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

staying still.” His fingers test the bandana. Satisfied, he moves out of reach, returning seconds later to place something next to me on the truck bed.
    Unable to touch him, my hands explore the softness of the blanket underneath me. “It’s certainly more than convenient that you have something to cushion my ass on this hard bed.”
    He grabs my legs and jerks me forward. I yelp, afraid of falling out of the back of the truck onto the ground. Soft sand or not, the thought of how it would hurt gets my heart racing. But as he’s proven all night, Hunter has me.
    “I should make you pay for saying that,” he says. His breath on my lips smells like mints. “But I love your smart mouth and what comes out of it.”
    He presses his lips to mine for a long minute, not doing anything more than making a connection. A sheen of sweat breaks over my skin from that small contact. He breaks away as my tongue slides out to lick his lips.
    “We need to make friends properly. I know you say you trust me, but let’s test that theory.”
    After a short beat, I accept the truth of my answer. “I do trust you. Promise. Bring it on, Cowboy.”
    “Then open your mouth.”
    Without hesitation, I open wide. Something sweet hits my tongue. He dangles it there but doesn’t place it completely in my mouth. My tongue touches and tastes it. Perhaps my licks linger a bit longer than necessary laced with small thoughtful, moans.
    “A cherry.”
    Hunter clears his throat. “Good guess. Open.”
    He places the fruit on my tongue, and I close my lips around it. The syrupy sweetness of the maraschino bursts in my mouth as my teeth sink into its soft flesh. I swallow the chewed fruit and work my tongue for a few seconds.
    “Ta-da,” I say, holding the knotted stem in my clenched teeth.
    “Talented girl.”
    My eyebrows wiggle, and I’m rewarded by his rumbling snicker.
    “Okay, how about tasting something else,” he says.
    “I’m game.”
    I hear the unscrewing of a cap. A distinctive smell of alcohol wafts to my nose as he lifts the bottle to my lips.
    “Open up and tip your head back a bit.”
    There are several alcohols that I never touch no matter the vintage or how expensive they are. I pray that, no matter what he pours into my mouth, it won’t end up spit all over his face. Not tequila, not tequila, not tequila , I chant in my head, concentrating on accepting and swallowing whatever he pours. The humor of that thought isn’t lost on me.
    “Hold still, woman,” Hunter commands, causing a few more giggles.
    He waits for me to stop, and I adopt the air of perfect obedience. A smooth edge of glass touches my lip. Room-temperature liquid flows into my mouth, enough for me to taste in a quick swish before swallowing. Bourbon. The good stuff.
    Hunter’s mouth attacks mine after I barely swallow. His tongue plunges inside. I can’t keep up with his wild abandon. His teeth nip and bite. The man takes what he wants from me, and I can’t refuse him. I don’t want to. Game over. Just fuck me.
    I reach up to pull him into me, but he grabs my hands and holds them on either side of me on the truck bed. The kiss is rough. It’s destructive, scraping the tender flesh of my lips and tearing down my walls of resistance. All too soon and before either of us have our fill, he stops and pulls away.
    My chest heaves. I breathe out and lick my lips. “Mmmm. Definitely the good stuff.”
    No answer but breaking waves. Where’d he go? The intense sexual tension in my body tells me he’s nearby. Maybe I have him as tangled up as he makes me.
    “You must have raided the bar before you left.”
    Hunter blows out a hard breath, mutters something under his breath, and chuckles. “You’re not the only bad one who can steal something from the club. I improvised a bit.”
    “If you were on my side of the R&R where I rule the bar, I’d have made you pay before you took any of my inventory.” My stern tone fools neither of us.
    “I’d have been