Cowgirl Up and Ride (Rough Riders #3)(4)

With the exception of those unbelievably hot legs.


Every wicked undulation of her hips resulted in the fringe on her skirt swishing across the back of her firm thighs. He’d never been jealous of a skirt before now, but he sure as hell was right then.


“She seein’ the guy she’s dancin’ with?”


“Mikey? Nah. Not for lack of tryin’ on his part. AJ doesn’t lack for partners.”


“I’ll bet.”


“She’s sweet as the day is long. How your sister hasn’t corrupted her is beyond me.


She ain’t as wild as Keely, but ain’t for want of volunteers to take her for a walk on the wild side.”


Walk? Hell, Cord would take her for a ride on the wild side. Binding her mile-long legs around his waist as he drove into her hard and fast. Feeling those slender thighs draped over his shoulders as she rode his face.


Jesus. Been an ice age since he’d had a woman, especially a buckle bunny cowboy-toy like her—built for speed with curves that’d lead a man straight into temptation.


Cord nursed his beer, his eyes never straying from her twisting form. Still, something about her seemed…familiar.


AJ threw back her head and laughed. Her straw hat tumbled to the floor.


Come on, baby doll, bend over and pick it up.


She twirled his direction and Cord finally saw her face.


If his lips weren’t pressed against the beer bottle, his jaw would’ve smacked his knees.


The blonde sexpot with the killer legs and fantastic ass was none other than little Amy Jo Foster. His astonished gaze zeroed in on the cleavage spilling out of her V-necked blouse.


Nothing little about her now.


Talk about degenerate behavior. He’d been ogling his much-younger sister’s best friend. His son’s former babysitter.


Christ on a crutch.


Good thing she’d never waltzed into his house dressed like that—a sex kitten on the prowl. He’d’ve been arrested for his lewd thoughts alone. Dammit, why couldn’t he stop wondering whether her nipples were pale pink like her lips or cherry red like her undies?


Amy Jo’s large silvery-gray eyes met his for a moment. The come-hither smolder she aimed at him nearly knocked him off his damn barstool.


Where’d she learn that “f*ck me now, Big Daddy” stare? She was too damn young.


She’s old enough.


And he was old enough to know better.


Wasn’t he?


Apparently not.


Amy Jo shrieked as Mikey lifted her up, gifting Cord with another glimpse of those sexy panties.


Cord bristled at seeing Amy Jo manhandled. Oh, he’d teach that pup with the roving paws a thing or two about manners.


Right. You’d love a chance to teach her a thing or two about how a real man would handle her.


Before Cord’s butt left the chair to rescue her, Amy Jo broke Mikey’s hold and stooped over to retrieve her hat. This time when their eyes met, she licked her lips and smiled seductively. Wantonly. Like she was picturing him buck-assed nekkid in just his damn hat.


Another wave of lust heated his balls. Then he knew the kiss she’d given him at Carter and Macie’s wedding reception last year hadn’t been a result of too much champagne.


His brain flashed back to the wedding dance at the Bar 9. The early autumn night held a bite of chill as the evening’s festivities were winding down. Dozens of couples boot-scooted on an improvised dance floor beneath a white tent. He’d drifted off, preferring to drink a Fat Tire beer alone. Amusing himself by watching Ky and a couple of boys chasing giggling girls around in the preschool version of two-stepping.