Dead of Winter (Battle of the Bulls #2) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,22
survivor. Look what you’re doing?” she said, resting her legs over his. “You used something awful that happened to you to make a career. Look where you got to.”
“A camper and a herd of misfits?”
She snorted. “No, silly. Number three bull shifter in the world. In the world, Dead. I don’t even follow rodeo, and I know how big a deal that is. I saw the line of people waiting to meet you tonight. The signs that fans held up in the stands. The attention on your social media, the interviews, the time on television because everyone is curious about you. You.” She poked him in the chest. “And not for the bad parts. You’re funny and charismatic and caring in a surprising way. I think you did pretty dang good for yourself.”
“You’re a natural cheerleader, aren’t you?” he asked.
“Yep. Screw your mom and screw that poison. You lived. Not only did you live, but you got yourself from that corpse of a kid to this.” She waved her hand at him. “With all the muscles.”
He chuckled. “You like the muscles.”
“I don’t hate the muscles.”
“You want to touch the muscles?”
She snickered and hugged his taut waist a little tighter. “I don’t mind touching the muscles.”
He held her closer. “This is kind of nice.”
“Snuggling?” she asked.
“Spending a night with a stranger and feeling so comfortable.”
“Because there’s no risk! No hearts get involved, and tomorrow I’ll just be some girl you talked to for a day at a rodeo one time. Some girl who worked your table and asked a lot of questions.”
“Mmm,” he rumbled. “Yeah, just some girl.” But his voice sounded off. “And I’ll be just a boy.”
“No, a moo cow shifter,” she joked.
“Bull shifter,” he growled, tickling her ribs suddenly.
Raven squealed and kicked her legs, tried to tickle him back but he’d grabbed her wrists.
She froze, and he froze, and there they sat, faces inches away from each other, her arms held, completely vulnerable as he searched her eyes. His had lightened to a vibrant green.
She was panting, wanting, terrified and excited and happy and hopeful all at once.
He leaned forward suddenly and pressed his lips to hers. One second, and it was done. He eased back in a rush and released her wrists from his iron grasp. One second was all it took for her lips to throb, her cheeks to heat, and her body to move closer on its own accord.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, but he stayed just inches away from her.
“No, you’re not,” she whispered back. And before he could say anything, she leaned forward and gently settled her lips on his. His mouth softened, and he pulled her legs more securely onto his lap. Then with his other hand, he cupped her neck.
She’d never felt more safe, more secure, than in this moment.
His lips plucked at hers, moved with hers and, God, he tasted good. His beard tickled her, but she got used to it fast. Touching it with her fingertips helped, and when she did, he moaned softly into her mouth and leaned into her more. Masculine, dominant man. His kiss stayed easy for a long time. Minutes? Hours? She didn’t know. She hadn’t a guess because time meant nothing in his arms. But the longer she was with him, the more his warmth seeped into her skin and she melted into him.
His lips left hers to kiss her cheek, down her jawline, her neck where he stayed, paying attention to her sensitive skin right over her tripping pulse. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned her head back to give him more room to tease.
With a soft grunt, he gripped her hips and pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling his hips. The size of his erection was intimidating, but oh so sexy all pressed against her, only separated from her by their clothes. Dead went back to kissing her neck, nipping, playfully biting. His tongue felt so good as it flicked out and touched her earlobe. He ran his hands slowly down her back, from her shoulder blades to her hips, and then cupped her ass. She rocked toward him.
Big hands. Strong hands.
“You like that?” he asked, squeezing her ass gently.
She eased back and nodded. Why did she feel so drunk right now? Or high? On life? He was doing something to her body. Intoxicating it with his touch, perhaps.
She liked his effect on her. It was terrifying to let a man have so much control, but maybe she was