Leanne Banks - Trouble in High Heels

The fast song ended and a slow one began. Lori turned to face him and met his gaze for a long moment. Unspoken thoughts, desires, wishes, and fears flowed from her to him and back again. The next second, she moved against him and slid her arms behind his neck.

Jackson automatically wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her flush against him. He knew he was playing with fire, but she was making it all too easy. Breathing in the scent of her hair, he skimmed one of his hands up her back, under the curtain of her hair to the nape of her neck. He felt her shiver in response.

She lifted her head and nuzzled his neck. Her breasts were pressed against his chest, and when he slid his knee through her thighs, she opened for him.

Jackson felt his arousal roar through him like a fire out of control. He wanted to feel her naked breasts in his hands, against his skin, in his mouth. He wanted to feel her bare, silky thighs opening for him with no fabric or barriers between them. He wanted to slide inside her and appease the hard ache she caused. He wanted to fill her up so that the only thing she could think about was him.

In some last corner of his mind, his rational self reminded him that this could be just a dance for her. Just because she was rubbing herself against him like a sex kitten didn’t mean she wanted to go all the way. Especially with him. Maybe this was more about the three margaritas she’d drunk than him.

That last thought should have taken the teeth out of the gnawing, growling need that seemed to consume him. Maybe it would have, if she hadn’t stretched up on tiptoe and pressed her mouth against his.

Every muscle in Jackson ’s body tightened. How was he supposed to turn this down? She slid her tongue over his bottom lip and his heart stuttered in his chest. Mentally swearing, he felt like a dog pulling at chains. One seemed to rip free, and he devoured her mouth, plundering her, kissing her the way he wanted to take the rest of her.

Lori made him too aware of his sexual need. She’d done it from the very beginning, and at this moment with her so close to him, he felt as if he were on a steep cliff over the ocean. It wouldn’t take much to push him straight over the edge.

Jackson couldn’t deny or hide the rough, edgy want for her anymore. He needed her to see it and feel it so she would either back away or decide she wanted him. He pressed his hand against her lower back, so that she rubbed against his aching erection. He waited for her response, expecting her to pull back.

Instead, she undulated against him and slipped her tongue inside his mouth. Jackson thought he might explode right there on the dance floor. He sucked in a mind-clearing breath but inhaled her sultry scent along with the oxygen.

He lowered his mouth to her ear. “Sweetheart, if you don’t want to finish this in bed with me, then we’d better stop.”

She stopped and looked up at him, her eyes full of the same arousal that raged through him. He counted the seconds until she said something. One. Two. Three.

“I don’t want to stop,” she said. “Maybe we should head back to the limo.”

“I’m not going to ask again. Are you sure?”

“Yes,” she said without a heartbeat of hesitation.

Jackson immediately took her hand and led her out of the club. The night air was cool, but not cool enough to slow him down. With the limo parked just steps away, the driver spotted them walking toward him and he opened the door.

“The Bellagio,” he said to the driver and helped Lori into the back seat. He pushed the privacy panel closed, and before the driver pulled out of the parking lot, he pulled Lori onto his lap.

They kissed with feverish intensity. He slid his hands underneath her shirt, searching for her full breasts. She immediately followed his lead and tugged at the buttons of his shirt, skimming her hands over his chest. The sensation drove him crazy. It was all he could do not to rip off his jeans and hers and drive himself inside her. He had never felt this overwhelming need for a woman before. Never.

Swearing under his breath, he pulled back. “We’ll be at the resort in a few minutes,” he said for his benefit as much as hers. “Which room? Yours or mine?”

“I don’t care,” she said. “Just so it’s soon.”

Geoffrey woke up with another hard-on.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, rolling over and gingerly climbing out of the twin bed he’d slept in since he’d arrived at the ranch. He glanced down at his boxers and sighed. Lord help him, at this rate, he’d have a hard-on until he died. He scowled. Knowing his luck, his erection would last past his death. He could see it now. He’d be in his casket, cold and dead, with his penis still poking out, waiting, hoping for Maria to assuage his ache the way she did in his dreams.

He shouldn’t be thinking about her, he told himself as he pulled on a pair of jeans and headed down the hall to the shower. He was supposed to marry Lori. Lori was loaded. Lori was perfectly lovely, and Geoffrey had a special affection for her. Similar to the affection he had for his sister.

Scowling again, he turned on the shower and stripped off his clothes. For the three hundred and third time, he wondered what he was doing on this ranch. Yes, he knew his family needed money and he was expected to provide it. Yes, he knew that Lori was his best bet for achieving that goal, but it was still only a possibility.

Despite the uncertainty, he would be cleaning toilets today. Lori and Jackson were still out of town on business. In a different situation, he would feel offended that she hadn’t mentioned the trip to him. Instead, he felt relieved. If only he could find some relief from his obsession with Maria.

Hours later, after he’d completed cleaning duties and eaten lunch, Geoffrey wandered to the barn. He told himself he was just stretching his legs, but he wanted to catch a glimpse of Maria. He hadn’t seen her at all today.

He didn’t see any campers in the corral, so he suspected she might be in the barn or riding one of the horses. Walking into the dark, cool barn, he heard noise from the other end. The closer he walked, the more he made out her voice. Muttering in Spanish, she sounded displeased. He was relieved that for once her displeasure wasn’t directed at him.

He felt another surge of hunger burn through him. Everything about the woman oozed sensuality and womanliness, even her temper, God help him.

Rounding the corner to the tack room, he found her perched precariously on two boxes, struggling for a saddle out of reach. He watched her stand on tiptoe and shift her feet, which made the boxes shift.

Horror rushed through him, and he dove toward her to catch her. Too late. She cried out as she fell to the ground.

Geoffrey rushed to her side and searched her face. Her eyes were closed. His heart plummeted. “Oh, Maria. Darling, are you okay? Are you okay?”

She lay there on the floor as still as death. Terrified that she was seriously hurt, he gingerly touched her shoulder. “Maria. Maria, wake up.” He touched her face and lowered his ear to her lips, praying she was still breathing.

She was, but the fact that she was unconscious alarmed him more with each passing millisecond. He was so panicked he felt as if he were going to pass out. Geoffrey began to talk to himself. “Get yourself together. You’ve got to help her. She needs help.” He rose to his feet, reluctant to leave her. Should he pick her up? Should he-

Over his screaming loud panic, he heard a moan. He stared down at Maria. Had she made that sound, or had he? Biting his tongue, he listened and heard the sound again. Sinking beside her, he watched as her brow furrowed in pain.