A Wild Fright in Deadwood (Deadwood Humorous Mystery Book 7) by Ann Charles

of his skin made my pulse start to skip and whistle.
    “Have you seen anyone else with that goat-melting-into-a-pig tattoo Lila had?” he asked.
    “No. But I’ll start keeping an eye out now.”
    “I’ll do the same at the Rec Center. Tattoos are very visible there between the exercise room and pool.”
    I looped my arms around his neck. “Of course you’ll only look for these tattoos on the men.”
    He chuckled. “Of course.” His hands moved up my ribs, the heels of his palms brushing along the sides of my bra. “I don’t want to leave you tonight.”
    That made two of us. “Why do I hear a ‘but’ in there?”
    “But I have to head down to Hill City in the morning for work, so I need some sleep.”
    This wouldn’t be a problem if we moved in with Doc. He wouldn’t have to leave me until morning light. But how could I begin to broach that subject when I couldn’t get up the nerve yet to tell the guy I was in love with him.
    “You could stay in my bed, wake up early, and then go home to shower and shave before hitting the road.”
    “Tempting.” He leaned down and kissed me, taking his time about it, like he was in no rush to finish any time this evening. When he finally pulled back, I hung from his neck like a weak-kneed groupie.
    “Where did you learn to kiss like that?” My lips pulsed still, pumped up and ready for more.
    “I took an online course.”
    I giggled and fanned myself, trying to lasso my heart and drag it back into its stall. “You must have seduced a lot of women in your time with those lips.”
    I knew a certain redhead who couldn’t stop obsessing about him. The longer I was with Doc, the more I understood why. Had he kissed Tiffany that way?
    “Not really.” He traced my jawline. “You inspire me, Boots.”
    “Yeah, well,” I love you, “better a great kiss than some mediocre poetry.”
    “What? You don’t want any sonnets extolling your beauty?”
    “I’d rather have more kisses.”
    “Me, too. That’s why I can’t stay in your bed tonight. There’s no way I’ll get much sleep and we both know that. It’s been too long since I’ve had you all to myself.”
    “What good is sleep? I’m saving it for when I’m dead.” I let out a short, hard laugh. “Which could be sooner rather than later at the rate I’m going.”
    “That’s what scares me, Killer.” His tone was suddenly serious.
    This time when he kissed me, there was more urgency. His touch was rougher, more demanding. His hands spanned my hips and then gripped me tight, his body hard against mine, aggressive and demanding.
    I let him mold me against him, moaning when his hands slipped under my shirt and moved northward. “Doc,” I gasped up at the porch ceiling. “Take me to bed.”
    “We can’t.” His thumbs stroked over the front of my bra. “You said yourself that your kids have big ears.”
    “I can be quiet.” At least I could try.
    He groaned at the press of my hand at his zipper. “I can’t.”
    “But I want you to touch me.” I whispered in his ear where and how and then nibbled my way down to his collarbone.
    He pulled back like he’d been burned and grasped my shoulders, pushing me back a step. His ragged breathing matched mine. “You’re making it damned near impossible to say no.”
    “So don’t.” If this relationship was going to continue into something more serious and long-term, we’d need to find a way to play around under the same roof as the kids. Other parents somehow managed; we could, too.
    “If I didn’t have a box of paperwork to go through tomorrow, I’d take you up on your offer.” He raked his fingers through his hair, looking out toward the street. “Are you going to be okay here on your own tonight?”
    Not really, and that had nothing to do with wanting to have sex with him. The night stretched out before me long and exhausting, promising plenty of worry fueled nightmares, but I couldn’t bring myself to push for him to stay. He had clients