Page 110 of Cowboy Heat

I take his hand and slip it from on top of my shorts to beneath the waistband. I never wear anything beneath my pajamas and his hand is fire against my bare skin. He squeezes my hip, like he’s memorizing it by touch. I want that touch more. I want that touch everywhere.

Beau, though, breaks the kiss. It’s like pulling the air out of my lungs. I’m hot and breathless and worry that I’ve gone too far. Been too forward. Maybe I should calm down, take a second to collect my thoughts and the warmth that’s spreading fast within me.

His scar shines. His hesitation shows. He’s looking down into me again. The rain outside is still beating above us.

I think he’s going to leave for a moment. Disappear into his head, say something sweet but firm to let me know I’ve overstepped.

That I’m wrong on all accounts.

But then, he smiles.

It’s one I haven’t seen yet.

It’s one that burns just right.

“I don’t care what’s going on in town right now,” he says, all gravel and grit. “Tonight, in this room, I’m going to take you. And I’m going to make sure you enjoy it.”

He doesn’t ask me if I want him because he knows I do. Still, I make sure I’m clear.

I let go of him and take the bottom of my shirt in hand. It’s off and flying into the ether around us in the next second.

Beau’s gaze caresses my bare skin.

Then his hand beneath my shorts is just as fast. His fingers slide into me with a movement split between power and pleasure. I moan out in surprise. It encourages him.

His thumb rubs outside while his fingers pick up a rhythm. It isn’t long before I’m building.

“Come on,” he says against my lips. It’s a command I gladly follow.

The wave washes through me. Hot tension, sweet release.

Beau clasps his lips to mine, a vice to hold the moment in place. To savor it. To revel in it.

My skin is hot. The rain is loud.

I want more.

I’m not the only one.

Beau goes from my lips to my neck to my nipple, trailing a tongue that swirls before he sucks. I want to buck up against him but he has other plans. Moving with smooth precision, he leaves the cold air to harden my nipple even more and ventures down to the pajama shorts I’m finding cumbersome at the moment.

Good thing he slides them down and off.

His mouth takes me before I can find stable ground.

I take to clutching at the sleeping bag beneath me for an anchor so I don’t get lost out at sea.

This time the moaning I do doesn’t surprise me; it excites me. Beau’s a god between my legs and all I want to do is praise him. The best I can do is sing his name as he brings me to my breaking point. Again.

I’m breathing heavy and vibrating something wonderful as he pulls up.

It’s time for the main event and there’s nothing he can do to stop me from letting him know.

My hands aren’t shy as I yank at his pants. Thankfully, he’s reading me loud and clear. The thin fabric keeping me from him exits the equation and there I am seeing all of Beau Montgomery.

If I was praising him before because of his tongue, I just know I’m about to lead the entire choir into grace concerning another integral part of him.

There’s a moment, though, not a hesitation but a moment, of calm. Of quiet.