Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

“Apparently,” he allowed.

She glanced down at her plate then inhaled deeply. “These really do smell great.”

“Taste them. They’re pretty good.”

She cut tentatively into one with her fork. “It’s been years since I’ve had maple syrup.”

“Welcome to the wild side.”

“I probably don’t need two.”

“You probably do.”

She lifted her fork to her mouth. “Here we go.”

He couldn’t believe she was making such a production out of it. But finally, she took a bite, chewed and swallowed.

“Oh, my,” she breathed. Her eyes sparkled and her red lips turned up in a beautiful smile.

Reed instantly lost his appetite for anything but her.

“Good?” he managed in a slightly strangled voice.

“Ambrosia.” She consumed another bite. “Who needs wine pairings anyway.”

“You like it on the wild side?” He didn’t intend it, but his tone turned the question into a double entendre.

She glanced up. Her expression stilled. Her gaze darkened. “Yes.”

Reed’s fork slipped from his fingertips, and his hands clenched into fists. Though his brain screamed no, his desire shouted it down. He gave in to his desire.

“Come here,” he commanded.

Her expression turned serious. She rose on her bare feet, moving toward him, draped in that boxy, oversize T-shirt. Her hair was stringy and wet, makeup smudged around her eyes, yet she still managed to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

He snagged her hand, eased his chair back, pulled her into his lap and captured her lips in one smooth motion. He wrapped one arm around her gorgeous body, cradling her face with his free hand as his lips and tongue plundered her mouth. He’d missed her taste so much. How on earth had he managed to stay away?

Her body curled against his bare chest, delicate hands wrapping around his back, their warmth all but burning his skin. She returned his kisses with passion and enthusiasm.

His fingertips found her bare thigh, trailing slowly beneath the hem of her shirt. It took him mere seconds to realize she was naked beneath, and he swore under his breath.

“What?” she breathed, her rear end pressing tightly against his growing arousal.

“I’m not stopping this time.” He kissed her again.

“I sure hope not.” She kissed him back.

“But this is a bad idea.” His mouth opened wide, and he all but devoured her.

When the kiss finally ended, she surprised him by turning in his lap, straddling him, her arms snaking around his neck, even as the tips of her breasts brushed against his chest. “I promise you,” she whispered huskily, her maple-sweet breath puffing against him. “The world will still be turning tomorrow morning.”

Reed didn’t doubt that was true. But he feared his own world might tip on its axis and never go back to right.

Then she kissed him again, and all reason left his brain.

He acted on instinct, moving his hands beneath her shirt, sliding along her sides, pushing the soft fabric higher and higher. They didn’t stop until he’d peeled it over her head, tossing it aside, gazing at her perfection for long, satisfying seconds before he wrapped her naked body in his arms.

“You are so incredibly gorgeous.” He kissed the tip of her shoulder, then the tender hollow of her neck.

“Does it matter?” she asked.

“That you’re gorgeous?” He brushed the pad of his thumb across her nipple.

She gasped. “Yes.”

He did it again.

“I meant-”

Again.

She groaned and arched her back, and he leaned down to kiss one hard pink nipple, drawing it into his mouth, swirling his tongue, finding immense satisfaction in the way her fingertips dug into his biceps.

But he forced himself to withdraw. If he wasn’t careful, they’d be making love right here on a kitchen chair. There was a bed in the shack. It wasn’t much of a bed, but he was determined to use it.

He took up her mouth with his, came carefully to his feet, holding her tight, her legs still wrapped around his waist. He was never more grateful for the habitual condom tucked into his wallet.

They crossed to the bed, and he dragged back the covers, easing down until he was sitting, lying back, drawing her full length on top of him before turning enough to strip off his sweats and pull her naked body against his own.

He ordered himself to slow down their kisses, curb his wayward hands that seemed determined to experience every inch of her soft skin. Her legs were toned and perfectly shaped. Her stomach was flat, creamy skin, with a sexy sweet navel. Her breasts were exactly the right size, fitting the palms of his hands, nipples dark pink, beaded under his touch.

Her shoulders were smooth, neck long and sexy, and her blond hair splayed messily out across the pillow, beckoning his hands. He burrowed his face into it and inhaled.

“I could breathe you in all day,” he whispered.

Her hands trailed across the flat of his chest. “And I could touch you forever.” She turned and met his gaze. “Or kiss you,” she offered, moving in on his lips, voice going lower. “I could kiss you forever.”

Her words nearly caved his chest in with emotion. He cradled her face, holding her steady while he kissed her long and deeply.

She wrapped a leg over his body and his hips reflexively arched toward her. His hand slid over her breast, down her stomach, gently easing between her legs.

She flinched, and he froze, pulling back. “Something wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Katrina?”

She kissed him deeply, but something had changed. There was a tension in her body that hadn’t been there before.

“You change your mind?” It might kill him, but she was entitled.

“No,” she insisted, kissing him again.

“Stop,” he ordered.

“You change your mind?” she asked.

“Of course not. Are you kidding me?” He drew away so that he could look her in the eyes. “Tell me.”

She clamped her jaw.

He knew he should leave the bed, but he couldn’t help hoping there was a simple explanation. Something other than the fact she had cold feet. Which he’d have to respect. A pithy swear word formed on his lips. But he kept it there. “You can say no, Katrina. I’ll be-”

“I’m a virgin,” she blurted out.

He reared back. “What?”

“I haven’t changed my mind. I’m just a little nervous.”

“What?” he repeated, unable to articulate anything more coherent.

She didn’t answer, just stared at him with those gorgeous blue eyes, looking more desirable, more forbidden, sexier than he could possibly be expected to stand.

“I want it to be you, Reed,” she whispered.

He tried to shake his head, but he couldn’t seem to make the simple motion. A better man would walk away. A better man would have stayed away in the first place. Up to this moment, he’d have claimed he was a better man.

Then she reached up to touch his cheek, her fingertips trembling ever so slightly. “I so want it to be you.”

Reed catapulted over the edge. He swooped in to kiss her, telling himself to be gentle, but losing the battle with instinct. His hands roamed the satin of her skin, lips trailing behind, kissing her everywhere, swearing to himself he was going to make it good for her, but unable to slow the pace of his desire.

He touched her again, fingers easing inside her hot, snug body, jolts of unadulterated lust ricocheting through every fiber of his being.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he rasped. He couldn’t stand the thought.

“You won’t,” she told him.

But he knew she was wrong. “I will.”

“Then just get it over with.”

“I don’t think so.” He brushed and stroked, until she relaxed, then squirmed beneath his hand. Her skin was flushed, and her breath was coming in quick pants.