Sassy Blonde - Stacey Kennedy Page 0,80

course, Megan didn’t allow sexual intercourse to happen in her bar, but she was smart enough to know sex sells. And apparently at Kinky Spurs it sold, since for the three weeks that Emma had been there, the place had been packed.

When Megan finally reached the stage, standing by the mechanical bull, she waved Emma forward. Ducking under the bar, Emma made it onto the stage just as Megan lifted the microphone to her mouth. “We all know why you came to the Spurs, and it wasn’t just for the beer and our famous chicken wings . . .” she announced. “Rope ’Em Up is about to begin.” The crowd went wild, inching their way closer to the stage until they all gathered in front of Megan. She lifted her hand, quieting them down before she continued, “Will the contestants please join me on stage?”

Emma’s cheeks began to burn almost as if she had a low-grade fever, but the heat wasn’t due to sickness or because of the three couples joining her on stage. The feverish sweat forming along her flesh was because Sexy Eyes had jumped onto the stage. Each step he took toward her seemed to make the air thicker, charged by something so powerful that she couldn’t control. Those captivating eyes were on her, that killer smile back, warming her in places she simply shouldn’t be heating up in front of an audience.

He stopped a few feet away from her and grabbed the rope on the stage waiting for him. When his head lifted again, he winked. Dear Lord. Emma almost reached for the hem of her panties to make sure they stayed in place.

Before she could get a handle on herself, Megan called, “Cowboys, rope your ladies.”

Everything right then and there melted away. All she saw was him, and the cowboy’s hands working the rope expertly into a lasso. There was something uniquely sensual about the way he handled the rope. Would he handle her body with the same careful regard? God, she wanted to find out. Her heart skipped a beat or two when his eyes lifted to hers again, and that half smile weakened her knees. That’s when his brows furrowed, his wise eyes narrowing on his target. Her.

Not a second later, he tossed the rope in her direction. She gasped as the soft rope slid oh-so-perfectly along her bare arms. Another gasp ripped from her throat when he jerked the rope, causing the lasso to tighten. Something changed in his expression then. Something that pulled them together with uncontrollable force.

He approached with long, unhurried strides, tugging her forward at the same time. She seemed to get closer to him in the blink of an eye. In that instant, she became a woman she didn’t recognize. A woman who hungered for a man so intensely that she was aware of his every move, every breath, and hell, even the strength he seemed to project out into the world.

She had one second to stare into the heat in his eyes before he used the rope to spin her around. His spicy, woodsy cologne whirled around her, and it was all she could do to fight against the desire to press herself against the hard planes of his tall, muscular physique.

“Put your wrists together for me, sweetheart,” he murmured, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

She shivered and obliged him. Not once had he touched her, and she wondered if that was because he was a gentleman or because he didn’t trust himself, in the same way she currently didn’t trust herself.

One loop slid over her left wrist, and her eyes fluttered shut as heat flooded her, a foreign sense of desire swelling inside. When another loop drifted over her right wrist, warmth pooled in her belly, slowly growing hotter each time he tightened the rope. Her chest lifted and fell quickly, and as he stroked the inside of her wrist, an uncontrollable moan spilled from her mouth.

His low chuckle sizzled over her. “What’s your name, darlin’?” he asked.

Her breath hitched and she trembled, knowing he’d likely heard and felt both. “Emma,” she replied.

“Well, Emma, I’m Shep Blackshaw, and you better stop doing what you’re doing.” His voice lowered, thick and rumbly, as he stepped a little closer, pressing his erection against her bottom. “Or I’m about to do something very inappropriate in front of a crowd.”

Surely that warning should’ve broken the spell he cast over her. It didn’t. The low tenor of his voice held promise of a night she’d never forget. Instead of answering him, and on total instinct, she shivered again, as his startling power washed over her.

Desperate not to make a complete ass out of herself on the third week of her new job, she stared straight ahead, afraid if she opened her mouth, she’d beg him to touch her right in front of everyone. He finished the binding and gave a final tug, showing her how locked in she was. He held the rope between the cuffs he’d made as if he owned her.

She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. From head to toe, she flushed with an unnatural heat, her limbs trembled with need, begging him to make this game real. His finger slid along the inside of her wrist, and again, a moan broke free.

Oh, how that touch would feel sliding between her thighs. She pressed herself against his cock and wiggled a little bit, inviting him to do whatever he wanted.

His warm breath tickled her ear when he groaned. “No matter how tempting it is to keep you like this a little longer and make you moan a bit louder, I don’t like to lose.” Coldness spilled over her as his hands were gone. He threw them up in the air, declaring himself the winner.

Thunderous applause from the crowd broke the spell that he’d put her under. She snapped her eyes open, staring ahead at the drum set. Her panties were drenched.

In those seconds of reprieve without his touch, she inhaled and exhaled repeatedly, until her body and mind belonged to her again. When he began untying her, she felt more stable on her feet, the heat simmering on the surface instead of boiling over. Only then did she dare turn around, refusing to meet his eyes, fearful he’d see how turned on she was.

By the bar, behind the crowd gathered before the stage, she noticed one of the blonde bartenders and her new friend, Harper McKinney, fanning herself with a piece of paper. She mouthed the word, wow. Before Emma had a chance to respond, a firm finger pressed under her chin, lifting her gaze to meet silvery-blue power beneath his brown cowboy hat.

A smile teased Shep’s sculpted lips. “So, Emma, after that little show you just gave me,” he said, letting the rope hang from his hand like a promise he planned to keep. “I think there’s really only one thing that needs to be asked now, don’t you?”

“What’s that?” she barely managed.

He leaned in closer, bringing all that heat and man within centimeters of her, and he arched a single eyebrow. “Your place or mine?”