Breaking Leather: Lone Star Lovers, Book 4 (12 page)

Judah felt his heart lurch back into motion as her gaze released him, the sudden rush of blood making his head spin.

Annie Parsons. If she’d changed at all in twenty years, he couldn’t see it. Oh sure, there were a few wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, and the lustrous brown hair which her mother had always kept neatly trimmed now hung in a careless shag cut he wasn’t sure he liked. Unthinkingly, he started to reach out and brush the dust from her hair—then Judah stopped himself, fisting his hand at his side.

What in hell did he think he was doing?

Gritting his jaw, he jerked his chin at the hillside. “Came over to see what spooked the livestock. What are you doing here, Annie?”

She gave him a quick, almost guilty sidelong glance, then shrugged, her gaze tracing the low, weathered hills. “I just…wanted to see how you were, I guess. I’m sorry I panicked. When I saw the house…”

He nodded to himself. He knew that panic. It had flared in his own gut the day she’d disappeared, making him push past her crying mother and storm up the stairs, determined to see for himself.

Her abandoned room, her empty closet, had hit him like a hard punch straight to the stomach. Even now, the memory could still rock him if he wasn’t careful.

“It just got to be too much to keep up, after Dad died.” His terse explanation didn’t begin to carry the weight of grief of those days, the way everything had seemed to fall apart all at once. Even her parents had moved away shortly thereafter.

But Annie must’ve caught an echo of his emotion anyway—she looked at him, soft concern showing in her hazel eyes. “When did it happen?”

It was his turn to shrug, looking out over the pastures. “Fifteen years ago.”
Five years after you left. Where did you go, Annie?
He kicked at a clump of dried leaves clotting the porch, making them rustle. “It’s amazing how quick things go to pieces out here.”

She was still watching him, her gaze seeming to cut straight through the wall he was trying so hard to keep between them. The warm compassion in her eyes stroked him in a way that both angered and soothed him.

Damn it, Annie, stop looking at me like that.

“I’m sorry, Judah.”

“Yeah, well…” He nodded briefly, pushing away her sympathy. “Ma’s doing all right. She’s sixty-three now, can you believe it? Sixty-three and still gets up at five a.m. to feed the chickens.”

“And Tommy? How is he?”

Judah froze at the question. Annie’s eyes were wide, direct, the concern shading their hazel depths not only for him now. Her voice was so gentle, damn it, asking about Tommy. As if she still loved him. As if she still cared.

Anger flared inside him, along with the old, twisted jealousy. If she’d ever truly loved Tommy, if she’d cared about him at all, she would never have let Judah kiss her beneath the bleachers. Never would have let him touch her as he’d dreamed of doing. Never would have run to his arms in the night…

Judah cleared his throat. Against his will, his gaze flicked downward, tracing the line of her thighs through her faded jeans. “He’s all right. He’s in Washington these days. Bought a farm there. He’s married now.” He watched Annie closely, wanting to see her reaction.

If his words surprised her, she hid it well. “That’s great. When was this?”

“Seven, eight years ago. Something like that. He’s got kids,” Judah elaborated. “Two boys and a girl.”

Something flickered briefly in her eyes, but she only smiled. “That makes you an uncle. Congratulations.”

“Yeah, I guess it does.” He cleared his throat again.

“And you?” she asked. “How about you?”

Her eyes were too soft. Too warm. Too lovely. Judah shifted uncomfortably and pushed back his Stetson. “Me? I’ll never leave Montana.” He snorted. “You know me.”

“Do I?”

Two words, one little question, and suddenly it seemed like there wasn’t enough air for his lungs. Never mind the vast blue sky above them, or the miles of open, rolling hills all around. Judah moved closer, his voice dropping half an octave. “I’ll always be here, Annie. You know that.”

Her gaze rose to meet his, full of shadows. Maybe longing. Something thrummed in the air between them, and Judah stepped away quickly.

Christ, what was he
doing
?

“So, how long you in town for?” He leaned against the porch railing, absently noting the flaking paint.
Ought to do something about that
, he thought, then:
Why bother? It’s not like it matters.

But it still broke his heart.

Annie shrugged. “Just overnight, really. I booked a room at the boarding house.”

He nodded. “You drive out here?”

“Yeah. I parked up on the ridge. I…I didn’t want anyone to see me.”

Which was probably smart, Judah admitted. Even thoughtful. Maybe Annie had changed, if only a little.

Suddenly, he wasn’t so happy with the idea.

Then he pictured her sliding pell-mell down the slope, sending dirt flying and scaring the cattle half to pieces. He had to fight to suppress a smile. Yeah, that was the Annie he remembered, all right.

“Well, come on,” he said, straightening. “I’ll give you a lift.”

She was silent as he drove down the long, dusty ranch road, hopping out without his asking to open the livestock gate at the far end. Her hair hung in her face, and in the afternoon light she looked as slim and nimble as she had at seventeen. She grinned at him as she climbed back into the truck. “Thought I forgot that, didn’t you?”

Judah merely grunted and turned onto Route 32.

But as they rattled up the dirt track running up to the ridge, he heard himself saying, “If you’re bored tonight, go on down to the pool hall. They put in a dance floor,” he added awkwardly.
Shut up, Judah!

“Are you going to be there?”

“Dunno. I doubt it.”

Hell no, Judah, and what in hell are you thinking?

“Well, maybe I’ll think about it, then,” she answered. “Thanks for the lift. And say hi to your mom for me. I miss her.” Opening the door, she hesitated. “It’s good to see you, Judah.”

He didn’t answer, and after a moment she climbed out. He waited as she walked to what looked like a brand-new Buick, started it up and backed it around. Her eyes met his once through the windshield, and she waved as she drove past.

He didn’t wave back.

Judah watched in the rearview mirror until the Buick was out of sight. He wasn’t going to the pool hall. It had taken too many years for the hole in his chest to stop aching constantly. Too many sleepless nights wondering where she was, how she was. Wondering if she was all right.

She was fine, and that was enough. He didn’t need to know more than that. He didn’t
want
to know more.

And he sure as hell didn’t want her getting anywhere near Tommy.

The decadence of Bourbon Street is beckoning…

French Quarter

© 2010 Lacey Alexander

Hot in the City, Book 1

When prim, proper Liz Marsh suspects her fiancé is cheating on her, she’s almost too embarrassed to hire a P.I. to prove it. And when she gathers her courage and walks into Jack Wade’s office, she has no idea he’ll be the sexiest man she’s ever encountered, nor that his light Cajun accent will make her tingle in all the wrong—or is that right?—places.

After Jack brings her questionable yet undeniably arousing evidence, the only solution is for Liz to get a closer look with her own eyes. And Jack is more than happy to show her everything she’s been missing. One night in the French Quarter’s entrancing red light district, and Liz finds herself caught up in the provocative allure of an erotic new atmosphere and the sudden, urgent need to experience it for herself—with Jack.

Jack’s normally a keep-it-casual guy, but as nights with Liz get hotter, so do Jack’s feelings for the seductive woman in his arms. Bourbon Street decadence beckons and Liz embarks on a sizzling journey of sexual awakening that has her more willing to shed her inhibitions minute by carnal minute. But someone else has noticed her insatiable appetite for sensual adventure, someone who’s just beginning to realize what he’s lost—and who’s determined to tear Jack and Liz apart…

Warning: Contains sizzling hot sex any way she wants it—and a man (or two) more than willing to show her the ropes. Let the good times roll, baby!

Enjoy the following excerpt for
French Quarter:

“Tell me about a lap dance,” she said to Jack. Suddenly, she no longer cared if she didn’t appear experienced. Perhaps, she thought, because she also suddenly wanted to change all that, wanted to
get
experienced.

“What do you want to know?”

“How much does it cost? How does it work? Is there touching involved?”

He looked taken aback, aroused, before explaining. “You have to ask the stripper how much it costs—usually twenty dollars or so. You pay the girl, then she straddles you and dances. You can’t touch, but
she
can touch
you
. They generally
don’t
, but they can.”

Jack pointed to a nearby table where a young guy was getting a lap dance from a pretty girl with round, sexy breasts and long brown hair—she looked particularly impassioned by her work.

Together, she and Jack watched and Liz could have sworn her body temperature was steadily rising. The gorgeous stripper leaned down over the guy, teasing him, her beaded pink nipples so close to his mouth that Liz wondered how he kept himself from nibbling on them. The stripper’s hips ground into the guy’s crotch, making the spot between Liz’s thighs tingle hotly.

“Have you had them before?” she asked, still studying the intimate act.

Jack stopped watching the lap dance to look at her. She pulled her gaze from the stripper and met his eyes. “Yeah,” he said on a heated breath. “Why?”

“Just curious.” She took a sip of her drink and looked back at him, feeling daring, wanting—for once in her life—to just do something she felt like doing without weighing it, questioning it, or worrying about it. “Do women ever get them?”

His gaze remained steady. “I’ve seen women get ’em on occasion.”

“I want one,” she said, her voice low.

She could tell she’d surprised him once more; herself, too.

“Really?”

She nodded. Before now, she’d never desired another woman, but sitting here watching them had excited her, made her wonder what it felt like to touch or be touched by another girl, as Lynda had. Of course, Jack had just told her
she
couldn’t touch them, but she simply wanted to do as Lynda had suggested and follow her urges, and her urge at the moment was to have a woman’s curves hovering over and around her. More than that, her urge was to have Jack watch.

Jack’s voice came even lower and huskier. “Did you have a particular girl in mind?”

“Her,” Liz said, pointing to the same brunette they’d been watching give a dance at the next table. She looked at him. “Can you arrange it?”

He nodded.

Jack couldn’t believe Liz wanted a lap dance. Her voice was so breathy asking him about it, her full lips so pouty and kissable, her eyes so wild with curious passion. As he rose to approach the same hot brunette he’d been aroused by the other night, his cock stood so stiff it was almost painful.

As the stripper finished working over the younger guy, rising off him and accepting her tip, she turned to where Jack stood waiting. “How much?” he asked.

“Is it for you?” she inquired and her eyes told him she wanted him to say yes.

“Afraid not.” He pointed toward Liz, gaze focused on the main stage now, where a stripper circled her pole in a Britney Spears schoolgirl outfit. “It’s for my…girlfriend.”

The brunette offered a small smile that made him think she wasn’t disappointed, after all, and that she liked doing women as well as men. “Twenty.”

He handed her the money and added, “By the way, she’s kind of…a virgin at this.”

The stripper flicked pretty deep brown eyes from Liz to him. “Your idea or hers?”

“Hers.”

Her smile widened. “Good.”

Together, they returned to the booth where Liz waited. Before taking a seat beside her, Jack pulled the small round table back so the dancer could reach Liz.

The stripper looked at Liz like Liz usually looked at him—her eyes brimming with desire. “Hi, my name’s Felicia.” Her voice was as smooth as silk.

Liz’s eyes dripped with sensuality and a hint of uncertainty. “Hi.” Her nipples jutted hot and pretty through the slick fabric of her dress.

A new song began, and without further ado, Felicia placed one knee on the seat of the plush burgundy booth next to Liz’s hip before straddling her completely. “Just relax and enjoy,” she said to Liz, who sank a little deeper into her seat as Felicia began to move.

Wearing only her requisite flesh-colored g-string and another sexy pair of fuck-me heels, she began to grind her pussy in hot, tight circles just an inch or so away from Liz’s. She caressed her big, beautiful breasts while Jack and Liz both watched. She tweaked her nipples and swayed them over Liz until they brushed against her chest. Liz let out a small gasp of pleasure and it was all Jack could do not to take his cock in his hand. Like most guys, nothing aroused him quite like the sight of two girls getting it on, and he thought he’d never seen anything so lush and sensual as the dance taking place next to him.

Felicia wore a dirty little smile, clearly pleased she was having the desired effect on both of them. Jiggling her bare breasts against Liz’s once more, the stripper lowered her pussy directly onto Liz’s and began to grind. Oh yeah, he’d been right—Felicia liked doing girls. Her gyrations were hot and slow and sexy as hell, and Liz was beginning to grind back. While they rubbed themselves together, Liz’s eyes roamed Felicia—from her face to her breasts to the bit of fabric stretched over her cunt where it pressed into Liz’s crotch. He barely noticed when other guys in the vicinity began to watch, too—he couldn’t have torn his eyes from the two women if his life had depended on it.

The grinding of pussies through fabric continued and Felicia now rubbed her tits flush against Liz’s, all while simulating a dance. Liz looked drunk with passion, and when Felicia rose to a full sitting position—their crotches still pressed tight together—and began to squeeze and caress her bare breasts, Liz murmured, “Mmm, yes.” That’s when Felicia lowered her hands to
Liz’s
lovely globes, kneading them as she swayed and moved. Liz let out a ragged sigh and looked down, watching Felicia mold her soft flesh through the dress. Jack could have sworn her nipples popped out a little more and that she worked her hips harder against the stripper’s.