CHAPTER TWO

 

Rig watched the epitome of the perfect girl next-door walk away from him, and once again, he admired the incredible view of her behind in denim short shorts. Except this time, he also took the opportunity to check out her silky legs. His jeans got a whole lot tighter in the fly area and his palms ached to know if her skin felt as soft as it looked.

 

She wore very little makeup, if any at all. Which he loved. Her hair was pulled into a thick bun, positioned low at the base of her head. She wore a flannel shirt, tied into a knot at her waist and some sort of barely there lace tank top underneath it. And cowgirl boots, good God, boots! Rig ran his palm over his head. Damn, she was fine.

 

He’d called her ma’am—no different from how he addressed all females he came in contact with. It was a respect thing his Momma and Daddy ensured he learned as a kid, but for some reason when he said it to this girl, it felt way different. The second the respectful term had passed his lips, her eyes had flared, a fire sparking in them. But then, almost immediately, as if he was connected to her in some mystical way, his body responded like she’d called him directly to her—and he followed the instinct, stepping as close as he could get.

 

God Almighty, when Rig touched her arm and the heat of her skin passed through the thin flannel sleeve to his palm, his dick had gone rod hard. Even so, he knew on some sort of molecular level he’d been wrong to touch her without asking. When he let go, all he could think about was how much he wanted—no, needed to touch her again.

 

After she’d taken the bar rag from him to finish cleaning up the spill, he stuffed his hands in his pockets like a stupid insecure teenager. He didn’t trust himself, and looking like a fool was far better than touching her again without permission.

 

Truth be told, the way some of the world lacked respect for personal boundaries, made Rig’s stomach turn. No matter a person’s gender, they didn’t have the right to touch someone without their consent—another thing his parents had made sure he understood even as a small boy. Though his family wasn’t perfect, without a doubt, his parents had raised him right.

 

Once he’d started getting older, and having girlfriends, Rig never laid his hands on a woman without being invited to do so. But this instinctual pull, driving him to go to her, was something entirely different. Unable to process everything swirling around his head, Rig moved back to his seat at the bar and ordered another beer.

 

An idea niggled at the back of his mind, just out of reach. Rig sipped from the beer bottle and watched his tiny waitress move about the bar as the idea—which had started as little, and ridiculous—grew. Until there was nothing to do but throw all the doors and windows open and face it.

 

Yes, the need for her to give him permission was rooted in respecting her rights for personal space and as a human being…but more than all of that combined, it had everything to do with pleasing her and gaining her approval.

 

Rig knew, the same as he knew his own name, if she asked him to go to his knees, even right there in front of an entire bar full of people, he’d do it. He’d crawl to her if it were what she wanted. He’d kiss her petite little cowboy booted feet too. And not because it was some demeaning or humiliating act he’d get off on.

 

No. Doing it for her and only her, didn’t feel demeaning or humiliating. It felt liberating. It felt like what she wanted or needed was the only thing that mattered, and the power of being the one to give her any and all things, pulsed through him in time with his heartbeat. As if it was what he was meant to do... But beneath all of it, flowing like a raging river, was a deep need to please her. And he didn’t even know her name.

 

Where the fuck all these unusual emotional and sexual realizations—at least unusual for him—were coming from, Rig had no clue. He only knew they were right and true.

 

With his thoughts boomeranging around his head like speeding bullets, Rig signaled the bartender for another shot. After he’d swallowed the golden liquid, and the burn traveled from his throat to his belly, he tried to wrap some logic around what he was feeling and what this could be saying about who he was as a person.

 

He wasn’t a weak guy. He didn’t let anyone lead him around by his nose…or his dick for that matter. Although the thought of this little lady taking a hold of his cock only made things get tighter behind his zipper.

 

“You stare any harder, you might actually burn a hole in her ass with your eyes.”

 

Rig whipped his head around to find the bartender, Cassy wiping down the bar surface in front of him. He smirked. “That obvious?”

 

She rolled her eyes. “Beyond obvious. You’re welcome to keep at it, but you’re wasting your time. Bethany doesn’t ever mess with the customers.”

 

“That feels a whole lot like a challenge. Or are you just that jealous?” Rig tipped his beer back for a swallow.

 

Cassy dipped her chin and raised a brow. “Honey, please. I have no reason to be jealous of Bethany.”

 

Rig watched her walk away and couldn’t help but chuckle. Clearly, the woman wasn’t used to anyone besides her getting attention. But the idea that she could be arrogant or self-centered enough to believe Bethany—Jesus, what a perfect name for her—wasn’t pretty or beautiful enough to gain attention from a man made Cassy look like an ugly hag to him.

 

Before he’d even been face-to-face with Bethany, Rig could see she was pretty. But watching her for the last twenty minutes or so, as she did her job waiting on the patrons in the bar, he’d decided she was beyond beautiful. It was the way she smiled at her customers. The way she stopped and gave them her full attention as they talked to her. But also, it was how they treated her. It was obvious, by observing the patrons who were familiar with her, that she was regarded as someone with a genuine heart. Their faces would change, their expressions going soft when they spoke to her.

 

Beauty isn’t only skin deep. What made a person pretty, or beautiful even, was what their heart and character was made of. So far, Bethany was proving his line of thinking to be correct. All Rig had to figure out now was how he was going to earn the privilege of her attention.

 

In more ways than just her customer.

 

#

 

Bethany cleared a table of the empties and tried for all it was worth not to glance over at the bar for the eight-hundredth-millionth time in the last few hours. That freaking beautiful, tall and muscular, country boy was still sitting there. Bottle of beer and shot glass in front of him. On occasion he got up and went to the men’s room and then came back to his stool. But aside from that, he hadn’t talked to anyone. Hadn’t danced with anyone. Amazingly, he’d barely paid Cassy any mind either—from what Bethany could tell anyway.

 

What he had done was watch Bethany.

 

All.

 

Night.

 

Long.

 

When she caught his eyes, he would nod at her, sometimes he would smile. Other times he would simply stare at her. It wasn’t creepy, or stalkerish. On the contrary it was like he was waiting for something.

 

Waiting for her maybe… The expression on his face was one of patience, and contentment. As if he would sit there until she told him to go, or stay, or do anything she wanted.

 

Although Bethany didn’t do one-night stands, ever, the idea of taking him to her home, to her bed and having him do whatever she requested had lust tightening her stomach and shooting like a bolt of lightning to her clit. For God’s sake, her panties had been wet the better part of the night because of him.

 

Back at the waitress station—and only a mere few feet away from where he sat—Bethany’s skin itched and her lower abdomen clenched in a knot. She blew out a breath, trying to expel some of the tension as she tossed the empty beer bottles in the trash before lining the dirty glasses up for the bar-backs to wash.

 

Life hadn’t been full of sexual partners; she only been with a few men. In fact, she could count them all on one hand, with fingers to spare, including her high school boyfriend. But none of them had lit a fire inside her like this stranger was doing—by simply sitting there.

 

In the last year or so, romance books had been the key to unlocking desires inside of Bethany, she’d had no idea were there. To some, it was a completely taboo thing, somewhere far across the line of kinky. The idea of being the dominant one, a female Dom—the one who called the shots and made the rules, had her searching for that one perfect man.

 

A man who was willing to get on his knees for her, and only her.

 

Although she was certain the kinky kind of sex where she got to be the one in charge could never be found by her. But aside from her sexual cravings, at the age of twenty-three, Bethany had also given up on finding the perfect, emotional connection she’d dreamed of having. That type of chemistry was only something that existed in fiction.

 

In truth, she’d never even bothered to look for it. And for all she knew, what she was feeling right then only meant she was horny. It had been a while since she’d had sex. Lust could screw with the brain, make a person feel things that weren’t real, all in the name of a much needed orgasm.

 

“Ma’am?”

 

Bethany froze as a ripple of pure lust rushed through her body, filling her from head to toe. The feeling rocked her to the core and she had to close her eyes, grip the edge of the counter and remind herself to breathe. When she felt she’d composed herself enough, she raised her eyes and found his gaze instantly.

 

He’d moved to the end of the bar, right next to the waitress station. Bethany swallowed, and felt something else rise inside her she wasn’t sure how to label. Strength, dominance, control? She wasn’t sure, but she let it lead her. Bethany stepped around the edge of the bar and stood in front of him. “Tell me your name.”

 

He inclined his head. “Name’s Rig, ma’am.”

 

Her stomach clenched and her clit pulsed. Bethany stifled a moan and schooled her features. Could she orgasm from hearing him call her ma’am? Was that even a thing? “Rig? That’s an interesting name.”

 

“Grew up on a farm, friends gave it to me. And then—”

 

Bethany watched as he drew in a deep breath, his big chest expanding with the action, his tall frame tightening but not in a good way. Obviously, she’d hit a nerve and with only one single question…or was it from the answer he’d given? Whether it was the farm or the football, she wasn’t sure. “…And then, what?”

 

His expression darkened. “Then with football…it stuck.”

 

With no idea where this was going, she pressed on. “Football, hmm? What position do you play?”

 

He ran his palm along the back of his neck, his brow furrowed and a corner of his lip dipped into a frown. “Don’t play anymore, but quarterback.”

 

Bethany ached to smooth away the distress coating his beautiful features. Yet, curiosity tickled at the edges of her mind, she needed to know more. Plus, she was no fool. Clearly, the conversation served as an excellent distraction since what she wanted to do was climb his tall body. “Why don’t you play anymore?”

 

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and shrugged, his expression now tired, almost defeated. “Just lucky, I guess.”

 

Apparently, yes. A sensitive nerve for sure, and she’d knocked on the one door he didn’t care to have opened where the topic was hiding out. Along with it, sharing space behind a locked emotional door, was a boatload of pain and Lord knew what else. Considering all of this, then why tell her anything at all? Bethany frowned and tilted her head to the side as the need to understand, as well as ease his pain coated her insides. “Doesn’t sound so lucky to me, but how about we talk more about that later?”

 

“Whatever you want, ma’am”

 

She drew in a deep breath. Whatever she… Good grief, did the man have any idea of how he was affecting her? “What’s your real name?”

 

“Colby Jenkins.” He held out his hand. “May I know yours?”

 

As she placed her hand in his, Bethany closed her eyes and the electric current she expected would be there passed between them, flowing through her entire body…and this time, as her clit pulsed in time with her heart, she swore she actually had an orgasm. Opening her eyes, she leveled her gaze on him. “Bethany Carlson. Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“Pleasure’s all mine.” A broad smile spread across his mouth revealing a set of perfect teeth.

 

Colby stroked his thumb over the top of Bethany’s hand and another shock blasted through her. She bit her bottom lip as more moisture coated her panties. Oh, dear. This was happening. The cool breeze of relief mixed with satisfaction filled her mind and she let her breath out as if she’d been holding it in forever. Inching closer, she tipped her head back to gaze up at him. “Colby, you’ve been here nearly all night but you’ve talked to no one. Why is that?”

 

“I’m waiting for you.”

 

She glanced down at their linked hands. “To do what?”

 

“To—” He shook his head and then closed his eyes. A moment later, he continued. “For you to tell me what it is you need.”

 

Moving closer, Bethany ran the palm of her free hand up his bicep. “What then?”

 

“Then I’ll set to giving you exactly what it is you need.”

 

His gaze bore into Bethany’s and she felt everything inside her go still. Everything but her heart—which pounded hard enough that her skin throbbed right along with it. “What if what I need is for you to go home and shower. Then come back here an hour after closing and meet me in the back parking lot. Would you do it?”

 

His bicep flexed under her grip. At the same time a muscle in the side of his chiseled jaw jumped. “Yes.”

 

Closing the distance between their bodies, Bethany rose on tiptoe and placed her lips at the side of his ear. “That was an easy one.” She felt his free hand graze her hip but then it was gone—so fast, she almost thought she imagined it. But she hadn’t. Interesting. “Are you waiting for permission to touch me, Colby?”

 

His breath came out of him in a rush. “Please, yes. May I?”

 

“May you, what?” As she whispered close to his ear, his body shuddered against hers. Heady waves of lust and power filled her stomach, making it tight. Bethany’s clit pulsed and her cunt clenched, aching to be filled. The sexual tension boiling inside her was so out of control that if he slid his big thigh between her legs and gave even the barest pressure against her core, she’d orgasm.

 

“Please, ma’am, may I touch you?”

 

Bethany gripped his arm, digging her fingertips into the fabric of his flannel shirt. “Yes, but not right now. You’ll wait until later. For now, go do as I asked.”

 

Another breath rushed out of him and his body sagged against hers.

 

With every inch of Bethany’s being, she wanted to feel this man’s hands on her skin. With every fiber of her soul she wanted to feel his body naked against hers. She wanted to taste him. She wanted to see his eyes when she let him slide between her legs.

 

Bethany wanted…all of it and more.

 

But not yet.