Saddled and Spurred by James Lorelei

Author:James, Lorelei
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Penguin Group, Inc.
Published: 2011-02-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

They’d been lovers a couple of weeks.

A couple of very incredible weeks that’d flowed from day to night and back to day. Every moment with Harper was filled with passion that threatened to rob him of sanity.

This lust should’ve cooled.

But it hadn’t. Not even fucking close.

Today seemed particularly bad. Every time Bran thought he had a handle on the urge to bend her over the tailgate and fuck her senseless, she’d make a sexy noise or look at him from beneath those incredibly long eyelashes, blowing his good intentions.

It’d gotten to the point he didn’t dare look at her, because if she licked her lips one more time he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions. In the last hour, his overpowering need for her had shattered his focus and he hadn’t heard a single word tumbling out of her mouth. He couldn’t see beyond his mental image of her wrapping those lush, wet, pink lips around the base of his aching cock and sucking him dry.

And it was barely noon. The workday wasn’t over. Which meant hands off until the proverbial whistle blew.

He backed the truck up to the big barn door and practically threw himself out. He blew into the barn, bypassing the stalls and the tack room until he hit the back section with its stockpile of miscellaneous machine parts. He had to do something to make himself look busy. A complicated, manly, mechanical something. He unzipped his Carhartt coat and tossed it to the ground. Since when had it gotten so goddamn hot in here?

“Bran?” Her melodic voice echoed from the doorway.

Screw it. Literally. He had coffee cans of screws to sort. A mindless activity with no purpose—but Harper wouldn’t know that. He dumped the screws on the wooden bench. For the first time ever, he thanked his grandfather for hoarding useless shit.

When he got a whiff of her perfume, or whatever the hell that damnably appealing scented part of her was, he withheld a snarl. And his directive for her to go away or get on her knees.

Either way would relieve him. But he certainly preferred one way over the other.

“Why are you mad at me?” she asked.

He glowered. “I’m not mad.”

“Okay. Then what did I do wrong?”

“Nothin’.”

“Then why are you being—”

“I’m not bein’ anything. Go home, Harper. We’re done.”

“Since when? You told me we had a pile to do today and you’re sending me home?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t want to go home.”

“Tough shit. You’re off the clock.”

Yeah. Be an asshole to her. That’ll get her to leave.

Harper shifted her stance. Her feet scuffled against the dirt floor. The sounds should’ve indicated she’d left. But Bran knew she was still there. Waiting. Why in the hell was he attuned to her every breath? He squeezed his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and counted to twenty as he sorted screws.

He was so busy counting and ignoring his goddamn erection that he didn’t feel her tugging on his sleeve until she was right in front of him.

Sweet Jesus. She was fucking breathtaking.

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