Текст книги "Playing With Fire"

Автор книги: Alison Bliss

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

Chapter Six

Cowboy had probably expected me to turn him down, not banish him from the library altogether. But the day before, I’d done just that. Lucky for him, today was Sunday, which meant the library was closed. Unlucky for me, I forgot to also ban him from my home.

It was almost dark outside when he pulled up, and I was stretching a garden hose across my front lawn. Fresh from the shower, I’d put on a white terrycloth robe and left my wet red hair hanging loosely around my shoulders. Both were decisions I immediately regretted, but I didn’t detour from my mission.

By the time he joined me on the side of my little white cottage, I was doing something he undoubtedly found rather strange: watering my house. He stepped up beside me and glanced at the wet rooftop and dripping eaves. “Think it’ll be ready to harvest by the end of the season?”

“What are you doing here?” I frowned, my face already heated and my body vibrating with anger. “I thought I told you I wasn’t interested.”

Cowboy held up his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa. No need to get pissy. I just came by to talk.”

“We did enough talking yesterday. Good-bye.”

But he ignored me. “Where are your glasses?”

“Huh? Oh.” I reached up to my face, realizing I didn’t have them on. “They’re reading glasses. I don’t wear them all the time, just at work and…” I shook my head, feeling even more frazzled than I’d been before he’d shown up. “Never mind. I don’t know why I’m explaining anything to you. You’re leaving.”

His brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing you need to worry about. It’s my problem, and I’m handling—”

Loud, thumping music sounded from up the road. Within seconds, a dark blue Bronco appeared and pulled into the driveway next to mine. I put one hand on my hip and watched the Barlow brothers climb out, hooting and hollering, and carrying a brand new eighteen-pack of beer.

Sloppy. Rowdy. And drunk, as usual.

Joe Barlow wore his cap backward. Stray tufts of his dark hair poked out between his eyes, his sideburns, and the back of his neck. His dirty white tank top left his tattooed arms exposed, though I couldn’t make out the red ink blob on his left bicep. As he rounded the hood of the Bronco, he guzzled the last of the beer in his hand, then crushed the empty can on his chest. His brother chortled at the sight.

Clay was shorter than Joe, heavily overweight, and laughed like a snickering hyena. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and the too-tight jeans he had squeezed himself into only emphasized his large pot belly and tanned ass crack. A toothpick dangled from his yellowed teeth as he turned, set down the case of beer, and did something with his hands I couldn’t quite make out.

There was a shrill whistle and a loud pop as a fire cracker shot through the air and over my house, leaving a trail of sparks in its wake. I threw down the hose and started for the two men. I’d made it halfway across the lawn when Cowboy caught up to me. To him, it must’ve seemed like a random burst of energy. He hadn’t been there for the first round of fireworks before the brothers had taken off on their apparent beer run.

Cowboy latched onto my arm and shook his head. “Hold up, tiny. You don’t want to do that.”

I glared at him. “Oh, really?”

“Those guys are bad news. Most people—at least the ones in their right minds—tend to avoid them.”

“And why’s that?”

“Those boys are known bullies,” he said, letting go of me. “They live to intimidate others, plain and simple. They were a few grades ahead of us in school, but I’ve known them my whole life. Even saw them in action firsthand when they got into it at The Backwoods with my captain the day of my promotion party. If you go over there, you’re asking for trouble.”

I crossed my arms and sighed. “So I’m supposed to keep quiet and do nothing?”

“When they were younger, Clay had an itchy trigger finger, taking a notion to shooting things with his BB gun just for the hell of it. Joe wasn’t much better. He may be older, but he’s always had a problem with authority. Ended up in jail more than once after a scuffle with the sheriff. You don’t want to get mixed up with—” He glanced back at them and said, “Oh, shit!” Then he grabbed me and spun me sideways.

A whoosh sounded as something whizzed past us like a rocket, hit the side of my house with a loud thump, and exploded on impact. The fireball fell into the bush directly underneath, and the shrubbery instantly caught fire.

Joe and Clay burst into hysterics.

“You idiots! Watch where you’re shooting those things!” Cowboy sprinted away from me, picked up my abandoned hose, and soaked down the greenery, as well as the side of my house.

Maybe most people in their right mind avoided the Barlow brothers, but I was no longer in mine. I marched across my yard and right into theirs, sticking my finger in each of their faces as if it were a loaded weapon. “That’s it. I’ve had enough! Every night this week, you two have shot fireworks over my home.”

Clay grinned. “So what?”

“So what? Are you kidding me?” Outraged, I flapped my arms and squawked at him like a hen. “It’s a fire hazard. You could kill somebody doing something so stupid and reckless.”

“Ah,” Joe said, waving me off. “Why don’t you shut up and go home?” He turned away from me, dismissing me completely.

But I wouldn’t allow it.

I circled him and stepped in his path. “Look, I tried to ask nicely the other day, but you just laughed and ignored me. I won’t sit back and watch you set my house on fire. If you don’t knock it off this time, I’m going to…to…”

Joe’s eyes narrowed at me. “You’re going to do what?”

“I’ll call the police.”

Clay elbowed his brother in a “get this chick” capacity and chuckled. By now, anything I said would fall on deaf ears, so I spun around and headed back onto my own property to get my phone and make good on my promise. I wasn’t sure if Joe caught a glimpse of the determination in my eyes, but he jumped in front of me, blocking my path.

“Get out of my way.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?”

Cowboy was still busy snuffing out the burning bush, but I wasn’t willing to back down. I crossed my arms and glared at Joe. “You’re already in enough trouble. Do you really want to add holding me hostage to the charges?”

He snorted. “Lady, you’d have to prove it first. Besides, I’m not in trouble for nothing. My dipshit brother shot the fireworks off, not me.”

“True. But maybe when the cops get here, I’ll tell them about the little side business you’ve been running.”

Joe’s brows rose slightly. “Uh, side business?”

I rolled my eyes. “You think I haven’t noticed the multitude of cars stopping at your house at all hours of the night? It’s obviously something illegal you don’t want the sheriff knowing about.”

He glared back at me. “What are you doing—spying on us?”

“Oh, please. Anyone with half a brain could figure out you’re doing something shady over here. Did you really think you wouldn’t get caught sooner or later?”

“Look, you little bitch—”

“No, you look!” I yelled, poking him in the chest. He grunted, but stood his ground as I continued. “Since I moved in a few weeks ago, you two have been nothing but rude and obnoxious. You play your music too loud, you have friends coming and going all hours of the night, and setting off fireworks is dangerous. I’m not going to tolerate this crap any longer. I won’t allow you morons to burn down my home with me inside.”

In retaliation, he leaned over and grasped my arm in a bruising grip, his hands cold as ice. “You may not have much of a choice,” he snarled.

“E-excuse me?”

“You heard me, lady. Better watch yourself. That sassy mouth just might get you into trouble one of these days. I don’t know where you came from, but ’round here, neighbors who go buttin’ their noses where they don’t belong tend to get…burned.”

My eyes widened at his insinuation, but I couldn’t speak. I glanced in Cowboy’s direction and realized that, although he’d finished putting out the burning bush, he’d been oblivious to the heated argument going on next door. Between the distance and the whipping wind rustling the leaves on the trees, he hadn’t heard a single word.

With no witnesses, I had no way to prove what Joe said to me. Not only did he threaten me, but he chose the most terrifying way imaginable.

Fire.

A hoarse sob broke from my throat.

Shoulders slumped and fighting back the tears stinging my eyes, I stood in their pea gravel driveway as the Barlow brothers disappeared inside their house, letting the screen door bang against the jamb behind them. Part of me wanted to march in after them and give them another piece of my mind, but the other part—a much bigger part—was afraid of what would happen to me if I did.

I glanced back over my shoulder just in time to see Cowboy toss the hose aside and cut across the lawn, heading in my direction. I swiped the tears that had dropped onto my cheeks and blinked to clear any additional moisture from my eyes. I couldn’t let him see me like this.

By the time he reached me, I had taken a few deep breaths and calmed myself considerably, though I hadn’t moved an inch.

“Where’d Tweedledee and Tweedledum go?”

I closed my eyes and swallowed hard. “They went inside.” My voice cracked on the last word and I cringed. The last thing I wanted was for Cowboy to see or hear how they’d affected me.

“Anna…?”

I turned to walk past him, but he grasped my shoulders and held me there, his eyes searching mine for answers. No doubt they were still shiny from the tears that had been there moments before. “What happened?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

His face hardened and his jaw tightened. “Bullshit. Tell me.”

“It’s nothing, okay? I told them I’d call the police if this didn’t stop and…well, he threatened me.”

I barely finished the sentence before Cowboy’s intense eyes sparked with fury and his mouth twisted into a frightening sneer. “I’m gonna kill ’em,” he said, dropping my arm and starting for their house in a full-on bout of rage.

“No! Please don’t. You’ll only make things worse.” I grasped his arm, digging my fingernails into his skin to stop him. Not only was he outnumbered, but those two brothers were clearly unstable. I didn’t want Cowboy to get hurt. “You can’t go in there.”

“Watch me.”

“It wasn’t a big deal. I doubt Joe even meant it. He was just being a jerk.”

Cowboy paused. “What exactly did he say to you?”

“Joe told me…” I hesitated, but took a deep breath. “He said he would burn my house down…with me inside.”

He blinked at me, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Then lightning flashed in his eyes. “Those little bastards,” he said, shaking out of my grip. “Stay here. I’ll be back after I have a few words with them.”

But I knew that was a lie. He wasn’t going in there to do any talking. No, he was going in there with every intention of beating the hell out of them. I could see it in his stiff posture and the way his teeth gnashed together in anger. But I couldn’t let that happen.

I jumped in front of him and put my hand on his chest. Like that did any good. He glared at it, pushed my hand aside, then picked me up and physically moved me out of his way. I was no match for his strength. It was the equivalent of me trying to stop a speeding train with my bare hands.

As he strode briskly away, I panicked and blurted out, “My mother died in a fire!”

The grief and sadness must’ve registered in my voice because he stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. A dull ache gnawed at my insides, dredging up an emptiness I hadn’t felt in years. His withering stare softened and his eyes flooded with compassion and understanding. That was the moment the dam broke wide open. Tears dripped freely onto my cheeks and I wiped at them, smearing the painful memories down my face. Apparently it was enough to convince him I needed him to stay more than he needed to defend my honor.

Silently, Cowboy returned to me. For a moment, he just stood there with his eyes closed, as if he were willing himself to settle down. When he opened them, something else had taken the place of the anger. Something closely resembling sympathy and understanding. “Is that why you’re scared of fire?”

I bit my lip to keep it from trembling as another tear rolled down my cheek. I nodded slowly.

Bridging the gap between us, Cowboy pulled me into his masculine arms. At first, I tried to push away, not wanting his pity, but he wouldn’t allow it. He drew me back to him, and within seconds, I surrendered to the security of his strong hold, burying my face into his chest as little hiccupping sobs burst from my throat.

“Okay, just breathe.” He smoothed one hand over my hair, then settled it on my lower back. “Slow and easy. Like this,” he said, using his other hand to place mine against his chest, allowing me to feel the rise and fall of his even breaths.

He held me comfortably, giving me time to calm down, while he probably contemplated which one of the Barlow boys he was going to punch in the face first. Because when their screen door banged against the jamb again, Cowboy whirled around fast, fists clenched, ready for a fight.

Mandy Barlow had stepped outside on their porch with her short, blunt brunette hair and perky nose. She looked straight at me, her eyes registering concern, then flicked a glance at Cowboy. “Is everything all right?”

“Apparently, your brothers get off on threatening women.”

“Oh God. I’m sorry,” Mandy said, shaking her head. She directed her attention back to me. “Don’t listen to them, honey. They’re all talk…well, mostly.” She offered a small non-committal shrug. “They may not use the sense that the good Lord gave ’em, but I’m sure they were only trying to scare you.”

“Well, it worked,” Cowboy said, his tone shifting from sour to downright caustic. “Give them a piece of advice for me, Mandy. Tell them that if they come near Anna again, they’re going to answer to me.”

Mandy bit her lip. “I don’t think—”

“Tell ’em,” he demanded. “Because if this happens again, we’re going to see how they fare with someone a little closer to their own size.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, she nodded silently and went back inside.

Cowboy slid his arm gently around my shoulders and softened his voice. “Come on, darlin’.” He kept me tucked firmly against his side as he walked me home.

I was relieved he was no longer going after the Barlow boys, but hoped like hell Mandy didn’t actually tell her brothers what Cowboy had said. It would be the equivalent of beating on an active beehive with a short stick.

Once we cleared my front door, I let out a sigh of relief. Just being back inside my small rental home, surrounded by my own things, made me feel better. Safer, even. My quaint cottage held only sparse, simple furnishings, such as a small flat-screen TV and an eggshell-colored love seat, but it was my comfort zone. My sanctuary.

I loved everything about it. From the plain white lace curtains adorning the living room windows to the delicate pink rose wallpaper in the narrow hallway. Not to mention the hundreds of books on the two huge bookcases which commandeered an entire wall behind my beige reading chair.

Cowboy raised a brow. “You read all those?”

I nodded. “I enjoy reading.”

He lifted a romance book I’d left lying in my chair, scanned the title, and chuckled. “Sounds like some kind of guidebook for birth control, rather than a romance.”

Mentally cringing, I moved into the tiny kitchen to keep from awarding him with the blush I felt slowly creeping into my cheeks. His boots clomped on the floor behind me, signaling he’d followed. I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of him eyeing the steaming white teapot on the glass-top stove.

“I was preparing a cup of tea when I heard the popping sounds coming from outside,” I explained, my voice shaking a little.

“Would you like a cup?” he asked.

I nodded and opened the cabinet nearest the sink, where I kept my good china and a small box of tea bags.

“Sit down,” he ordered, reaching over me and taking them from my hands. “I’ll get it for you.”

Wordlessly, I obeyed his command and sat at the small round dining room table. I reached over and flipped the switch on an electronic warming plate that held a vanilla-scented candle in a glass jar, needing the calming Zen the aromatherapy would provide. Then I took a couple of slow, deep breaths.

It was hard to believe Cowboy was inside my home, much less making me a cup of hot tea. Every vision I’d had in the last week of him being here with me had always had way more to do with my bedroom than a kitchen. And the thought of Cowboy and me anywhere near a bed together made my heart race and my breath quicken. Not that I’d ever tell him that, though.

My irritating mind used the pleasant fantasy against me to slowly drive me insane. I’d be leaving in a few months. Besides that, Cowboy had never been attracted to me. How could he be? Especially now when I resembled a worn, wrung-out mop.

Standing outside in the wind had dried my damp hair, but now it felt like an unruly ball of tangled twine on top of my head. Drab, stringy, and no doubt completely unflattering. Then again, I doubted he’d even notice. Cowboy’s only interest in me had to do with him bedding a woman who’d turned him down flat. That’s what he’d said, after all: I’m intrigued by you because you didn’t want anything to do with me.

Cowboy brought over two cups of the aromatic tea, placed one in front of me, and plopped down in the empty chair beside me with his cup still in his hand. He brought it to his lips and took a large swallow before cringing, making a god-awful face, and setting the cup down. He pushed it away from him. “That tastes like shit.”

I dunked my tea bag a couple of times and cautiously took a sip from my cup. As I swallowed, the warm, fragrant liquid traveled down my throat, soothing me from the inside out. Puzzled, I shook my head. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Tastes like dirt and grass.”

I smiled lightly. “It’s herbal.”

He crooked his mouth and wrinkled his nose, as if he couldn’t understand why anyone would drink the earthy stuff. Then his green eyes flickered to the flameless candle warmer, which apparently reminded him why we were sitting there together. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

I didn’t. Not really.

All the slow breathing I’d done earlier had helped lower my blood pressure and pulse rate, but I suddenly felt both rising once again. I’d carried the guilt over my mother’s death with me for so long. Maybe it was time I let someone in and get it off my chest. But then I wondered what he’d think of me once he knew the truth, and the fear clamped my vocal chords into silence. Bringing the cup back to my lips, I took another sip and shook my head.

Cowboy’s eyes narrowed in determination. He took my cup from me and set it aside, then he grasped my seat with both hands and scooted my chair around to face him. “Talk to me.”

Guess he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

I couldn’t look directly at him. A long pause ensued until I felt calm enough to speak the words out loud. “I was…six years old at the time,” I whispered, wringing my hands together in my lap. “My mother was cooking dinner while I finished my homework at the kitchen table. My stepfather had just called to say he was on his way home from work when the doorbell rang.” I paused.

“Go on,” he encouraged.

I swallowed hard. “My mom went to answer it. I…I should’ve stayed in the kitchen like she told me to…but I didn’t.” I was having a difficult time talking and shook my head in disgust as a fat tear dropped onto my cheek. “Had I stayed, I could have stopped the fire from happening. Things might’ve been different,” I told him, my lips trembling with remorse. “S-she might still be alive.” With that admittance, a sob tore from my throat and guilt stabbed into my chest, piercing my heart. Angry tears assaulted my cheeks, and although my hands flew to my face to fend them off, it was useless. The battle was lost.

Drawing me to him, Cowboy pressed his lips to my ear and made a shushing sound. He rubbed my back lightly, allowing me to release all the pent-up regret I’d held onto for so long. “I’m sorry, Anna. I should’ve trusted you from the beginning. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

I squeezed my eyes closed. I was a coward. He trusted me…yet I still couldn’t bring myself to tell him the whole truth.

When my cries finally died down, he asked, “Want to know why I became a fireman?”

His chin rested on top of my head, but he must’ve felt me nod.

“When I was thirteen, a single mother moved in across the street from my parents’ home. She lived in a double-wide trailer and had three kids, all under the age of six—Danny, Lynn, and Suzie Q. Well, that’s what I used to call her, anyway. The kids would come over on the weekends sometimes to play with my dog.

“One morning, I was out back working on my go-cart when I picked up a strong whiff of smoke blowing in the breeze. I’d circled the house trying to figure out where it was coming from, when I looked across the road and saw their trailer on fire.”

My temple was pressed to his throat, and I felt him swallow hard.

“I knew they were inside and yelled for my mom to call 911 while my dad and I ran over and pounded on their door. It was locked, though. We couldn’t get in. We knocked in a few windows and yelled, but no one answered. Every time we tried to enter, the smoke choked us and the heat from the fire burned our skin.”

I pulled back and looked at him, wide-eyed. “They didn’t make it out, did they?”

Solemnly, he shook his head. “I was there when the firefighters pulled their bodies out, one by one. It made me sick. The fast-moving fire had spread before their mom could wake up and carry them to safety. I stood outside that charred trailer and said good-bye to each one of those babies. They never even had a chance at life.”

I studied his face. His eyes were glossy from tears that hadn’t yet fallen. The cool arrogance he normally displayed was long gone, replaced by things I easily recognized. Grief. Sadness. Regret. Maybe we weren’t as different as I thought.

“It’s always tougher when it involves children.”

“Yeah. But it’s worse when you realize that if only you’d had the right tools for the job, they would all still be alive.” He shook his head at the injustice. “That’s only one of two reasons why I joined the fire department, though.”

“What’s the other?”

Cowboy grinned a little. “Danny wanted to be a fireman. That’s all the kid ever talked about.”

My heart squeezed as I smiled warmly at him. Without thinking, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his cheek, surprising the both of us. He stiffened at the unexpected gesture, and I pulled back immediately. But his hand caught me behind my neck, stopping the motion.

His face lingered near mine, and his gaze landed on my mouth as I licked my lips with nervousness. Okay, anticipation. So I wanted to kiss him. Big deal. Who wouldn’t?

But it wasn’t a good idea. And, judging by his expression and the tightening of his grip on the back of my neck, it seemed we were both grappling with the decision to take the innocent kiss on the cheek one step further.

“Anna, I—” He lowered his gaze, his whole body becoming rigid. Cowboy’s eyes widened and his mouth fell dormant.

At first, I wasn’t sure what caused the reaction. Once my gaze followed his, it only took me a fraction of a second to realize what had taken him by surprise. My heart flatlined. My robe had parted on my thighs, baring them, and Cowboy had gotten an eyeful of much more than I’d ever intended for him to see.

Panicking, I grasped the skirt of my robe and covered myself, but his hands shot out and grasped mine. “Don’t.”

Before I could argue with him, Cowboy shoved my hands aside and carefully slid the fabric from my legs, revealing the large, irregular patchwork of ropey pink scars that marred my slim thighs. The unsymmetrical planes of skin were thickened with grotesque, disfiguring reminders of exactly why I avoided fire…and men.

As he focused his attention on my legs, my chest tightened with the strong urge to escape, but I was unable to move. The last person to look so closely at my deformities was the plastic surgeon who’d performed several painful corrective surgeries on me over the years in the form of agonizing skin grafts and laser resurfacing. That was, until I finally refused further treatment.

A tentative touch jarred me from my thoughts as Cowboy’s hand fell lightly upon my right knee. His fingers inched upward, carefully considering the texture of each mark before tracing one blemish to the inside of my leg. His gaze heated as his fingers whispered over my deformed skin. Though there had been some nerve damage, and the skin in that area wasn’t particularly sensitive, the sight of seeing Cowboy’s hand between my legs caused me to tense and a strangled sound bubbled from my throat.

Our eyes met.

His calloused hand flattened, covering my thigh with warmth. He stopped exploring the marks, but didn’t pull back. For a moment, we sat there in a deadlock, his hands on my thighs and neither of us moving. His face tightened with a cornucopia of emotions: anger, protectiveness, understanding, and pity.

I wasn’t sure if I should say anything or not. Thankfully, he made the decision for me by releasing me and lowering his gaze, severing the intense connection between us. “I have to go,” Cowboy volunteered in a hasty voice much deeper than before. “Right now.”

“Oh,” I said as my cheeks flushed. “Um, okay.” I yanked the robe to cover my legs, while he extended the courtesy of looking away. I shot to my feet and faced away from him, not wanting him to see the disappointment and confusion in my eyes.

When I opened the front door and moved aside, he stepped through it and out into the warm night air. Darkness had fallen quickly, as it usually does when you’re surrounded by nothing but trees and no streetlamps.

“Thanks for, um…listening, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” He started off the porch, without looking back. “Have a good night,” he called out over his shoulder.

“You, too,” I said softly, watching him stroll out to his truck.

Once he reached it, I closed the front door and leaned against it, blowing out a long, slow breath. I probably should’ve been relieved he hadn’t pressed me for more details about the fire. And realistically, I didn’t even know why I was bewildered by his reaction to seeing my scars. From the beginning, I’d predicted—if not projected—the outcome. Although he hadn’t appeared exactly repulsed by them, he was obviously distancing himself from me, which was close enough to the same thing.

At least he’d demonstrated some compassion by not drawing out a long, awkward good-bye littered with excuses and insincere apologies. Not that it mattered, since I could already feel a stinging sensation as the first tear pricked my eye.

If I can’t see past the scars, then why should he?

I was still leaning against the door moments later when someone rapped lightly on the other side. What the hell?

I opened it to find Cowboy filling the space with unnerving eyes, a strange look of desperation on his face, and his mouth held in a grim, firm line. “I should keep my hands off you,” he said with a hoarseness to his voice.

“Um, okay.” Guess he was more repulsed than I thought, because he was going ahead with the insincere apology, after all. “You came back to tell me that?”

“No, I forgot something.” He sounded even more irritated than when I first opened the door.

“Oh. What’d you forget?” I started to turn to look for a set of keys or something else that could be his, but he gripped my arm to stop me.

“This,” he said, spinning me back to him and covering my mouth with his.

Instantly, I froze.

Since I’d first met him, I’d always wondered what it would be like to be under that perfect mouth of his, and now that I was finding out, I stood there stupidly with my fish lips smashed against his in the most unflattering way.

But that didn’t deter him. He moved his lips slowly against mine, patiently awaiting my response. And he got one. Within seconds, my passive lips became soft and pliant against his as our mouths began a seductive dance together. His warmth tempered my body, bringing it to just the right degree, until I melted into him, my fingers gripping his shirt as I kissed him back with no physical hesitation.

Mentally, I was still hesitating, though. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” I whispered between kisses.

In answer, his hands moved into my hair, tilting my head slightly to the right, as his breath tickled across my lips. “Open your mouth and shut up,” he murmured, bringing my face back to his.

I did as he asked, and his tongue swept inside, delving deep. My good sense flew out the window. He was warm and tasted like wild honey. The insistent rolling of his tongue against mine excited me more, enticing me to participate. Feeling braver than normal, I ran mine across his bottom lip and gave him a little nip.

He stilled.

At first, I thought I’d done something wrong, but my hand resting on his chest pulsed with the acceleration of his irregular heartbeat. Keeping his lips glued to mine, Cowboy spun me around with dizzying speed and planted me firmly against the door. Before I could say anything, he hungrily kissed me. His enthusiasm grew immensely, radiating off him with each insatiable thrust of his tongue, beckoning me with every curl.

His right hand moved lower, past my hip, and cupped the back of my knee, raising it to his waist. My robe lifted higher and left me feeling a breeze in places that shouldn’t be breezy. I arched my hips forward to keep my balance, and the large bulge in his jeans rubbed against the thin fabric of my cotton panties. The delicious friction shot sparks throughout my body, and a purr-like sound rumbled from deep within my throat.

His warm fingers found their way to the back of my thigh, stroking and kneading, as he moved higher and higher. He used the position we were in as leverage to access an intimate part of me and easily slipped two fingers under my panties.