Cowboys have never been good for Amy Sorentino. First her hard-riding father bankrupted the family farm. Then her all-hat-no-cattle boyfriend sold her out on national television, ending her promising career as a chef.
Now she and her squabbling sisters have partnered up in a final attempt to save their land by starting an inn and local restaurant. So it figures that with everything on the line, Amy’s key supplier is just the kind of Stetson-tipping heartbreaking bad boy she’s sworn to avoid. But Kellan Reed has a few secrets of his own–and cowboy or not, Amy can’t resist this kind of wild ride…
They sped to the truck through the now-empty parking lot, holding hands and chuckling conspiratorially. On reaching the passenger side, he spun her around and backed her against the door with a greedy kiss.
He tasted of wine and she could already feel the beginning of fresh stubble above his upper lip. Wrapped in his hard planes and muscled arms, she felt the stirrings of something other than lust, something wilder and more dangerous. Plunging her hands into his hair, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the physical merging of their bodies, taming the unwanted feeling before it became something she was forced to name.
He tore away from her mouth, panting, and opened the truck's passenger door.
Her whole body thrummed with desire. "It's a dark night. We could drive down the road. Pull onto the shoulder." Dazed and floating, she turned and had one boot inside the cab when Kellan's hand on her back gently but firmly pressed her stomach into the seat.
"Not down the road. Right here, right now."
The sound of a zipper opening, then cellophane ripping, echoed in the still, rural night.
"Someone might see us," she breathed, even though she knew she wouldn't care if they did.
"No one's around. And we're in a shadow, angled away from the windows and road."
Cold air pooled around her legs as her skirt lifted several inches. Kellan's movements paused. "I'll stop if you want me to. Say the word."
Aroused beyond measure, she nuzzled her nose into the seat fabric. "No, don't stop. Take me like this."
Her skirt lifted. His hands caressed her flesh. "I found your panties."
She heard a click of something metal, like a pocket knife, then felt a tug on her thong before it fell away. He tossed it onto the truck seat near her head. Guess he didn't care for her plan to pull it aside.
Latex nudged at her opening. Grasping her hips, he surged into her, hard enough that she felt the thrust in her throat. She moaned, lost in sensation. He paused, uttering a blissful curse under his breath. Then, rocking back until only the tip of his cock remained inside her, he lifted a hand from her hip and spanked the flesh of her ass with his open palm, providing a delicious little sting.
"Again," she panted.
He let out a deep, throaty chuckle and cracked his hand against her cheek once more. Grabbing a fistful of her skirt at the waist, he slammed his cock into her all the way up to the hilt. This time, they both moaned. He pumped with such force that Amy braced her hands against the seat to keep from sliding forward. With every thrust, zingers of sheer pleasure shot through her flesh, until her mouth locked open in an unending, silent cry of ecstasy.
Reaching around her waist, his fingers swirled against her clit. "Come for me, honey. Let it go."
He drove into her, his movements spiraling to an impossible speed. Amy's orgasm burst into being with a flare of white-hot rapture. She smothered her cries in the seat cushion as contractions rippled through her. Kellan's thrusts became erratic. With a final plunge and a breathy grunt, he collapsed over her.
His hand snuck beneath her sweater to stroke her perspiration-dampened back. Gradually, he withdrew and went through the motions of wrapping the condom in a tissue and setting his clothes in order. She should have felt sated, dreamy even, but she didn't. She wanted more from him than this quickie. Cringing at the unwanted epiphany, she sat up and fingered the cleanly sliced edge of her panties.
"Thank you for tonight," she said, forcing a smile. "It was everything I needed." If only that were true.
He looked her way, a grin dancing on his lips. "Our night together isn't over yet. You've got the drive to my house to recover before I carry you up to my bed and make love to you as slowly and sweetly as I can stand to go. We did it your way this time, but for the rest of the night, we're doing it mine."
Melissa Cutler is a Southern California native. She has a passion for happily-ever-after stories, blue collar heroes, and intelligent heroines. She divides her time between writing sexy cowboy contemporaries for Kensington Books and edge-of-your-seat romantic suspense for Harlequin. Find out more about Melissa and her books at www.melissacutler.net or write to her at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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