Sweet Melody (Rock & Rodeo Romance #1) by Jaye Ripley Page A

my words. “Melody, if I ever get a hold of you like that, you can be sure I’m never letting you go.”
    All playfulness vanishes. His serious tone doesn’t match my obvious joke. No matter what the night promises, and as much as he turns me on, perhaps none of it’s worth the effort.
    Or maybe he is. And that scares me shitless.
    He scrapes his short whiskers against my neck, the bristled roughness meant to get me out of my head and bring me back to the here and now.
    “Okay, okay. Not Vegas. Well, based on my superhero powers heightened by my newfound inability to see, I’ll take a wild guess you’ve got me somewhere on the beach. Secluded, I hope.”
    His body relaxes, and he pulls me into him again, fluttering light kisses over my neck, shoulders, and every other naked place he can reach.
    The night air carries enough moisture in it to cling like a light film on my skin. The temperature at this time of year is perfect, where summer’s just around the corner so it’s still a bit cool at night. A soft breeze blows salt air in our direction, and the sound of the waves crashing washes over us like background music.
    “Mm-hmm.” His left hand strokes my back. Even the light pressure of his fingers burns my flesh. My body leans into his touch, giving into the blaze that the calloused tips of his fingers leave in their wake.
    “I heard you drop the tailgate.” I cling to the coherent sentence amidst the sensual assault to my body. “How appropriate. A tailgate down for the lead singer of Tailgate Down. Bet you do this to all your screaming girly fans.” My joke does nothing to calm down my nerves.
    Hunter bites my neck with enough force. “First, let’s get some things straight. I don’t have girls plural. I haven’t had a girlfriend in a while, and something tells me you haven’t had a boyfriend in a while.”
    His assumption sends my mind temporarily back to Trey, wondering what the two of them had talked about. Not wanting to go into specifics, I shake my head no.
    “Second, I’m improvising here tonight. I didn’t plan any of this, although I can’t say that what I already have with me might not prove useful.” His tone turns thoughtful.
    Consider my interest kindled. “So now that you’ve got me where you want me, what are you going to do with me?”
    Hunter’s breath hitches as his hands roam over my body, touching and teasing, caressing and rubbing. His control of not devouring me both impresses and frustrates me.
    “I don’t have you anywhere near where I want you,” his hungry voice rasps in my ear.
    With quick movement, Hunter’s strong arms scoop under my legs until he cradles me in his arms. He places me down on something hard, although soft fabric cushions the ridges underneath me. My legs swing off the end. His hands rake down my body in slow deliberate strokes, massaging away any sense of control I have left. His sensual touch travels down my left leg.
    “So fucking sexy,” he mutters.
    With a couple of yanks, he pulls off the boot. My right foot and leg get the same treatment, except when the boot comes off, he plants a kiss on the arch of my foot. His fingers and lips follow my leg up until he brushes my inner thigh with his stubble. I shift back and forth to bring him closer to that burning part of me.
    He stops. “Stay still, bad girl. My show right now, not yours.”
    “I thought you liked to share the spotlight,” I tease.
    Hunter’s teeth nip further up my thigh so close to where I want him that I can feel his hot breath blow across my apex. His head lingers a little too far away before he moans and moves away. I have to squeeze my legs together to ease the ache.
    He makes random noises around me, but nothing enough for me to make a guess. When he puts a hand on my knee, I calm down a bit. He leans into me and checks on the tightness of the bandana. The smell of soap and his flesh invades me. My hand reaches out to touch him, and he chuckles.
    “You’re horrible at