Chapter 30
Thirty
Her breath left her in a whoosh as she stared at him. Travis groaned, shaking his head. “Dammit, Roxy.”
He was seconds away from throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her out of the bar and back to their motel room when the bartender showed back up with their food.
Fuck, he wanted her so bad it hurt. But he wanted her for more than just tonight; he wanted her for so much longer than just tonight.
He reminded himself how bad of an idea it was to start something with her now, now that they only had days left…
but when she looked up at him with those gold and jade eyes, he knew the fight was over.
He had lost. Had possibly never even stood a chance against this bombshell before him.
They ate, shoulder to shoulder, much like they had that morning at her kitchen counter.
It felt like a lifetime ago, when it had only been hours.
So much had changed in those hours since.
He knew he would never be the same, not after her.
She was like a tornado; she had ripped through his life and tossed all of the neatly compartmentalized pieces of his existence into complete and utter chaos.
And he didn’t care. He didn’t want to go back to that life.
He would follow her, wherever she decided to go.
He was irretrievably caught in her gravitational pull.
Sucked right in and powerless to get out.
When Roxy pushed her mostly empty plate away and requested a second shot, he ordered one, too.
They didn’t kiss after this one, though he very strongly considered it.
A light flush had crept up her chest and cheeks, from the alcohol and the temperature in the crowded bar, he was sure.
When she’d come out of that motel bathroom in the tight as sin tank top with no fucking bra on, he’d had to adjust himself in his jeans.
Her nipples had poked through the material while they’d stood in the room, the AC having cooled the room enough to not be wholly stifling.
It had taken all of his considerable will-power not to drag the neckline of the tank top down and feast on her right then.
Cole Swindell’s ‘Flatliner’ started, booming over the sound system, and Roxy grinned, taking his hand in her own. “Dance with me.”
He laughed out loud, but let her pull him out of his chair and out to the crowded dance floor.
They found an empty spot, and Roxy caught up with the steps with ease.
Her boot heels stomped and clacked, her fiery curls bouncing around her shoulders as she moved.
Her wide, unrestrained smile was everything, and he was once again powerless against her.
His gaze followed every move she made, and when she laughed, it cracked something in his chest wide open.
Alan Jackson’s ‘Good Time’ began, and the steps picked up in pace.
He liked best when they faced the same direction, he thoroughly enjoyed watching her ass in front of him as she moved.
Dropping into a crouch on one beat, she bounced back up in the next, kicking her feet out one at a time before spinning to face the next wall.
Josh Turner’s ‘Be Your Man’ queued up, the deep bass of the singer’s voice reverberating around them.
Dancers on either side of them partnered up.
A cowboy with a black hat and graying horseshoe mustache stepped toward Roxy, but Travis glared at the ballsy cowboy and hauled Roxy into his arms, until their chests were pressed close.
She smiled up at him, those gold and jade eyes flashing with laughter and joy.
She grinned up at him, then reached up with one hand, pulling his cowboy hat off his head. Placing it on her own head, she winked up at him in challenge.
“You know what that means, don’t you?” he asked roughly, his mouth grazing over the shell of her ear. “Wearing my hat?”
She licked her lips, staring up at him and then nodded, whispering breathlessly, “Yes, Travis.”
He growled low in his throat, banding one arm around her waist, bringing her body flush with his.
His mouth found her throat, just for a heartbeat, and then he pushed her away, turning her to face forward.
She glanced at him over her shoulder, from beneath the brim of his fucking cowboy hat on her head, the hat that now claimed her as his.
She settled into his embrace, and the next second they were moving around the dance floor along with the other couples.
Their movements together were effortless; Roxy moved with a grace that never ceased to leave him in awe as her hand found his once again as they made another circle around the dance floor.
She was admittedly much better than he was, but you didn’t spend a large chunk of your adult life in Texas and not know a few line dancing basics.
She grinned over at him and bit her lip, the silent question in her eyes.
He nodded, and then she spun under his arm and away, their fingers linked and arms outstretched.
He snatched the hat off her head, replacing it on his own as she did a little shimmy, and he laughed out loud.
He pulled her back into him then, flush against his own body as his arm slid around her waist, hand splayed wide between her shoulder blades, supporting her as he dipped her low.
Time seemed to slow, the blaring music fading around them, the noise of so many other people dancing around them disappearing altogether, until it was just the two of them.
As if no one else existed in the room in that moment.
Her leg that was not pressed against his lap lifted and without a conscious thought, his hand was sliding down the curve of her hip and along the expanse of bare thigh below the short cutoff jean shorts.
His fingers curled into the groove at the back of her knee, lifting it nearly to his waist, his heart hammering like a drum in his chest, and he stared down at her as she let her head tip back with the dip.
Her fiery curls cascaded over her shoulders toward the floor.
He tracked the way her eyes closed, the carefree, wide smile that pulled at her lips, the arch of her throat.
The low-cut tank top did little to hide the swell of her breasts and he was transfixed by a dot of sweat that rolled down between them, disappearing beneath the fabric. His cock ached painfully behind the fly of his jeans and he wanted nothing more than to follow that bead of sweat with his tongue.
In the next second, time sped up again, pulling him from the intimate moment as she lowered her leg back to the floor, her body straightening as she came back up from the low dip.
His mouth tracked along the curve of her throat and the underside of her jaw as she came up, which caused her to suck in a tremulous breath, and he was done for.
The sound of that little gasp ricocheted through his brain like a gunshot.
She spun away, doing two rapid turns on her boot heels before returning to his arms, but her eyes were wide, her lips parted with short, staccato breaths that went straight to his dick.
Pressing his palm between her shoulder blades, he urged her closer, feet still moving them around the dance floor.
His other hand disappeared into the hair at the back of her head, fingers sliding through the curls.
Their eyes locked, and he was incapable of looking away from those green and gold depths.
In the semi-darkness of the dance hall, with only the occasional flash of a revolving stage light to break up the shadows, it was easy to pretend they were alone in the crowded hall.
But then she was spinning away again, though their hands remained entwined as they continued moving around the floor.
The song ended and Travis clasped her hand in his firmly, guiding them off the dance floor.
Roxy didn’t protest, following him as he led them back toward the bar, where he tossed a handful of bills onto the bar, and then pulled her out the doors and into the night.
The rain had started again, the torrential downpour pelting them as they ran through the parking lot and across the road to the motel.
The red neon sign glowed through the driving rain, guiding them as they ran.
Roxy was laughing freely by the time they made it to the shelter of the overhang that ran the length of the motel, and he couldn’t help the answering chuckle that escaped him at the sound of her laughter.
It was so carefree and husky, and the sound of it wound around his heart like a vice.
He knew he would never escape her. She was as much a part of him as his own heartbeats now.
A few more steps brought them to the door of their room and he dug the key out of his pocket, the orange tag dangling between his fingers.
Drenched completely for the second time that night, their clothes clung to their bodies, and Roxy’s curls had flattened against her head and around her shoulders.
Her mascara had smudged slightly beneath her eyes from the rain.
Half laughing, half panting from their sprint through the downpour, Roxy looked up at him, her lips still pulled into a wide smile that he could just make out in the shadows that surrounded them like a cloak.
The roar of the rain was a cacophony as it pelted the ground, the metal roof that sheltered them, and the cars parked along the length of the motel, blocking everything else out around them.
Travis stared down at her smiling face, rain soaked, mascara smudged, and still sporting that bruise beneath her eye…and couldn’t remember a time that he’d ever seen a more beautiful sight than the woman standing in front of him.