At least they were bootcut and not those damned skinny leg jeans that men were wearing these days. He had no idea how men wore those damned jeans. He’d feel like he was in a sausage casing. One thing was for sure the men that wore those type of jeans like Paulo, didn’t wear cowboy boots with them. Boots would never fit under the tight legs.
Dean put his legs in the jeans then pulled them up. To get them buttoned he had to suck in and lean back against the vanity. Before he zipped them he had to rearrange things to make sure the zipper didn’t catch anything important. God if a man got excited in these jeans, there would definitely be trouble, he thought, as he finally got the zipper up and looked down at himself.
They were too tight, he decided, patting his ass and not feeling an inch of give in the material. He ran his thumb along the waistband and there was no room there either. Surely, that woman Belinda had brought more than one pair. Tina had sent a tailor out Wednesday to take his measurements, but the guy must’ve gotten the numbers wrong. Dean shoved his undershirt into the waistband of the jeans, put on his boots then opened the door. He walked back down the hall to the living room of the bunkhouse. Belinda was talking to Hope and Tina, so he just walked over there.
“These pants are too tight,” Dean complained and all three women swung around to face him. He figured they must’ve realized it too, because as a group they gasped and put their hands to their chests. He even heard a whimper from over by the sofa that had to come from Paulo. “I’m gonna bust out of these if I breath too deeply. Get me another pair,” Dean said shortly.
Tina broke from the others to walk over and slowly circle him, inspecting him like she would a side of beef. That’s exactly what he felt like right then with the petite brunette’s hot eyes on his body. Uncomfortable, Dean shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“They’re perfect,” she said softly, as she stopped to face him.
Her gray eyes made it up as far as his mouth and lingered a second, before her gaze tracked back down his throat, moved slowly over his chest down his legs to his toes. “Perfect,” she repeated. On the return trip up his body, her eyes lingered for a moment at his crotch. That look he’d seen in her eyes the other day when she was moving the car came back. Interest. Desire.
Dean quickly found out that he was right about the lack of stretch in those jeans. Tina might as well have actually touched him there considering his reaction. That thought made him harder. “Get me another pair of damned jeans!” he demanded as he turned away quickly before anyone noticed his problem.
He strode back down the hallway, and slammed the bathroom door behind him. Leaning back against it, he shut his eyes. He’d had a fucking hard on since he met that woman. Her staring at him like that when he hadn’t had sex in three fucking years wasn’t helping his problem. He hadn’t taken the edge off in a long time either.
Why did his damned sex drive have to come out of hibernation now? And why because of a woman he did nothing but argue with? Because even though his mind might resist the idea of being attracted to the tiny spitfire, his body was definitely there.
Big time, he thought looking down at the straining zipper on the jeans.
He kept feeling her soft skin against his palm when he took off her boots, and wondering if the rest of her shapely body was just as warm and silky. Wondered if the tips of her perky breasts were dusky pink or coral colored. And how they would taste. The tip of his tongue tingled, and Dean got so hard, he really did think he might break the zipper out of those jeans.
And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. This photo shoot was about to go to hell in a handbasket. Dean was about to be humiliated too. He knew someone would probably be knocking on that door soon, expecting him to come back out there. When he did, the whole crew was in for a surprise. Unless he did something to fix the situation himself.
Dean unzipped the jeans, and shoved them down his legs, grabbed the hand towel off the rack beside the sink, then shuffled over to sit on edge of the tub. He jerked his underwear down and fisted himself. Sitting sideways he leaned back against the wall, straddled the tub edge and closed his eyes. He gripped his painful erection, and stroked himself, as he pictured Tina Montgomery using that beautiful mouth of hers on him. Dean held back a moan, his breathing hitched, and his heart beat an unsteady rhythm in his chest.
With each stroke, each fantasy he indulged, the tension inside him ratcheted up. Pleasure built, his balls tightened and he moaned, damned close to coming when the bathroom door opened. A soft gasp followed, and his eyes flew open to see the woman he was fantasizing about standing there, looking as embarrassed as he felt right then.
God, he wished someone would just shoot him. Put him out of his misery. His face felt like it was on fire as he threw the hand towel over his lap and sat up.
“Um, I was just coming to see what was taking so long,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She waved her hand, put it to her cheek then shook her head and dragged her eyes toward the toilet. “You just, ah…finish up…and I’ll be out there,” she said without looking at him. Tina crawfished back out of the door and pulled it shut. Dean just sat there with his heart pounding in his ears, more embarrassed than he’d ever been in his life.