Rock Chick Rescue (Rock Chick #2)(73)
Author: Kristen Ashley

I threw a shot out in the dark, “Eddie, I’m tired.

Exhausted. Long nights, you know?”

He pul ed his tee off and threw it in the direction of mine.

I sucked in breath.

He had a great chest, what could I say?

“Don’t worry, Chiquita, I’l do al the work.” Eek!

He undid the belt at my jeans and shoved me back so I fel on the bed. It was gentle but it was also macho and I felt my heart begin to pound as my doo-da quivered.

His hands went to his belt, I heard the clink as it came undone and he began to work on the buttons of his jeans. I rol ed and started to crawl across the bed.

“I’ve changed my mind, I think I want to see the end of the game,” I lied, beginning to panic.

“Hang on there, Chiquita,” he said and caught my calves and pul ed me back, whipping me over. Then, before I could protest, he was on me, his mouth on mine and Al y, Indy, Daisy and our plans for the evening flew right out of my head.

He unzipped my jeans, stil kissing me and his hand went inside, between my legs. I pressed against him and slid my hands into his jeans at the back, holding on to his world-class behind. He had the best behind, or, at least, the best I’d ever had.

His fingers pushed in deeper, I bucked against his hand, breathing heavy against his mouth and, al of a sudden, his finger slid inside me.

The oxygen started burning in my lungs.

“Dear Lord,” I breathed, my lips against his.

“You wanna tel me what’s goin’ on tonight?” he asked.

My eyes were closed. At his question, they flew open and I looked in his. They were liquid but they were determined and I knew he’d total y figured me out.

Shit and damn.

I told the truth.

“No.”

His finger moved. It felt nice.

I bit my lip.

“I need to cuff you to the bed?” he asked.

“No,” I whispered, though he probably did.

His finger moved out and then back in. That felt so nice it was off the scales nice.

“You and Indy plannin’ on doing something stupid?” I pressed my face into his neck and touched my tongue there, partial y to buy time but mainly because I wanted to.

I stuck with honesty, I was too turned on to try anything else.

“Maybe,” I said.

His finger went away but only to go and do a swirl somewhere better.

“Am I gonna be able to talk you out of it?” he asked.

One of my hands went from his ass to his crotch. He was hard. I took this as a promising sign.

“Probably not.”

The promise didn’t pan out, he pul ed his h*ps and his hand from me and he started to move away.

Um, no.

No, no and definitely no.

I rol ed with him, pushed him back at his shoulders and got on top, straddling him. He knifed up and nearly dislodged me but I held on tight. He was sitting on the edge of the bed and I was sitting astride his lap. I looked down at him and I could tel he was pissed.

I felt my heart squeeze.

I knew I had to do something about his anger, not only because I needed Eddie to finish what he started but also because I really didn’t like the idea that he was pissed at me.

I didn’t know what to do so I decided just to ask.

“I have to do this and I want you to understand,” I whispered, “Please, don’t be mad at me.”

Then I went for broke, put my hands on either side of his face, bent my head and kissed him. I think it was the first time I’d ful -on kissed him, without it being in the heat of passion (wel , okay, there was heat) but more simply just to kiss him.

The kiss was a good idea.

After a beat, his arms came around me, one hand went into my jeans at my bottom, the other one undid my bra. He slid it off my shoulders, pressed into the middle of my back, broke from my kiss and took my nipple in his mouth.

It felt so good, my back arched and my fingers slid into his hair.

He cupped my other breast and tilted his head back to look up at me.

“How much time do we have?”

His eyes weren’t pissed off anymore and I smiled at him.

Because I was happy, because he was a good guy and because I was going to get some.

“Al y’s knocking on the door at ten, then I’m supposed to climb out the window.”

He shook his head at our stupidity, flipped me onto my back, pul ed my jeans down my legs and tossed them aside.

I felt like jumping for joy, but that would require me getting up and there was no way in hel I was going to do that.

“When I’m done with you, you can cal Indy and tel her to come to the front door with Al y.”

To show my appreciation, I ran my tongue up his jaw and at his ear I said, “Thanks Eddie.”

“I’m sure you can find more creative ways to show your gratitude.”

Dear Lord.

I pushed off with my foot and rol ed him on to his back.

My hair fel around us when I lifted my head.

My hair fel around us when I lifted my head.

“I can do that,” I told him and I was pretty certain I could, or at the very least, I could try.

I started to work my way down his chest.

“You better be here in the morning,” he said when my mouth was at his abs.

I ran my tongue along the waistband of his jeans and he ran a hand through my hair.

“I’l make the coffee,” I promised.

“I don’t give a shit about coffee, I’m thinkin’ about the shower.”

Chapter Eighteen

Poker and Stun Guns

We got ready at Al y’s and upon arrival I found that Indy recruited Tod and Stevie for the dress-up portion of the evening.

I walked in the front door and without saying a word of greeting, Tod looked me up and down and said, “I’ve got just the thing.”

Then he rifled through a bunch of dresses, tossing aside shoes and whisking away feather boas and then he threw what appeared to be a swatch of navy blue material at me. I caught it and shook out the dress. It was tiny, stretchy, had spaghetti straps and was stitched with a bazil ion little blue plastic disks.

“Shoes!” Tod shouted, snapping his fingers at Stevie who gave Tod a glare that had to be in contention for The Glare of Al Time, such was its magnificence. Stil throwing The Glare, Stevie came forward with matching slingbacks that had a pencil-thin heel, a scary-pointed toe and a row of the same blue plastic disks that were on the dress were stitched across the toe.

“Tod found the shoes first, then he made the dress,” Stevie told me.

“I can’t wear this dress,” I whispered to Stevie, “It’s been made for a smal child.”