to get her the hell out of here so I can bend her over and spank her perfect ass for putting Emmett’s hat on. Put her on her knees and shove my cock between those lips that have been taunting me for weeks now. Watch her eyes widen when I hit the back of her throat.
She stares up at me, whipped cream trailing up the middle of her chest, ending where her pronounced collarbones dip down and meet the soft spot at the base of her throat. “Or is that going to be too milky for you?”
I drop my head in her direction, blocking some of the onlookers out with the brim of my own hat. “You want me to lick whipped cream off you, Princess?”
Her tongue darts out, wetting her bottom lip as her eyes peruse my body in the hungriest way.
“Yeah. I think I do.”
I don’t need her to ask twice. I crouch low, pressing my tongue to her bare skin as her hands mold to my shoulders. My mouth slides over her sternum, and I don’t bother being polite about it either. I lick, I drag my teeth, and when I get to that soft dip, I suck at her skin before I press a gentle kiss against her.
Her fingers grasp my shirt, and her eyes are laser focused on me when I spare a glance up at her face.
I give her my best cocky, panty-melting smirk and dive back down between her breasts. One of her hands slides over the back of my neck, her fingers raking through my hair before taking hold. My lips wrap around the shot glass of something syrupy and sweet. Something I would never normally drink, but if Summer wants me to lick it off every square inch of her delectable body, I will happily spend hours obliging.
I stand tall and wrap an arm around her waist, tugging her against me as I tip my head back and down the shot.
I can feel her heart pounding against my ribs. She fits right under my arm, like that spot was meant for her.
“Okay, my turn.” Emmett tries to step in, but I turn Summer away under the shelter of my arm. The thought of letting her go now is almost unbearable. To him, to anyone.
Turn? This isn’t bowling, asshole. “I already told you. Not a fuckin’ chance.”
I hear him try to say something to Summer, but I’ve got her by the wrist and have a clear shot to the door.