Polished Slick (Natural Beauty) by Holley Trent Page A

screen.
    Yep. Still nothing going on at the barn.
    “You going to hang out for a while?” he asked. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go collapse onto an old mattress and count cyborg sheep.”
    “Yeah, just a little while. I know something’s going to happen. Feel it in my gut.”
    “Suit yourself. Wake me up if anything good happens.”
    “Sure.”
    He had one foot inside his bedroom when she called him back. “Hey, Jerry?”
    “Yeah?”
    “Can you show me how to work this recliner?” She fiddled with the handle on the side and put her hands up in a shrug. “I can’t get it to pop.”
    “Oh, it’s temperamental. You’ve got to shimmy while you pull. Let me show you.” He motioned for her to move, and she slipped off the end, finishing the crust of her pizza and wiping her hands clean on her shorts.
    He lowered himself into the warm space she’d occupied, and gave the handle a good yank while forcing the seat back toward the floor. Nearly horizontal, he said, “See?”
    “I think I can do that.”
    He eased the recliner into its upright position. “You try.” Standing, he held an arm toward the seat, which she sank into once again.
    She pulled at the handle, pushed her spine against the backrest, and groaned with effort. She shrugged at her failure. “Nope.”
    “Maybe you don’t weigh enough. Come here.”
    She popped up once more, and Jerry once again demonstrated the workings of the recliner. As soon as the back popped and he was nearly flat, she climbed up onto his lap, straddled his waist with her knees, and locked her lips onto his while he was still too stunned to react.
     

CHAPTER SEVEN
    “Trinity, what are…”
    “Shh!”
    She needed to concentrate. To do it right . She had to spend an equal amount of time on everything above the shoulders that needed attention.
    She’d started with his lips, and he’d been understandably confused, but hadn’t pushed her off, thank God.
    His lips were soft and salty, and when he parted them to let her in, his tongue was strong against hers, pushing hers aside so he could show her what a real kiss was.
    He’d closed his eyes, so she’d done the same. His tongue teased her lips and his teeth nipped her lips.
    The sensation was overwhelming, almost like a drowning, stupefying her to the point she barely remembered to draw in breaths.
    His thumbs stroked her cheeks gently as he sipped her lips, even as she insinuated her body even closer to his.
    She put her head back, inviting him to kiss her neck, and he did, and it unleashed some sort of mania in her that begged for more. More touch, more kisses, more everything. More Jerry.
    “God,” he whispered into the crook of her neck as his hands slipped down her back toward her waistband.
    Something in her subconscious mind jolted her awareness up to the surface, and she took note of a very distinct swell against the front of her shorts. She backed away from his lips, begrudgingly, and looked down.
    Her expression must have been quite telling, because his deep voice warned, “That’s the way it works. Take it as a compliment.”
    She nodded, still staring, although what she really wanted to do was get off his lap immediately and find a barrel of ice water to jump into.
    She was on Jerry Rouse’s lap for the second time in her life, and this time she was sober and happy to be there, but feeling like a slut for being happy.
    Was that the feminist thing now? Or would a feminist wrap her legs around the man’s waist and grind him into next week?
    Whatever. The feminists didn’t need to know.
    She lifted his T-shirt’s hem and forced it up to his nipples, only to pause to inspect the art on his chest.
    His expression was smug when she finally met his gaze.
    “Does my ink bother you?”
    She swallowed. “She’s naked. They’re all naked.”
    “Only from the waist up. Mermaids, you know?”
    “Fan of huge tits?” She crossed her arms over her small ones indignantly.
    He shrugged.
    “You know,