Tiffany Blackburn couldn’t believe what occurred during her recent vacation in Vegas. The careful, single mom decided to let loose and took a risk for once, allowing a man to buy her a whiskey sour. Regretting it the moment she woke up alone in a stranger’s bed the next day. Naked. It only got worse, when she tried to sneak out and discovered something he left on the table. His wedding ring.
Jagger Chance never failed to deliver when he was working undercover as a spy for the government. Women found him sexy and mysterious, which the loner preferred. He was happy to take risks bringing down notorious criminals but never with his heart. Until one night in Vegas, after a lot of drinks and a beautiful woman too sweet to resist, suddenly risking his heart to say ‘I do’ didn’t seem like a bad idea.
She raised hers too and just before taking a sip, she stopped when she looked into the cup. “It’s green.”
I nodded. “Yeah, because it’s St. Patrick’s Day. They dye the river green.”
I waved toward the window even though we were nowhere near the Chicago River.
Tiffany frowned. “You know Blackburn isn’t my maiden name. It’s Ryan.”
“Okay,” I said and took a sip from the cup.
“Dying things green doesn’t mean it’s Irish.” She folded her arms in front of her chest, plumping up her tits. It caused me to stare. She was wearing a tank top, it would be impossible for me not to stare.
“Uh huh.” I nodded not really listening to what she was saying anymore.
“I’ll drink this beer because it’s beer and I’m thirsty, but know I do it in protest.” She pulled her hair back as she drank from the cup.
I watched her chest rise and fall in between sips.
She was so sexy, even drinking green beer while packing.
Tiffany drained the cup and let out a loud belch, slamming the cup down on the side table. She held up a finger and said, “One point.”
I blamed her son. David and Henrik expanded on the fart game they made up to include burps. Tiffany told me she was grossed out at first by the game but was gassy one night and decided to play. She’s been champion ever since.
“You know how sexy I find you when you release bodily gases,” I said as I blinked at her.
She smirked. “You’re just jealous because you can’t beat me.”
Tiffany picked up the tape dispenser. “David conveniently had to help his friend, Diego, with a class project. So, it’s just you and me moving the boxes when we finish packing up.”
“It might be more purposely, than conveniently.” I put my cup on her dresser and stepped closer as she finished sliding the tape along the seam of a box.
She put down the tape dispenser on the table and turned to me with her hands on her hips.
“Did you tell David to stay away on moving day?”
“Possibly,” I said slowly moving closer to her.
“Possibly?” Tiffany asked.
I reached over and slid my hands around her waist.
“Probably?” She tilted her chin up and curled the corner of her sexy mouth.
“Definitely,” I said as I watched her eyes darken.
“Definit—” I cut her off as my hand cupped her neck and my mouth brushed over hers.
She tasted like madness and as my fingers slid over her skin, her shudder felt like the sweetest indulgence. I pushed her back onto the bed and dropped to my knees.
“You’re so easy,” I said as my fingers crawled slowly, but intently, until my hands had completely unbutton, unzipped, and pulled off her jeans.
Then I spread her legs.
Elizabeth Lynx writes romantic comedy with steam. She’s a recovering comedian. Wife and mother of the male species. Believer in love & laughter. Her life consists of preventing small catastrophes and wondering if a day will exist when she doesn’t have to fold laundry.