Rode Hard, Put Up Wet Read Online Free PDF Page A

and the mouth of a truck driver.”
    Against her better judgment, Macie smiled. “I’ll admit that line was better.”
    “I ain’t usin’ a line on you.” Serious once again, he stared at her steadily. “What’s your name?”
    “What’s yours?” she countered.
    “Carter.”
    She mimicked his posture and cocked her head. “Interestin’.”
    “What?”
    “That you have the face of a Viking warrior and the name of a Georgia peanut farmer.”
    His enormous grin, with a side of deep-set dimples, nearly knocked her off her game.
    Damn. This Carter guy was trouble with a capital ‘T’.
    “You always such a smart-mouth?”
    She shrugged. “It’s a gift.”
    “Or a curse.” Still smiling, he leaned closer. “So, what is your name?”
    “Macie.”
    “Pretty. A little odd, a little flowery, but it fits you.”
    Macie frowned. “Was that an insult?”
    “Not at all. Anyway, Amazin’ Macie. You from around here?”
    “No.”
    “Just passin’ through?”
    “Yep.”
    “With who? By yourself? Or with your family?”
    “A little of both.”
    One dark blond brow winged up. “Meaning?”
    “I came here by myself, but I’m meeting my dad. Going where the road takes us.
    Looking for work and adventure.” Her brain urged her to walk away; her legs didn’t listen. “What about you? You from around here?”
    “Nope. I’m on a day trip. I live in Wyoming.”
    “Where you’re an artist.”
    “Yep.”
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    Rode Hard, Put Up Wet
    “What’s your area of study?” She held up her palm. “And if you say female nudes, I’m totally out of here.”
    A cagey grin curled his mouth, making him look oh-so-naughty. “I’ll tell you exactly what magic I can create with these hands if you let me buy you beer.”
    Hell yes. Then maybe you could give me a hands-on demonstration of your magical hands.
    No. Bad, bad idea, Macie.
    “I’ll pass.”
    “Whoa.” His strong grip around her forearm kept her from bolting. “Just one beer.
    It’ll give me a chance to explain why I chased…” A sound, half sigh/half groan rumbled from his chest. Then the blunt tip of his finger traced the outline of her face from her temple to her chin and down the curve of her throat. “Goddamn. You are stunning. I want to paint you like this. Fire and interest warring in your eyes.”
    “Carter—”
    “Say it again,” he growled. “I wanna hear my name on your sweet lips as I’m touchin’ them.” The rough pad of his thumb slowly swept her bottom lip. He stared into her eyes. “So soft. And warm. A perfect fit for mine.”
    The way he was looking at her made her feel like she’d suddenly developed a case of sunstroke. No man ever acted like he wanted to crawl inside her head, mark her soul his and claim her body as his own.
    You just met him. No one feels that. It’s a trick.
    “Carter—”
    “Say yes, Macie.”
    “Say yes to what?”
    “To everything I ask you.”
    Her stomach cartwheeled.
    “It sounds crazy, we just met, but I know you. I want…”
    “Want what, Picasso?” she murmured.
    “You’re playin’ with fire, askin’ me that question, darlin’.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “’Cause my very explicit answer would make you blush like a virgin and run screamin’ for the Black Hills.”

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    Lorelei James
    Everything surrounding them—sunlight, tinny music from the carnival, whoops from the grandstand, the sugary, greasy scent of fried Twinkies—faded into the background.
    Boldly, she said, “Try me.”
    Carter’s shaking fingers smoothed a flyaway hair from her cheek. “Oh, I’d try you.
    I’d test you. I see what your eyes are offerin’ me, and I’d take it all, without apology.”
    Totally out of your league with this man, Macie. Cut and run.
    “And then?”
    “Then I’d give that need, that passion, that obsession, that control, that lust—right back to you. Times ten.”
    Pure sexual heat overloaded her circuits. “Oh.”
    “Yeah,