Page 23 of Jensen

“You need to stop,” I whisper.

His forehead creases. “Why would I do that?”

The crowd roars,and the third fight of the night is done. The bartender starts pulling winnings, and I know we’re about to be swarmed. I don’t watch these things often, but Leland used to host cage fights in Red River Gorge back home. He took me once, but I didn’t have a taste for the gore and the heat. Watching Jensen fight,however…that’s a different story.

The crowd descends, jostling us out of our trance.

“Fuck,” Jensen swears, pulling his hand from between my legs.

“If you’re going to ask me so nicely, I’ll switch my no to a maybe,” I say.

He doesn’t reply. Instead, he takes thebeer from my hand and sets it aside, weaving his fingers through mineand leading me from the swarming bodies.

My heart races. He pulls me outside, pushing me roughly against the side of the pole barn. His mouth is on the side of my neck. His hands are all over me, skimming over my waist, down my hips, caressing my bare thighs, callouses and dirty tape and rough palms.

Hands that feel nothing like Leland’s did.

My toes curl in my bootsandmy head falls to the side. More, I need more. Desire feels less shaky and tender and more like a wild animal. Fuck, I need him inside me, on me. It doesn’t make sense, but it doesn’t have to.

My hands fall to his leather belt. I see a flash of his smile, white teeth, creases by his eyes. It’s dark enough down there,I can’t get the buckle undone. My fingers tug at it, but it’s stuck. A frustrated whimper escapes my throat. He laughs softly, catching one of my wrists.

“I think that maybe might be a yes,” he says.

I should push back, but I just nod, swallowing.

“Where’s home for you, cowboy?” I ask.

He jerks his head to the north-west. “I live just between South Platte and Sovereign Mountain. It’s night, the road's clear. I can make the drive quick.”

Breathless, I nod. He reaches into his pocket and takes out a key fob. A truck a few feetaway beeps. Extracting myself from him, I stumble, tripping on the grass. His arm shoots out and wraps around my waist.

I turn to the side. He’s so close,our noses touch.

God, I want him to kiss me.

“What am I doing? You could be a serial killer,” I whisper. “I don’t even know what you do.”

He laughs again. “I own a construction company.”

“I’ll bet you bury the bodies under all the concrete you pour.”

He picks me up and dumps me into the truck. I shift across the leather seats,and he slides into the driver’s side.

“The only burying I’m doing tonight is burying my dick in that pussy,” he says, turning the key and slamming the door shut.

He glances over his shoulder as he backs up, spinning in a half circle and heading towards the road. I pull my seatbelt on, clicking it in. The sound feels…final.

I came here to do exactly this.

So why does it feel like I’m losing control?

He flips the cruise control on as hegets onthe highway. Then, he braces his knees apart to lift his hips, adjusting his pants. There’s still an alarmingly big rise beneath his zipper. I glance down,and he catches my stare.

“I’m tested, by the way,” he says.

A wave of guilt comes over me, but the minute it comes, it’s gone. I’m single.I can do whatever I want.

“I am too,” I whisper.