What a Texas Girl Dreams (Crimson Romance) Read Online Free PDF Page A

one hot, writhing unit. Trick pushed his tongue between her lips, wanting to taste more of her.
    Their teeth clicked together and Monica chuckled. “God, I’ve missed you.”
    Trick pushed her against the side of the trailer. “Really? Because you didn’t even want a handshake ten seconds ago,” he said between kisses. He smelled coconut in her hair, bananas on her skin, and despite the overpowering aroma of cooped-up horse, the trailer was suddenly a tropical paradise.
    “You know the rules.” She panted and kissed her way along his jawline. He lifted her up by the hips until her legs were wrapped around his waist.
    Yeah, he knew the rules. No deep feelings, no firm commitments, no family involvement. They drove into Austin or San Antonio for dates, she stayed over at his place, and he was never invited to the Diamond for more than vet checks. On the occasional long weekend or during a break from the rodeo, he’d go to her place in Austin. Easy.
    Up until two weeks ago, it had been enough. Then he asked her to take a long weekend and she balked. Pride made him throw down the ultimatum that she stay. After seeing her in the ring with the bull, easy wasn’t nearly enough. He wanted more. He wanted to take her to dinner in town. Wanted to wake up with her wild hair spread over his pillows every morning. Wanted to come home to her every night.
    “This isn’t exactly the safest place in the world for hot, sweaty sex.”
    Monica pushed his hat off his head, dug her hands into his hair, and pulled his mouth fully against hers. She wound her legs more tightly around his waist as she trailed her fingers down his chest, opening first one button and then another of his western shirt. Trick’s vision clouded when her soft fingers grazed his chest.
    “We’re perfectly protected.” Kisses landed on his chest as she made her way down, down.
    This was so not the place for this. He wasn’t going to make love with Monica in the back of a horse trailer, no matter how hard up he felt right about now. She rocked against him and then trailed her tongue from his sternum to his collarbone. His hands pushed under her shirt, his fingers traced her ribs, and his thumbs sought out her nipples.
    They were hard, like the tiniest pebbles on the imaginary beach where everything smelled like Monica’s shampoo and soap. Her muscles twitched against his hands. She arched her back, pressing her core more firmly against his rock-hard erection. Trick’s toes curled against the hard soles of his boots.
    God, he wanted her. In the horse trailer. In the middle of the ranch yard. On a bed of silk. He needed Monica Witte like he needed air.
    And he couldn’t have her.
    Not here. Not now. Because any second, someone could walk by. The thought was arousing, but Trick pushed it away.
    He stood her back on her feet, took a single step back. “This isn’t a good idea.”
    “It’s the best one I’ve had today.”
    “We aren’t doing a trailer tango today. I don’t care if you strip naked and sing Faith Hill to me.” He pushed farther away, tucked the tails of his shirt back into his jeans, and grabbed his hat from the trailer floor.
    She scowled. “I’m not suggesting we drop down on the patio or have sex in the pool, Father Trickett.”
    “No, you’re suggesting we do the dance with no pants in the middle of your horse trailer, surrounded by horse shit, where anyone could walk by and blow your little secret sky high.”
    “We’re back to this again?”
    “We’ve never been far from it.” Trick slammed his hat down on his head. “I’ve been good enough to flirt with for the past year. Good enough to sleep with for the past seven weeks. Good enough to see a movie with or have the occasional sleepover. I’m not twelve. My mom doesn’t need to drive us to the Tasty Freeze for ice cream and your dad doesn’t need to pick us up after a church social.”
    “For the record, I know very well that you’re almost-thirty-year-old male