Free Blazing Bedtime Stories by Rhonda Nelson, Leslie Kelly Kimberly Raye Page A

determined than any woman he’d ever met—her coming after him like a bulldog for his hair growth secret was proof. And she was courageous. She’d been frightened on his doorstep that night, but she hadn’t backed down. She’d faced off with him, propositioned him, and for that, he admired her.
    But none of that made him want to kiss her senseless. Or sink into her sweet, delectable body. Or pull her close when it was over and never let go.
    The hunger.
    He sure as hell didn’t want a future with Shay Briggs. His future mate was out there waiting for him, and he had every intention of finding her.
    But first he had to satisfy the need clawing at his gut.
    He killed the water, climbed from the shower and reached for a towel. He dressed in jeans, a T-shirt and a pair of worn boots. The Jeep squealed as he backed it up and swung around. In a matter of minutes, he cleared the trees and hit one of the farm roads that led to the interstate.
    He drove several miles and ended up at a small honky tonk on the outskirts of the next town.
    Cooter’s Dance Hall had once been an ancient barn. The outside still sported a rusted red tin roof. Heavy wooden doors stood open and colored lights pushed out into the gravel parking lot. A rowdy Gretchen Wilson tune made the walls vibrate.
    Matt killed the engine of his Jeep and climbed out. The steady crunch of his boots echoed in his head as he made his way toward the entrance. He paused in the doorway, his eyes adjusting to the bright glow of neon that sliced through the dim interior. Smoke fogged the air and the steady clack of pool balls echoed off the tin walls. Small round tables surrounded the perimeter of an old wooden dance floor sprinkled with sawdust and hay. A dozen couples slid this way and that, keeping time to the fast two-step.
    He drank in the assortment of women, from the tall redhead in the far corner to a cluster of twenty-something blondes near the pool table, to a long-haired brunette standing by the bar. It was a smorgasbord—just what he needed to sate the damned hunger clawing at his gut.
    Fixing his gaze on the brunette, he headed for the bar. Her name was Jeanine and she was a waitress in one of the nearby towns. She’d had a rough day, several asshole customers, not nearly enough tips and she was desperate to blow off some steam.
    As the thoughts registered, he shook his head. He wasn’t sure if he would ever get used to reading people’s minds. At the same time, it definitely came in handy—he didn’t have to talk to her to know that she wanted only sex.
    She had enough complications in her life with her job, two kids and a deadbeat ex she fought with constantly.
    She wanted a little fun, and Matt was just the man to give it to her.
    The truth blazed in her eyes as he stepped up beside her and signaled the bartender for a beer.
    “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” Her soft wordsslid into his ears, but oddly enough it didn’t stir the expected zing of excitement. “I’m from Carson Pass just a few miles up the road. My place isn’t far.” Her eyes twinkled. “I could give you a tour.” And a helluva lot more .
    She wanted to strip naked and ride him all night. The image was there in her head. The two of them naked and hot and sweaty. He’d clasp her hips and work her body while she writhed and moaned and exploded around him.
    Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, echoing in his ears and drowning out the sound of an old Brooks & Dunn song that had just started up. She licked her lips and her chest heaved as she drew an extra breath.
    Watching the luscious lift of her breasts beneath the ultra tight tank top, he braced himself for the sudden tightening in his gut as desire sliced through him so sharp and sweet and demanding. The way it had with Shay the moment she’d opened the door to him that evening.
    Instead, he felt only the slightest twinge.
    Because he didn’t want this woman. Or the blonde standing near the juke box. Or the