Read Online Texas Thunder by Kimberly Raye - Free Book Online

was desperately telling himself. But after twenty minutes spent convincing the feed store owner to extend his line of credit, he was starting to doubt himself. Things just kept growing and growing, getting heavier by the minute.
    In more ways than one, Brett thought as his gaze caught on the shapely curve of Callie’s ass beneath the clingy black material and he felt the tightening in his groin. She’d always been curvy, but a few pounds in all the right places made it even harder for him not to look.
    Not to want.
    â€œI’ll grab the rest of the boxes,” he blurted, eager to get a grip before he did something he would truly regret—like push her up against the nearest wall, pop those buttons on her dress, and see if her nipples were still as pink as he remembered. As tasty. He wasn’t here for that.
    Sure thing, buddy.
    The doubt dogged him as he headed back out to the truck. He spent the next five minutes hauling in the two boxes and doing his damnedest to ignore the blonde unpacking the carton of promotional water bottles nearby.
    â€œWhat next?” he asked when he’d deposited the last of the cardboard onto the floor.
    â€œYou can open up that other box with the rest of the water bottles. We’re going to stack some here”—she pointed to the table in the foyer—“and the rest are going in the kitchen.”
    He pulled out his pocket knife, sliced through the packing tape, and opened up the container, grateful to have something to focus on other than the woman moving about in his peripheral vision.
    Yep, she’d filled out in all the right places.
    She had more curves and damned if her legs weren’t longer than he remembered. He slid a glance to the side and caught a glimpse of one delicate ankle, a shapely calf. She wasn’t wearing any stockings and the urge to lean over and run his fingertips along her smooth flesh punched him hard and fast in the chest.
    He gripped one of the water bottles instead and focused all of his attention on stacking two dozen on the polished table, one after the other, at a record pace until the last one hit the wood and he turned to snatch up the box and head for the kitchen.
    The sweet peachy vanilla scent followed him, teasing his nostrils and stirring a whisper of awareness that settled at the back of his neck before creeping down along his spine.
    His ears tuned to the soft footsteps as she moved about the house, setting up fliers and distributing promotional products and he couldn’t help but wonder which room she was in, and what all he could do to her in each specific spot.
    He saw her draped across the sofa, her buttons popping and her lips parting as he leaned over her. Or bent over the staircase, his hands on her thighs as he pumped into her from behind. Or spread across a king-sized bed, her golden hair fanned out around her, her body so lush and open and—
    Aw, hell.
    He moved faster, emptying out the box and stacking the rest of the bottles. There. Done.
    Time to get the hell out of Dodge.
    He turned to see her standing in the doorway between the hallway and the kitchen. Her grass-green gaze collided with his for a second and she caught her bottom lip as if thinking of what to say next. Or fighting back what she really wanted to say.
    It was a sight that sucked him back in time to all those afternoons spent in the calculus lab, where she’d done her best to keep things strictly business while he’d flirted and talked and done his damnedest to get past the wall she’d built up around herself.
    The challenge. That’s what he’d told himself. She was a Tucker. The forbidden fruit. And Brett had been more than eager to take a great big bite. She’d turned him down that first time he’d asked her out, but he’d been persistent. He’d asked again. And again. And eventually she’d said yes.
    Despite her parents’ objection and the fit her granddaddy had thrown on the