Blue Collar (A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology Book 2) Read online

  “Damn, have you got a fever?” He placed the back of his hand on her forehead before she had the good sense to shake him loose.

  “I don’t have a fever. Just…do the sweep so I can go back to my room.”

  He merely nodded, reaching for the hem of her shirt.

  She trembled as he lifted the worn cotton over her head, leaving her standing there in jeans and a lace bra. Large, calloused fingers skimmed across her flesh, cascading a rash of goosebumps down her limbs.

  “Still sensitive, I see.” He stopped near her right hip. “What’s this?”

  She dropped her gaze to a bluish patch of skin. “Probably just a bruise from the seatbelt. It doesn’t really hurt.”

  “That seems to be your default answer. But just to be safe…”

  He thumbed open the button on her jeans, lowering the zipper then shoving the denim gently over her hips.

  She snagged her bottom lip, trying not to shake under his perusal as he bent to get a closer look.

  He smoothed his fingers around the area. “The skin’s bruised, but it doesn’t seem too serious. Still won’t be pleasant. What about your ribs?” He pushed on the skin above the mark. “Does this hurt?”

  She swallowed against the rush of need, doing her best to focus on what he’d asked her. But all that registered was the soft glide of Casey’s hand along her flesh, and the warm flutter of anticipation in her stomach. She searched for the anger still seething below the surface, but even it faded beneath the sensuous feel of his fingers along her torso and the firm press of his body against hers as he wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her close.

  Juliet dragged her gaze upward, inhaling at the white-hot desire shading his eyes. His free hand found her hair, his fingertips scraping across her scalp before settling on the back of her head. He glanced at her mouth, smiling when her lips parted in invitation.

  Casey closed the distance, his breath feathering across her cheek. “I realize there’re a thousand reasons why kissing you is a colossal mistake, but damned if I can think of one. So either tell me to fuck off, or…”

  She stared, aware she should say something, when his smile flourished and he slanted his lips over hers. Any objections vanished as he tilted back her head and deepened the kiss.

  Casey Monroe was a fool. A fool for ever letting Juliet get away, and an even bigger fool for thinking he stood a chance at winning her back. He’d tried to reconnect with her several times already but hadn’t figured out how to bridge the distance. How to atone. Having her walk through his door... Her appearance had felt like an act of providence. Until he’d panicked and found ways to avoid her. But now here he was, with Jules wrapped in his arms, her lips damp from their kiss, and all because of some freak accident.

  Anger roiled beneath his skin. She could have gotten herself killed, yet she seemed completely indifferent to the fact. And how could she act so nonchalant about being shot? Just the thought of it burned his blood until he had to soothe his unrest with the silky glide of her skin. She gave a low, throaty hum as he nipped his way down her neck before easing back, giving her just enough room to catch her breath. Her eyelids fluttered, revealing glimpses of crystal blue irises amidst pale skin. The light blush on her cheeks added a splash of color, the red tinge fading down her neck and onto her chest.

  He held her close, drinking in the floral scent of her perfume. Her rough gasps sounded between them, her lust-filled gaze finally settling on his. She lifted one hand and tunneled it through his hair, as if needing to anchor herself.

  He trailed his fingers up her side, tracing the soft curve of her breast. Her nipples pebbled against her bra, the firm tips pressing into his chest. Her lips parted on a low moan, and he dipped down, taking her mouth for a second time.

  Juliet’s grip tightened, the slight sting urging him on. He’d purposely grown out his hair in an effort to leave that facet of his life behind. Help him blend into civilian life. Though, he hadn’t anticipated how fucking hot it would be to have Jules wrap her delicate fingers around the strands as he ate at her mouth.

  “God, Casey.”

  He chuckled at the hushed rasp of his name, kissing his way to the edge of her bra. He sucked at the tight bud through the fabric before tugging down the cup—finally drawing the peak into his mouth. Her skin warmed beneath his touch, and he couldn’t wait to rub every inch of their flesh together. He’d chase away the chill she’d gotten walking back to the cabin.

  Juliet arched against him, her frantic breathing matching the jerky rise and fall of her chest. A tremble shook through her, and he glanced up at her face. Head tilted back, eyes squeezed shut, she looked ready to fly apart.

  Casey licked his way to her chin, nipping at her bottom lip until she gazed at him. “Fuck, you’re beautiful. You sure you’re up for this? You’re not too dizzy? You don’t hurt too much from that damn tree?”

  Lines creased her forehead.

  Her confusion showed clear in her expression.

  “I can stop—”

  “Stop? I swear to God, Casey, if you stop…leave me like this…I won’t be the one handcuffed to the damn chair.”

  “Oh, sweetheart. I love that you think you could wrestle me into submission. I tell you what. You be a good girl and unravel against my tongue, and I’ll consider holding still for you…next time.”

  As her breath hitched, she moistened her lips. “Damn.”

  “Oh, we haven’t quite gotten to damn, yet. But soon.”

  He lifted her then spun, covering the short space over to the chair. She squealed as he shoved her onto the cushion. While the bed was just as close, he wanted something hotter. And the way she’d reacted when he’d mentioned tying her to the chair seemed more in line with that, even if he didn’t restrain her this time.

  He moved away enough to yank off her boots and finish undressing her, leaving her poised on the chair completely nude. His heart raced as he took her in. The smooth expanse of skin, the flex of her muscles. A scar marred her flesh on her left side, the telltale pucker reigniting his anger.

  He tsked as he traced the welt. “You’re lucky you didn’t die.”

  Something flashed in her eyes, but it faded quickly. “I’m not the only one with scars. Now are you fucking me or just talking?”

  “Are you sassing me? Dangerous, sweetheart, especially with your body so eager to come.”

  Her gaze dropped to where his cock pressed against his fly. “I’m not the only one.”

  “Fucking right.” He dropped to his knees, draping her thighs over his shoulders. “But I can wait. You, on the other hand, are dripping down your thighs.”

  “Must you be so smug…yes.”

  Her words hissed into a moan as he swiped his tongue along her cleft, her sweet flavor bursting in his mouth. Damn, he’d missed this. Missed her. The way her entire body reacted to his touch. The flex of her fingers against his scalp, or how she murmured his name as if it were a prayer. And he knew he wouldn’t have the strength to lose her again.

  Casey pushed aside the thoughts. He could figure that out later. Right now, all that mattered was having her drench his tongue. Pulse around his fingers as he sank two inside her pussy, crooking them in order to rub her G-spot.

  “Damn, I’m not going to last.”

  He gently nipped at her clit, smiling when she arched against his face. “Fight it, Jules. I need more time. More you.”

  She tensed at his words then surrendered, tilting her hips in an effort to take him deeper.

  A new rush of moisture slicked her flesh, drowning his senses with her earthy musk as he lapped at her folds, avoiding her clit just enough to keep her poised on the edge.

  Casey urged her closer, and she ground her cleft against his mouth as his other hand smoothed up her ribs and cupped her breast. He pinched the tight bud, moaning at the ragged shout of his name. This is how he wanted her. Raw. Vulnerable. Completely his. Her breathing quickened, her muscles flexing beneath him before she broke, contracting around
his fingers as her release flooded his tongue.

  He hummed, wishing he could lick her through another orgasm. Instead, he yanked off his shirt and shoved his jeans over his hips, grabbing his wallet before it thunked to the floor. He removed a condom, hoping it hadn’t expired, then sheathed himself as he kicked free of his boots and pants. Jules watched him, eyes still lust-glazed, chest heaving. She reached for his cock, but he batted away her hand, scooping her up then switching their positions. She inhaled as he draped her legs over the armrests, leaning forward so she could wrap her fingers around his neck.

  “Damn it, Casey. I want a turn.”

  “As much as I’d love to have your mouth all over me, I won’t last. I…”

  He couldn’t finish. How did he say he needed to feel her surround him—watch her give herself to him again—more than he needed his own release? Her eyes narrowed then rolled back as he snugged his shaft at her pussy.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she rocked her hips, taking him all the way inside.

  Casey drew her forward until their foreheads touched, keeping them locked together as he helped her ride his cock. “That’s it. Take me deep. Fuck yourself on me. I want to feel you come all over me. We can go slower next time.”

  Shit, those words again. Next time. When had this single encounter turned into needing her back in his life? He groaned inwardly. Simple. Since the moment he’d walked out.

  Juliet scratched at his skin, snapping him back. Her harsh breathing raked across his cheek as her body shuddered within his grasp. He claimed her mouth, swallowing the raspy moans escaping her lips as she stiffened within his arms, a series of ripples running along the length of his shaft.

  “Fuck, yeah. Now, sweetheart.”

  He wrapped one arm around her waist, holding her still as he pounded into her from beneath, the slick slide of his cock sounding around them.

  Her mouth fell to his shoulder, her teeth sinking into his muscle.

  The pressure set him off as his release shot along his spine, gathering in his balls until he thought they’d explode. Juliet shook in his arms then came, flooding his shaft with warm, wet fluid.

  Casey surrendered, no longer fighting the crushing pressure in his sac. His cock emptied into the condom as he shuddered through his orgasm. He tightened his hold around Jules as the room faded into the hot press of her skin against his and the gentle caress of her breath on his shoulder. Several minutes passed before he was able to open his eyes and assess the situation.

  Juliet’s head rested on his shoulder, one hand drawing patterns across his chest. He tried to judge her reaction by the shift of her body, but it was useless. All he could focus on was whether she’d give him a second chance or walk out the door as he’d done to her.

  He thumbed her cheek, waiting until she met his gaze. “You okay?”

  She shrugged, balancing against the chair when he helped her stand.

  The heady scent of sex infused the air, and Casey had to fight not to toss her on the bed for another round. They needed to talk. Hell, he needed to apologize.

  Juliet reached for her clothes.

  But he shook his head, handing her his shirt before disposing of the condom and tugging on his jeans. He turned to face her once he was ready, admiring the way his top matched the blue in her eyes. Her chin quivered when their gazes clashed before she drew herself up, the detective back in place.

  “Jules—”

  “Don’t. I knew what I was agreeing to, and…I’ll just go to my room.”

  “What?” He snagged her wrist before she could dart past him. “Did you honestly think I was brushing you off?”

  “You made it clear before that I wasn’t part of your future.”

  “I know. And I was wrong.” He carded his hand through his hair. “I’ve spent the past eighteen months lying to myself. Pretending I was learning to adapt, when all I was doing was hiding. From the memories. From you.”

  She toyed with the hem of the shirt before crossing her arms over her chest. “Why are you up here? I thought you were joining the family business. Helping your dad at his garage.”

  “I tried, but… Turns out having your mechanic dive for cover every time a car backfires isn’t great for business. Thankfully, Russell had an opening at the inn, and… I like it here. Working with my hands. The quiet. And it’s not that far driving into town, so…”

  “God, Casey, why didn’t you tell me you were having flashbacks? Shit, all those nights—you were having nightmares, weren’t you? Is that why you pushed me away? Did you think I wouldn’t understand?”

  He lunged, sandwiching their hands together. “The reason I left...it wasn’t you. I knew you’d stand by me. I just…I couldn’t drag you down into that hell. I thought I was doing what was best for the woman I loved, but it turns out...I was being a coward.”

  Tears gathered in her eyes. “Why tell me all of this now? Is it to make this one-off seem less cheap?”

  He chuckled. God, he’d missed her. “You haven’t changed a bit. Still all teeth and claws.”

  “Casey—”

  “Ignoring the fact that I owed you far more than just an explanation…” He took a deep breath, knowing he had to put it all on the line or forever live with the regret. “I can make a life. Learn to deal with my past, but without you…it’ll be empty at best.” He smiled as her eyes rounded and her mouth hinged open. “I’m asking for a second chance. To do things right. I know it’ll take time to earn back your trust, but I promise…I won’t let you down, again.”

  Some of the tears slipped down her cheek before she swallowed, cocking her eyebrow. “A second chance, huh?”

  “To start fresh. Or pick up from before. I don’t care as long as I have you.” He reached forward and tucked a few golden strands of hair behind her ear. “I love you, Jules. Never stopped.”

  She quirked her lips. “Then, I guess it’s lucky that I bumped into Sheriff Johnson on my way up here. Seems he’s retiring, and he thinks Fulton Springs could use someone like me at the helm.”

  Hope blossomed in Casey’s chest. “Is that right? But what about Seattle? I don’t want you to give up your dream for me. I can find a way to cope—”

  “You need to do more than cope. You said it yourself.” She feathered her fingers against his jaw. “You like it here.”

  “I love you more.”

  Her smile dropped his stomach. “I never wanted to leave this place. Not really. Besides, I might have told the sheriff I’d send him my resume. See if he could pull a few strings. It’s time I came home.”

  “Is that your subtle way of saying yes to giving us another chance?”

  “I’m thinking it wasn’t so subtle, but yeah. I never stopped loving you, either.” She palmed his chest when he tried to scoop her up. “But…if we’re going to make this work, no more secrets. I don’t expect you to forget your time in Afghanistan. To adjust without a few bumps. I just need you to trust me to have your back.”

  “Deal.” He winked. “Which means I have a promise to keep.” He moved over to the chair and reached backward, wrapping his arms around the back as he lowered onto the cushion. “I believe I promised I’d hold still. Those handcuffs of yours handy?”

  “I don’t need handcuffs to bind you, but since you asked…they’re in my jacket pocket.” She retrieved them, grinning as the cold metal closed around his wrists. “Don’t think this means you’re completely forgiven. You have a long road of groveling ahead.”

  “If that includes having you grind yourself on my face again, I’ll take my punishment like a man. Now…are you fucking me or just talking?”

  Shear Passion

  Belinda LaPage

  Sam was exuberant. Her first day as a shearer. Her first real day. She was ready. All she needed was Band-Aids. Dad’s mantra for farming was the Seven P’s—prior proper preparation prevents piss-poor performance—and she’d die before she tapped out with a blister.

  She pulled up her quad-bike at the Mudgiboora gen
eral store beside a shiny orange V8 Hilux with roll bars, spoilers, and about a hundred B&S ball decals on the back window. Bogan farmer obviously, but judging by the Queensland plates, not a local.

  The shop’s fly screen door banged open, and a dusty set of elastic-sided work boots stepped out.

  Oh my.

  Bogan farmer? Holy smokes, did I ever get that wrong.

  Stained work pants, blue singlet—you might mistake him for a bogan farmer. If you were blind. Or stupid. Because it was difficult to miss the chiselled vee of his shoulders, chest, and abs, and the clean, dark blond hair. Sam noticed all these things and several more besides.

  Quick, Sammy, think of something witty. “Hi,” she said, tilting her head to one side in an unconscious gesture of interest.

  He looked her up and down and offered a dimpled smile. “Nice bike,” he said, not looking at her quad-bike at all. “You don’t look much like a farmer.”

  “You don’t look much like a bogan.” Oh God, what’s wrong with me?

  His face clouded for a moment then he burst out laughing. “Bogan!” he cried, slapping his thigh. He looked from Sam to the hot Hilux. “Yeah, nah, I deserve that. So hey, you live in town?”

  “Just out of town.” Sam gestured vaguely over her shoulder without breaking eye contact, flattered and hypnotised by the searchlight attention of his gaze. “With my family.”

  “Shit out of luck. Makes sense, though. Gorgeous sheilas don’t stay single in the sticks.”

  He thinks I’m gorgeous. Wait...crap, he thinks I’m married. “No,” she blurted. “I meant, with my parents. Not a...you know...a family kind of family.” Oh, really smooth, Sam.

  “Huh.” He seemed to consider this as potentially useful but only mildly interesting information, like “petrol is cheapest on a Wednesday”. “So, a nice single girl in Mudgiboora...”

  He paused, looking for positive feedback, which Sam provided in spades with a beaming smile and almost neurotic blinking.