Page 20 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
Slowly, I straighten, uncurling my spine one vertebra at a time before turning to face him.
And damn if the sight of him half undressed isn’t that much hotter right side up.
“Morning, lazy bones,” I drawl, trying not to seem affected by his presence, but my heart rate monitor beeps, alerting me to its escalating rhythm. I blame my breathlessness and erratic heartbeat on exercise.
Holt makes a choking sound. “Lazy? Me?” He laughs. “You’re the first person to ever accuse me of that.”
I trail my eyes over his body, my focus moving from the smooth planes of his chest muscles down to the rugged contour of his abs, all visible within the opening of his shirt. Flushing, Holt starts working on buttoning up, but in his haste he misbuttons.
“No need to hurry on my account, cowboy. I’ve seen this view before.” I lift one leg up behind me to stretch my quads. His eyebrows jump in surprise when I reach out to grab his shoulder. I can tell myself it’s for balance, but truthfully, I just want to touch him. Trailing my eyes over his body, I say, “Wasn’t a hardship then, definitely isn’t one now.”
The last sentence leaves my mouth without thinking. And by the way Holt’s gaze snaps to mine, I know he didn’t miss it.
I continue to look my fill, switching legs and hands, as Holt works on fixing his skewed button job. The act of him dressing is surely twice as erotic as any striptease I might’ve given him. He slides another button into its hole, his eyes never leaving mine.
Screw meditation. All I need is eye contact with Holt and the world falls away.
Everything heightens. The bunching of his muscles under the lightweight cotton shirt. My hardened nipples against the restricting spandex of my sports bra. The dark stubble on Holt’s tanned skin that moves as he clenches his jaw. The slow slide of a drop of sweat down my neck and into the V of cleavage. A drop whose progression Holt follows avidly with his whiskey colored eyes. A light caress from the wind tickling the back of my neck, making the end of my ponytail dance while I shiver.
“Yo, boss man. You ready to go?”
I release my hold on Holt and stumble back. Holt’s hand reaches out, grabbing my waist, steadying me. The feel of his large, rough hand on my bare skin burns hotter than the space shuttle’s solid rocket boosters and their three million pounds of thrust.
Looking over my shoulder, I see a tall, lanky,youngcowboy rounding the corner of the house.
“Oh. Uh, sorry, ma’am.” The man takes his straw hat off when he reaches the porch steps. “I didn’t know Holt had, uh, company.” Good thing for the kid he is even darker than Holt, because I’m pretty sure he’s blushing like a nun at Chippendales right about now.
Determined not to let anyone know just how affected I let myself become in Holt’s presence, I give a big smile to the boy and walk over to him.
Side note—the feel of Holt’s hand trailing down to my hip as I move away islovely.
“Nothing to be sorry about.” I offer the young guy my hand. “I’m Jules. Nice to meet you…?”
“Tucker, ma’am. Tucker Gibson.” His handshake is strong, his smile friendly. I like him already.
“Nice to meet you, Tucker.” I pull my hand back so I can wipe the back of it across my brow. “Sorry I’m all sweaty, just came back from a run.” I gesture behind him to the pastures. “It sure beats the hell out of a treadmill.”
Tucker just nods, not looking away from my body.
I smile at him, not at all skeeved out. He’s young, probably just out of high school. Probably couldn’t control his hormones if he tried. And besides, a little innocent appreciation is like milk. Does a body good.
Holt clears his throat, causing Tucker to jump and break his stare.
Then it’s my turn to jump when Holt steps up beside me and places his hand back at my waist. All proprietary like. I shiver again, and this time it has nothing to do with the breeze.
Possessiveness. Who knew I’d like me some of that?
“Tucker.” Holt nods at the kid. “I’ll meet you in the barn in a minute.”
Tucker nods back, dons his hat and leaves with a “ma’am” and a smile thrown in my direction.
Once the kid is out of sight I turn into Holt, suddenly very interested in seeing where else our hands might land on each other.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t do your thing around him,” he says, dropping his hand and jerking his head in the direction Tucker had gone.
I blink at his words. “My…thing?”
“You know, all the flirting and sexy stuff.” He waves his hand at my general person, his brows drawn in thought. “He’s a good kid, he doesn’t need that kind of distraction.”
