Jacob's back was to the mercantile door, so he smelled her before he saw her. The scents of rope, leather, and grain were usually overwhelming in the small store, but he picked up the musky earthiness that belonged to her alone immediately. His whole body tightened in response. He blinked hard, for the first time afraid to trust his keenest sense. It couldn't
be her. He closed his eyes and tried to think back to the last conversation he'd had with Angus before the old man left yesterday. Feed the chickens, check the horses, blah, blah, blah. The bastard had definitely not
Jacob sucked in a breath through his nose and almost groaned aloud as her scent assaulted him again. He began to sweat. He could taste her sweetness on his tongue. With determination, he switched to breathing through his mouth. A few oxygen-restoring breaths later, he became aware that the normal clatter and bustle of the mercantile had stopped; the room was now unnaturally quiet. He looked up and noted that Hazel, who ran the shop with her husband, was watching him closely.
With a sense of anticipation and, inevitability, he carefully set the box of cereal he was holding onto the counter and turned toward the door. She was there. Just as he remembered her. His cock, which had come to attention at her smell, hardened even more in his snug blue jeans.
Okay, she wasn't exactly
the same. The last time he had seen her, she hadn't been more than sixteen, still an awkward girl teetering on the brink of womanhood. As she stood before him now in cut-off shorts and a snug little tank top, he saw few traces of that girl. He had to grab the edge of the battered counter behind him to keep from taking her now, in front of Hazel, or anyone else who chose to watch, right there on the hard dusty floor of the mercantile.
* * * * *
The afternoon sun had been bright, and it took Mandy's eyes a few moments to adjust to the dim interior. In that moment of blindness, her other senses took over. Of course, the first thing she noticed was that there was no breeze. Damn
. Sighing in resignation, she sensed movement across the room and heard the sound of shoes scuffing on the wood floor. She inhaled, and her spirits picked up as the pungent scents of leather and grain greeted her. Hopefully, the smells would drown out her stink.
Then, inexplicably, her body went on alert. The hairs on the back of her neck tingled, and her nipples hardened despite the comfortable temperature inside the store. What the hell?
She blinked rapidly to clear the bright spots that blocked her vision. To her great surprise, she found her eyes resting on what had to be the finest male ass west of the Mississippi.
She was not a woman given to ogling men's backsides, but she didn't question the impulse now. Her lips parted and she let out a ragged breath. Her clit twitched to attention. A voice in her head demanded, more!
Her eyes immediately obeyed, beginning a hungry perusal, devouring every inch of him with an intensity that would have shocked her if she had been able to process a coherent thought.
Her gaze first moved down, traveling over the well-fitted denim-clad legs, to take in the long lean length of him. Those sexy legs were slightly spread as he stood in front of the counter. Mandy couldn't stop the image of herself bent over that counter in front of him, while he thrust himself into her very wet pussy. She barely kept a groan from escaping her lips, and she forced her eyes to move back up his body. The half above the belt proved to be just as impressive as the half below. She greedily catalogued the lean sinewy length of him, arms tanned and muscled, braced on the counter. He wore a black T-shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders and the graceful taper to narrow hips. And that ass.
The man was perfectly built.
Mandy's breathing became even shallower, and she brought a hand to her mouth to make sure she wasn't drooling. She derived some small amount of satisfaction from the realization that her tongue was still in her mouth and she had not yet started publicly salivating.
What was wrong with her? Since when did her pussy do the happy dance because a guy had a nice hiney? Her careful, respectable upbringing struggled to assert itself. She had no idea who Mr. Nice Butt was. He could be a serial killer or an animal abuser
for all she knew. She blinked rapidly and gave herself a mental shake. Get a grip!
Before she had a chance to get her libido under control, he moved. She realized that he was going to turn around, and part of her mind screamed, no!
What if the front couldn't measure up to the promise of that delectable backside? She wasn't sure she'd survive the disappointment.
He seemed to move in slow motion. By the time he had completely turned around, her heart was pounding so hard in her chest she was sure they could hear it in the next county. When he pinned her with his deep black eyes, she realized the situation was much worse than she could have imagined. The man was a god.
Holy shit. She was in trouble.