Barbara Dunlop - A Cowboy in Manhattan

After long, hot, sexy minutes, he rasped, “This is crazy. You’re crazy. I’m crazy. We’re playing with fire.”

“We’re adults,” she pointed out.

“Barely.”

“I can legally vote, drink and make love in any state in the Union.”

“Bully for you.”

“Reed. Get real. A fling is no different than a one-night stand.”

He went silent.

She took it to mean he didn’t have a rebuttal.

“I’ve had this fantasy most of my adult life,” she dared to say.

“I don’t want to hear this.”

She took one of his hands between hers. “It was about losing my virginity. I imagined it happening in a big bed, with fine linen, maybe flowers and candles.”

Guilt seemed to tighten his features. “Instead, you got me in a broken-down old line shack.”

She nodded, faintly surprised at her own willingness to play that particular card. “The you part was fine. But I wasn’t crazy about the line shack.” She screwed up her courage again. “We did it on your turf, Reed. Don’t you think it’s fair we do it again on mine?”

He gazed at their joined hands. “You think you can reason your way into making love again?” But his expression had softened. There was even a hint of a reluctant grin.

“Yes.”

“You’re impossible.”

“And you’re stubborn.”

He came to his feet. “I’m trying to be respectful.”

She stood up, rounding to face him and placing a hand on his arm. Going for broke, she lowered her voice and put every ounce of vamp she could muster into her expression and tone. “Do me a favor, Reed. Respect me all night long.”

His gray eyes darkened, and the half smile disappeared. “And when I leave you in the morning?”

“I’ll probably jump off the balcony in sheer anguish and despondency.” She came up on her toes and kissed him. The first one was quick, but then she kissed him longer, and he responded, and once again they were wrapped in each other’s arms.

This time, when he set her away from him, he grasped her hand, tugging her to his side. They began walking silently back to the sidewalk, setting a beeline for the nearby Royal Globe Towers.

They crossed the opulent lobby, entered the elevator and were whisked to the top floor. Along the way, Katrina was afraid to speak, afraid to even look Reed’s way for fear of breaking the spell.

She shouldn’t have worried. The minute the suite door clicked shut behind them, he swept her into his arms. Even as he kissed her, he was pushing his jacket from her shoulders, tossing it, along with her purse, onto a nearby bench. The tie followed, and his lips roamed their way across her bare shoulder.

He hugged her tight, the heat of his body penetrating her silk dress. His hand closed over her breast, and sensation zipped its way through the center of her body, bringing a gasp to her lips.

He captured the sound with his mouth.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, pushing the dress farther down her shoulder. “Gorgeous.” He kissed her mouth. “Delicious.” He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb stroking as the kisses continued. “Exquisite.”

A heady sense of power tripped through her. She felt for the buttons on his shirt, popping them through the smooth holes, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

She separated the halves of his dress shirt, tugging it from his slacks. Her dress slipped down to her waist, and she wrapped her arms around him, pressing her breasts against his smooth chest.

He immediately lifted her into his arms, kissing her deeply and thoroughly, as he settled her against his chest, striding through the big suite, making his way into the master bedroom. The four-poster bed was turned down and a dim lamp glowed soft yellow in a far corner.

Reed set her on her feet, smoothing back her messy hair. “You want some champagne?”

She shook her head, pushing her dress to the floor.

In response, he slipped off his shoes. “A whirlpool bath?”

“No.” She stepped out of the silk in nothing but a pair of tiny, lacy, black panties, her shoes and the onyx jewelry.

His hand went to the button on his pants, flicking it open and dragging down the zipper. “Some music?”

She trailed her fingertips along the six-pack of his rock-hard abs. “What are you doing?”

“Romancing you.” He kicked off his pants along with everything else. He was beyond magnificent.

“Consider me romanced.” She sat down on the bed, lifting her foot, presenting him with the delicate sandal.

He slipped off one and then the other. He let her foot drop gently to the floor as he bent forward, taking her mouth with his, running his hands from her hips, to her breasts, splaying his thumbs across her peaking nipples as he gently laid her back on the bed.

He rolled onto his back then, so that she was on top. He stroked his hands down her spine, dipping below her panties, palming her bottom and rolling the delicate fabric down her legs.

She kissed his chest, tasting the salt of his skin, inhaling his smoky, masculine scent. Her hands roamed his chest, working their way down his body. She’d been nervous in the line shack, uncertain of whether to touch him or how or where. But now she was curious. She followed the contours of his body, his strong shoulders, thickly muscled arms, flat nipples, the indent of his navel and lower still.

After the briefest of moments, he sucked in a breath and captured her wrist, moving her hand from him.

“Hey,” she protested.

He turned her onto her back, trapping her other arm while his free hand began its own exploration.

“Not fair,” she complained on a guttural groan.

“Deal with it,” he advised, kissing her swollen mouth, his tongue delving deep while his caresses left scorching heat in their wake.

He moved from her nipples to her stomach, inching ever lower, finding more sensitive places until her breath was coming in gasps and her body arched.

“Reed,” she gasped. “Please.”

He reached for a condom.

Then he wrapped his arms fully around her, moving between her legs, gazing deeply into her eyes and gently kissing her brows, her lids, the corner of her mouth. He flexed his hips, pushing ever so gently inside.

“I don’t deserve this,” he groaned.

She tried to tell him he did, but her answer was swallowed by another deep, lingering kiss.

Instinct clouded her brain, while sensations radiated out from where their bodies were joined. He started slowly, but she urged him on with growing impatience. She wasn’t exactly sure how this was supposed to go, but slow definitely wasn’t working for her.

She clung to him, arms wrapped around his neck, her body rising to meet his while she kissed him frantically, moving from his mouth to his chin, before burying her face in the crook of his neck, sucking the taut skin, savoring the taste of him with the tip of her tongue. His hand went to the small of her back, lifting her to him, changing their angle, sending blinding sparks shooting through her body.

She gasped his name over and over again, wrapping her body around him, feeling them meld to one.

He picked up the rhythm, and she rode the crest of his wave, rising higher and higher, until a guttural groan was torn from her throat. Reed cried out her name, and fireworks went off behind her eyes, bursting over and over in impossibly vibrant colors.

An hour later, Reed had banished his guilt and self-recrimination to a far-flung corner of his brain, allowing himself to absorb the experience. Katrina was still naked, submerged now beneath the roiling water in the cedar hot tub on the hotel suite’s deck. The scattered lights of Central Park fanned out behind her, while the midtown towers rose up in the distance-a beautiful city framing a beautiful woman.