Home > Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(63)

Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(63)
Author: Lorelei James

“Chase? You okay? You sorta stopped moving.”

“Just taking a breather before this.” He surged into her. Slam. Withdraw. Slam. Withdraw. Slam.

She emitted a sexy groan.

He noticed Ava hadn’t lifted her head. “Tell me what it looks like from that angle,” he asked, not missing a single stroke.

“Hot as hell. No wonder you love to take me from behind, if this is what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah.” Chase picked up the pace, his hands slippery on her damp skin. “It’s a f**king turn on to bury my dick so far inside you it looks like we’re one person.”

“Pretty poetic, McKay. God! Do that again.”

“This?” He swiveled his hips when his c**k was fully seated.

“Yes! Dammit, I’m done.”

She came again. Her body shaking, but she held position.

Which sent him soaring into the abyss. Pulse after pulse of his c**k emptying set his limbs to quaking. His eyes rolled back in his head and pleasure swamped him.

When she groaned and said, “I’m getting a cramp,” he roused himself from that happy place and pulled out.

She rolled up and gave him a contented look.

He grinned back at her. “You know, Hollywood. This yoga stuff ain’t half bad.”

Chapter Twenty

If the first two weeks they were together had been about friendship, the last two weeks had been about sex.

They still couldn’t get enough of each other. They’d spend all day traveling. Then they’d fall on each other the second they were alone. Usually in their motel room, since Chase wasn’t much on public displays of affection. But when that bedroom door closed? It was almost as if her body became an extension of his—their bodies were never apart for very long, whether in rest, in sleep or in passion.

The passion between them…one for the record books. Ava had never been in such an explosive sexual relationship. She’d known Chase’s sexuality was an innate part of him, but she’d never understood it was such an innate part of her too.

Yet, for as addictive as their lovemaking had become, the friendship part of their relationship hadn’t changed. They never ran out of things to talk about. Silly things. Serious things. She never had to guess Chase’s feelings on anything. He threw them out boldly and without apology. The silences between them weren’t awkward, demanding conversation.

What she wouldn’t give for some silence right now. Total silence. She sighed.

“That’s about the fifteenth time you’ve sighed in the last five minutes. What’s wrong now?”

Rather than let it go again, she snapped, “Do you have to eat those stupid sunflower seeds every damn time we get in the truck?”

Chase said, “Yup,” then spit the spent seeds into his discard cup.

Rattle the bag. Fill his mouth with seeds. Crack the seeds. Spit out the empty shells. Repeat. Sometimes for six hundred miles.

It drove Ava f**king insane.

Sure, it was Chase’s truck. But if she had to listen to Mr. Chipmunk Cheeks enjoying his nuts for the next three hours, she might do something rash, and rude, and violent to his nuts.

Needing a distraction, she flipped on the radio, scrolling through static until she found a station that played decent music. Her bare toes tapped in time to Lady GaGa’s “Poker Face” as she resituated herself and her laptop.

Click. Off went the radio.

Ava didn’t demand he turn it back on. She just reached over and did it herself.

“Shut that shit off,” Mr. Chipmunk Cheeks said around a mouthful of seeds.

“I’m listening to it.”

“You wanna hear music, listen to your damn iPod.”

“I told you my ear buds broke, but you couldn’t be bothered to stop so I could pick up a new pair. So deal with it.”

He sighed with utter exasperation. “You can have the radio on if you find a country music station.”

“No way,” she sneered. “I hate that whining, puntastic drivel.”

“And ‘Poker Face’ is what? Pure musical artistry?” Chase sneered right back.

“Yep.” Ava cranked the music a notch higher.

He turned it back down. “You’re starting to piss me off.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

How had they survived these last two weeks?

Wait a second. Hadn’t Chase told her he’d rarely made it past the two-week mark with any lover? Maybe this was how he intended to end it. By picking fights.

But you started it. Be the bigger person and let it go.

“I wish I had your damn camera pointed at you right now so you could see your diva side, a side which you claim ain’t there, because darlin’, it sure as hell is.” Spit. Spit.

That smart comment totally screwed him for her being the bigger person. “I wish I had my damn camera pointed at you right now so you could see how ridiculous you look with your mouth crammed full of sunflower seeds,” she mimicked. “Ooh, and the bonus? You’d get to hear how f**king irritating it is when you spit them out.”

He smiled at her with sunflower seeds all over his teeth.

“Eww. Gross, Chase, shut your mouth. That’s nasty.”

“Now you’re just bein’ mean.” He rolled down the window and emptied his overflowing seed cup.

Great. Now when he spit out his spent seeds she’d hear a ping against the paper cup after the pa-tooey spitting sound.

Next pee break Ava was buying barbecue-flavored CornNuts. The crunch and the smell would be the ultimate payback. “When are we stopping?”

“Not until I need to fill up. Why? You gotta use the bathroom again?”

“My bladder is different than yours. Plus. I’m hungry.” When he offered her his bag of seeds, she almost grabbed it and chucked it out the window. Which he knew, if the smirk on his face was any indication. “I want real food.”

Chase snorted. “Define real food.”

“Something that is not battered and deep fat fried. A fresh garden salad with spinach and arugula and butter lettuce, bursting with crunchy vegetables.”

“You had a salad yesterday.”

“I had chopped iceberg lettuce with a few carrot shavings and one cherry tomato—that is not a salad. And since when is a cup of fruit cocktail topped with sliced bananas considered a side of fruit?”

“Since always. I can pull over and you can forage for fresh crunchy greens in the ditch if you like.”

“Oh shut up. Now who’s being mean?”

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