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Whitney stood to the side and observed as Wes shot round after round with his other pistol. When he pulled back the targets, they were covered in bullet holes, all in the exact center target.”Holy crap, you’re good,” she said as they walked back to his car.
“Lots of practice.”
“What else are you good at?” she asked, unable to deny the chemistry between them. They still hadn’t kissed and it was driving her mad. She wanted him. Desperately.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see.” He smirked, approaching the passenger door.
“You Mr. Rancourt, are a tease.”
He opened her door slightly, then closed it again. With a devilish grin, he pressed her into the harsh metal. Her body tingled as his fingers traced a line from her ear to her chin as he stepped closer, leaning down to graze her lips with his own. Taken slightly by surprise, since she’d expected him to tease her as he had the night before, Whitney was slow to react, but soon found herself wrapping her arms around the broad muscles of his back. She opened her mouth, allowing him to deepen the kiss. With a new sense of urgency, his tongue stroked hers, sending shots of electricity and desire to the tips of her toes. His hands moved to cup her cheeks and she dug her fingertips into his firm shoulders. Together they moved so that Whitney’s back was pressed to the passenger door of his car, with each stroke of Wes’ strong tongue, her ass pushed gently into the black finish until finally they came up for air.
“Tell me again what a tease I am,” he whispered, kissing her gently on the nose.
“Whoa.” It took every ounce of energy within her not to pant all over him. He was driving her wild.
“Worth the wait?” he whispered into her ear.
“Hell yes.” She smiled, placing her hands at the base of his neck.
“When can I see you again?”
“Do we have to go over this again?” Whitney tugged gingerly on his collar, pulling him in for another peck on the lips. “You can see me now. Watching you shoot that gun was a freaking aphrodisiac.”
He smiled. “Again, tempting…but not yet.”
Still holding on to his collar, she threw her head back in frustration. “You’re trying to torture me, aren’t you?”
Suddenly serious, Wes smoothed her hair down and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Not at all.”
“Then what is it?” Didn’t he want her as badly as she wanted him?
“Maybe I like keeping you in suspense.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I noticed.”
“And it gives us something to look forward to”—he trapped his lower lip beneath his teeth—”next month in Los Angeles.”
Whitney’s stomach did a gigantic flip flop. “You’re gonna do it?”
Wes nodded slowly. “I have to see you again. It’s not a choice. It has to happen.”
He pressed his lips to the exposed skin of her neck, sucking gently as his fingers weaved through her hair.
“My hotel isn’t far away. Pleee-eease reconsider.”
Wes said nothing but continued to lick, kiss, and suck at her sensitive skin. She wanted nothing more than to pull him into his car and straddle him right that second, but maybe he was on to something in delaying their gratification. The anticipation of seeing him again, of waiting until the next time they could be intimate was intoxicating in and of itself.
“Believe me, beautiful. When I get to L.A., I look forward to seeing you more than anything. Anything at all. And I promise you, just like before, it’ll be worth the wait.”
Whitney scoffed playfully, climbing into the SUV, planning her cold shower back at the hotel. She wondered how she could possibly last a month without having Wes in her bed. She wanted that cowboy more than she wanted just about anything else. But he was determined to drive her wild by making her wait. He was such a freaking tease, a hot, sexy-while-firing-a-gun tease.
Even before she stepped out of his car and he kissed her goodnight, she was counting down the days until the semi-finals. When she’d reached her hotel room and stripped herself of her clothes, she finally figured out the exact time she’d have to wait. It was twenty two days until she’d see her sexy cowboy again. Just twenty-two days.
Who was she kidding? That would be over three weeks of agony. Her mind raced with thoughts of Wes above her, below her, behind her. On the bed, in the bathtub, on the freaking floor…
“To hell with the shower,” she said, closing the glass door and marching toward her suitcase. “I need my vibrator.”
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