Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,24

them, singing about giving in to each other.

When the last few words came, much too soon, the cheering and whistling dragged him back down to earth. He rubbed the small of her back and kissed her on the cheek for the crowd…nah, for her. For himself. He took her microphone and handed it to the karaoke organizer and then guided her back to their table.

Dead was wiping his eyes.

“Are you crying?” Quickdraw asked, disgusted.

“That was so beautiful,” Dead said thickly.

“Awwww, babe,” Raven murmured, slipping into her mate’s lap. “Do you want to sing with me?”

Dead sniffed. “Can we sing the ‘Thong Song’?”

Raven looked all mushy and nodded her head, cupped his hairy face and said, “Of course, we can.”

Two Shots stared at Dead with the most tired expression Quickdraw had ever seen. “I need another drink.”

“I’ll buy it for you!” Dead yelled. “I’m buying. Here is my money.” He slapped a twenty on the table in front of Two Shots. “I’m buying.”

“You’re so fuckin’ weird,” Two Shots muttered as he grabbed the money and pulled Cheyenne by the hand toward the bar.

Annabelle was wearing that pretty smile again, and her cheeks were even pinker now. “That was so fun,” she whispered, leaning into him. “We really just did that. You really sang with me.”

Quickdraw chuckled and draped his arm around her shoulders. God, she smelled good. Warmth tingled up his arm from where his skin touched hers. Her tits pushed up against whatever black-lace bra she was wearing. The edge of the lace peeked out right at her cleavage.

“What are you thinking?” she asked.

“Nothing sweet. Thinking about pumping my dick into the crack between your tits until I come all over your throat.” He gripped the back of her hair and leaned in, whispered against her ear. “There’s nothing that would make me happier than watching my cum run down the sides of your neck. These boys in here can watch you all they want. They can think you’re a rare beauty, because you are. But I’m the one who gets to take you home and make you feel good. That’s what I’m thinking about.”

When he eased back, her eyes were round and her full lips were slightly open with shock, and then the naughtiest smile turned her lips up so slowly. “I wouldn’t say no to that.”

God, she was so sexy.

He could smell her want now, her desire. He bet he could have her screaming his name in ten strokes in the bathroom. But as much as he wanted to fuck her like some rutting animal, he also wanted more.

So he leaned in and kissed her on the lips, just a soft peck, instead of taking her in the bathroom, locking the door, pulling her panties down, and shoving his swollen cock deep inside her.

Because he was a gentleman.

For now.

Chapter Seven

Annabelle was high.

Now, she’d never actually been high because she’d made a promise to her parents when she was eight that she would never smoke anything and she’d stuck to it, but this had to be what being high felt like.

She was all floaty and happy, and none of the things she’d been worried about a few days ago mattered right now. Early dawn light cast the bedroom in gray hues, and she stretched her toes against the warm covers. She hadn’t slept that good in a month.

Rolling over in Quickdraw’s bed, Annabelle sniffed his pillow like the psychopath that she was and smiled sleepily. She sat up and craned her neck to the side, trying to see the couch where Quickdraw had slept last night, but all she could see through the open bedroom doorway was the small kitchen. He must’ve been sleeping in since he was so quiet.

Last night, he’d brought her here to grab her suitcase, then offered to take her to a hotel. And when she’d decided to stay in the RV, Quickdraw had given her his bedroom, no pressure for anything more, and no weirdness.

Now, one might think that was a rejection, but he’d cuddled her for a few minutes until she’d gotten tired, and then told her straight-up that he couldn’t wait to fuck her again when the time was right. Then he’d kissed her forehead, painstakingly tucked her into his soft gray comforter like a little burrito, and told her, “I really like you,” before he turned off the light and left the room.

That man didn’t leave any room for an imaginative girl like her to feed insecurities.

She really appreciated that about