Her Filthy Cowboy (Fit Mountain Cowboys #2)

4. Savannah

Chapter Four

SAVANNAH

All eyes are on us as Brody takes my hand and leads me out onto the dance floor. I adjust his cowboy hat on my head, secretly loving how it feels.

When I came out tonight, the last thing I expected was to end up in Brody’s arms.

All I wanted was a cold drink and a few hours away from my overbearing family. I figured that a Thursday night at a local bar would be the perfect way to unwind.

But of course, Brody had to show up and ruin my plans.

Or make them infinitely better, depending on how you look at it.

Now he’s wrapping one arm around my waist as he pulls me close and I can’t help but inhale the intoxicating scent of leather and pine that clings to his skin. My body molds against his chest as we begin to sway to the slow rhythm of the music.

As we turn, I notice a group of slack-jawed women huddled together near the bar, their eyes glued to Brody and me.

Part of me wants to gloat, to revel in the fact that Brody chose me over all of them. But another part of me still can’t quite believe this is happening. That Brody Clayton, the most eligible bachelor in Fit Mountain, is dancing with me in front of everyone.

“People are staring at us,” I whisper. I can practically feel their eyes boring into my back.

Brody just smirks, completely unconcerned. “Let them stare. I’m right where I want to be.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. Dancing with the most gorgeous woman in the room.”

His hand slides lower, fingers splaying across my hip.

Every hard ridge of his body presses against my softness, and I have to bite back a moan. If his hand moved just a few inches, he could touch me right where I’m suddenly aching for him.

“What are you thinking about?” Brody murmurs into my ear.

I bite my lip, debating how honest to be. “I’m thinking about how I shouldn’t enjoy this as much as I do.”

He tightens his hand on my waist. “And why’s that?”

“You know why. This—us—it’s complicated.”

“Only if we let it be.”

I want to argue, to list all the reasons why this is a bad idea. But with his body pressed against mine and his scent enveloping me, I can’t remember a single one of them.

So instead I change the subject. “What are you thinking?”

Brody slides his hand up my back and threads his fingers into my hair beneath the cowboy hat. He angles my face to his, our lips a mere breath apart.

“I’m thinking that you look good in my hat.”

Heat rushes through me at his words and his touch. I can’t think straight when he’s this close.

I swallow hard, my body trembling against his. “Maybe I’ll keep it.”

His eyes drop to my mouth. “Maybe I’ll let you.”

And then he kisses me.

I’ve always wondered what it would feel like to be kissed senseless on a dance floor while an old country song played in the background. Now I know.

And it’s even better than I imagined.

Brody’s lips move skillfully over mine, his tongue teasing and tasting. He kisses me like he’s been starving for it, like he wants to devour me whole. And I let him. I open for him, welcoming the deep thrust of his tongue, the nip of his teeth.

I slide my hands up his chest to grip his broad shoulders, holding on for dear life as he expertly explores my mouth. He tastes like whiskey and temptation. I can’t get enough.

Every swipe of his tongue against mine sends a little zing of pleasure straight to my clit. Liquid heat pools low in my belly, and my thighs clench with need. I’ve never been so thoroughly kissed in my life.

When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard. Brody’s hand slides from my waist to the small of my back. “I’m taking you home.”

“Oh, I can call a cab?—”

“Not a chance.”

Brody keeps his hand on my back as he leads me off the dance floor. We pass by a booth where Brody’s brothers and Melody are watching us with amused expressions.

“I’m taking Savannah home.” Brody nods at Luke. “You good to drive everybody else back?”

Luke grins, a knowing glint in his eye. “Yeah, I’m good. You two go on ahead.”

Wyatt chuckles, his arm draped around Melody’s shoulders. “We should probably get going too. This one is practically falling asleep over here.” He tilts his head toward Melody, who is leaning heavily against his side, her eyelids drooping.

Melody rouses herself enough to protest. “I am not.” But then, as if on cue, a sleepy yawn escapes her lips.

Wyatt shakes his head, an indulgent smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Come on, Princess, let’s get you home.”

In one smooth motion, he scoops Melody into his strong arms. She lets out a little squeak of surprise before looping her arms around his neck and snuggling into his broad chest.

The crisp night air hits my face as we step outside the bar and I shiver a little. Brody must notice because he shrugs off his thick ranch jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. The heavy material envelops me, surrounding me with his scent and his warmth.

“You don’t have to do that. I’m fine, really.”

Brody opens the passenger door for me. “I like seeing you in my clothes.”

My belly flutters at his words and the heated look in his eyes. I climb up into the cab of his truck, trying not to think about how intimate it feels to be wearing his hat and jacket, to have his scent wrapped around me.

The drive back to my house is both too long and too short.

Brody keeps his hand on my thigh as he drives, the heat of his touch seeping through my jeans. The weight of it feels possessive. Like he’s staking his claim on me for all the world to see. Or at least anyone who happens to glance into the cab of his truck.

Part of me wants it to last forever, to stay cocooned in this moment. But another part is desperate to escape the tension simmering between us before I do something reckless. Like climb into his lap and beg him to have his way with me.

By the time Brody pulls into my driveway, my body is wound tight with anticipation and nerves.

“Wait there.” He puts the truck in park. “I’ll get your door.”

He hops out and walks around to my side, then opens the door and offers me his hand. I take it and let him help me down.

“Thanks for driving me home,” I say as we walk side by side up the porch steps. I lick my lips nervously and reach up to take off his cowboy hat. “I should probably give this back to you.”

But Brody’s hand shoots out, his fingers circling my wrist to stop me. “Keep them. They look better on you anyway.”

Then he leans down and brushes his lips against mine in a soft kiss.

This one is different than the one he gave me at the bar. It’s less urgent but more tender and still makes my knees embarrassingly wobbly.

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against mine, his hand cupping my cheek. “Good night, Savannah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Brody.”

I watch him walk away, my heart racing. As soon as he’s out of sight, I fumble with my keys and rush inside.

My mind is reeling. I lean against the closed door, touching my lips where I can still feel the pressure of Brody’s kiss.

“How was Pitcher’s Brew?”

The deep, amused voice startles me, and I nearly jump out of my skin. My eyes dart to the living room, where my brother Liam is lounging on the couch.

I clutch my chest, willing my racing heart to calm down. “Liam! You scared me half to death. What are you doing here?”

He ignores my question, his gaze zeroing in on the cowboy hat and jacket I’m wearing. “I’d imagine Pitcher’s Brew was more than satisfactory, considering you’re wearing Brody Clayton’s clothes.”

My cheeks flush with embarrassment. “How did you know they were his?”

Liam chuckles darkly and holds up his phone. “It’s all over social media. Apparently you two put on quite the show tonight.”

My stomach drops, and I fumble for my phone with shaking hands. Sure enough, when I open up Instagram, I’m greeted with photos of Brody and me. Dancing, him putting his hat on my head, walking out of the bar together.

I groan, rubbing my temples. This is a disaster. If my parents see these...

“I also heard you’re writing a story about him now.” Liam crosses his arms over his chest. “Getting real close to the enemy, aren’t you?”

I grit my teeth, silently cursing small-town gossip. “He’s not the enemy. And what I do with my personal life is none of your business.”

“The hell it isn’t. You’re my sister. And Brody Clayton is a cocky bastard who’s hated our family for years.” Liam stands up and tosses his phone on the couch. “What are you thinking, Savannah?”

“I’m thinking that I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions.” I curl my hands into fists at my sides.

“Not when those decisions could affect our whole family.”

Anger surges through me at Liam’s words. I step toward him, glaring up into his face. “How dare you. My writing has nothing to do with our family. This is about my career. I’m doing an important story.”

“Right.” He scoffs. “Important. Is that what you call rubbing up on Brody Clayton in a bar for everyone to see? You’re making a fool of yourself over that arrogant prick.”

“I’m not a fool. And I’m not ‘rubbing up’ on anyone. We danced together, so what? It’s not a crime.”

Liam’s jaw clenches. “It is when he’s a Clayton. Have you forgotten what that family has done to us? To Dad? Where’s your loyalty, Savannah?”

“Ugh! When are you going to let go of this stupid feud? It’s ancient history.”

“That feud is our legacy. Grandpa Sullivan?—”

“Is dead.” My words are harsh, I know. “Along with whatever imagined slight started this whole thing. It’s time to move on.”

Liam sets his jaw stubbornly. “Brody is only interested in one thing when it comes to you. And it sure as hell isn’t an interview for some fluff piece.”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know him.”

“I know his type. Hell, I’ve been his type.” Liam runs a hand through his hair in frustration. “He’s going to chew you up and spit you out.”

“I’m a big girl, Liam. I can take care of myself. I’m writing this article, and I’m going to keep seeing Brody. So you might as well get over it.” I square my shoulders and meet his gaze head-on. “Because there’s nothing you can do about it.”

With that, I turn on my heel and march upstairs.

I slam my bedroom door behind me and toss my purse onto my bed. Then I shrug out of Brody’s jacket and gently set his hat down on the shelf above it.

My phone buzzes with an incoming text. I dig my phone out of my pocket and see Brody’s name on the screen. My heart skips a beat as I open the message.

It’s a photo from tonight at the bar, clearly taken by someone else there. In it, Brody and I are facing each other on the dance floor. His cowboy hat sits atop my head, and we’re standing so close that our chests are nearly touching. My head is tilted back as I gaze up at him.

But it’s the look on Brody’s face that makes my heart stutter in my chest.

He’s gazing down at me with a hunger that scorches me to my core. There’s something else in his expression too, something tender and almost reverent. Like I’m precious to him.

Like I’m his entire world.

And that’s when I keep scrolling and notice the accompanying message from Brody below the photo.

It’s a single word.

Mine.