Lindsey Brookes

“How upset is she?” “Let me put it this way,” his brother began, “All the shit you’ve shoveled from stalls in your life is nothing compared to how deep you’re in it now.”

“Fifty minutes, huh?” he muttered. “Too long?” she managed with a teasing smile, knowing she longer had the strength to turn him away. She wanted Dalton to make love to her again. Needed him to. He arched a brow. “You questioning my stamina?” Laughing softly, she reached for his shirt, pulling him to her. “Not on your life. I know better. I was just thinking that for a man who spent years perfecting the eight second ride, fifty minutes might be quite a stretch.” Threading his fingers through her hair, he looked down at her. “The stretching part is no longer in question. Hell, much longer and it’s gonna take a crow bar to get me out of these jeans.” “Then what are you waiting for?”

“If you were trying to startle us half to death, you succeeded,” she told him as she closed the distance between them.He responded with an angry growl, “The only thing I was trying to do was cool my a..., er, butt off.” “What?” Not the reply she had expected to get from him. “Those little shits,” he huffed, pointing in the direction of the boys’ cabins, “slipped Ex-Lax into my coffee this morning!” “How do you know it’s not just a stomach bug?” He grunted his impatience. “Because I discovered the laxative box in the boys’ bathroom garbage, alongside the empty jar of Icy Hot those delinquents thought would be funny to smear all over the toilet seat in the boys’ bathroom.” Water ran down his tanned face, spewing from his lips as he ranted angrily. No wonder Dalton had virtually flew, pants half undone, into the lake. Her lips began to twitch. This isn’t funny, she told herself. “Are you okay?” Was he okay? Dalton arched a wet brow. “My innards aren’t threatening to combust any longer, but my ass is still burning.”

“The question is are you okay?” he asked, looking down at her with concern. “That was quite a spill you took.” “I...I’m fine.” Her gaze centered on his mouth. Then, she did the most torturous thing she could have done to a man whose lower torso was pressed against hers and whose mouth was just a few scant inches from those fleshy, pink lips. She ran her tongue across her lips to wet them. And he thought super glue got hard fast.”

“The woman must look like the weathered side of a rotted fence post if she had to get a man this way.”

“I can assure you that your underwear is safe around me. I prefer having the little fruit on the underwear I’m wearing than to BE a big fruit in them.”

“You think it’s funny?” Shay said with annoyance. “Yes.” Her friend paused to get her laughter under control. “I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re the last person in the world I’d ever imagine marrying again after ol’ Mr. Flaccid Flagpole.”

“Chase? He actually said that to you?” She frowned. “Yes.” “When?” “When we were in bed.” “Great timing,” Dee muttered. “Just like a man. We’ll just file him away under D for dumb ass and move on. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Or better yet, S for sicko.”