Back In The Saddle (Bachelor Auction #2) by Vanessa Vale



1





SARAH



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Friday night



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One tug of his fingers on the tie at my waist, and the wrap dress came undone. His knuckles brushed my bare skin and I shivered. Not from cold but desire. The light material slid open and revealed my matching bra and panties.

“This is my new favorite kind of dress,” Huck murmured, his head dipped, his gaze on my body. His sandy hair was thick and curly, and I wanted to reach out and run my fingers through it. Yet I held still. I tried to catch my breath because he’d barely touched me and I was hot for him. The way his pale eyes darkened, the way his jaw clenched… he wanted me. I also couldn’t miss the thick prod of his dick against the front of his jeans. My pussy clenched, remembering how he’d felt inside me. We’d been in love, foolish, and—

“Baby girl, you’re even more beautiful than I remember.” His gaze flicked up. Met mine. Held. “And I remember often.”

Baby girl.

I hadn’t been called that in years, and only by Huck. Not since he broke up with me right before I left for college. I’d missed the endearment, along with him. The words reminded me it really was Huck Manning standing in front of me. Touching me. Hard for me.

Was I crazy doing this? The last time he’d had me—not only the last, but the first—I’d had my heart in on it. I’d loved him. Given him everything, including my virginity. I’d craved him and all he’d promised.

I wasn’t nineteen any longer. Didn’t have blinders on where he was concerned. I stood before him. Older. Wiser.

Still… this was Huck. I was in his bedroom, and I was close to naked. To hide my shaking hands, I raised them to his chest and gripped the cotton of his shirt. With a bold tug, the snaps gave way, revealing his broad torso.

He’d changed in six years. Filled out. Built muscle. His skin was tanned from the summer sun. His chest had a smattering of blond hair between dusky, flat nipples. When my fingertips brushed over his belly, his abs tightened.

“Fuck,” he murmured, then took my wrist in a gentle hold.

I looked up, wondered why he stopped me.

The corner of his mouth curled. “Keep doing that and we’ll be done too fast. I want this to last.”

“Just touching you?” I whispered, awe in my voice. Not because he might have a quick trigger, but because I felt the power I had over him.

“Yeah, just the brush of your fingertips could finish me.” His hand gently squeezed, and I looked up at him through my lashes. “We need to talk about this before we—”

I shook my head. The last thing I wanted to do was talk. I had a mission here. I had to stay focused on it. His touch… fuck, just his scent was making me lose my mind. He wasn’t the only one who could come from just a a brush of his fingers. My clit ached and my pussy clenched with anticipation. My pussy wasn’t in charge here though.

“No talking,” I whispered.

He released his hold, his hands sliding up my arms to my shoulders, where he pushed my dress back. It slid silently to the floor so I was only in my underwear and cowgirl boots.

He took a step back, looked me over. I tried not to squirm, because it had been a really long time. I wasn’t a teenager any longer. I’d filled out. He was too intense, his gaze heated. This was how he’d looked at me earlier across the crowded auditorium at the community center when I’d shouted out my bid at the bachelor auction.

It had only grown more intense once I’d won him and he’d hopped from the stage to join me in the crowd. To take my hand and lead me out of the building. To where we were now in his bedroom on the ranch with only a few articles of clothing between us.

It was as if he could stand it no longer and reached out, hooked a hand behind the back of my neck, and pulled me in. Kissed me.

Oh yes. This. I remembered his taste. The slightly rough feel of his hold. His barely leashed need. The gentle scrape of his stubble.

I pulled the tails of his shirt from his jeans as we kissed, my hands roaming now. His chest, his back, his butt over the denim.

He yanked me into him so I felt every hard inch. I was reminded of his size, a foot taller than my five-two. He could overpower me. Dominate me in ways that weren’t kinky or fun.

But he wouldn’t. The guy may have hurt my heart, but I knew he’d never lay a hand on me in anger. In his arms was the one place where I’d felt truly safe.