back muscles, lifted my head and gave him a warrior-woman kiss. “I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“You said sex had to have some meaning.”
“That’s how I feel. I can’t help it.”
“Fucking me has meaning?”
Everything inside me stilled. What was he asking me? For some reason, I believed that the next words I said were important. I looked soul-deep into his eyes and said, “Of course it does.”
Chapter 7
Tack didn’t reply, which sent a little stab of disappointment through me.
You scarcely know each other, my snarky inner voice snapped. What did you expect?
He reached over to the bedside table, picked up his watch and checked the time. “We should order supper before it’s too late.”
He rolled to his feet and dealt with the condom, then walked to the bathroom, giving me a view of a narrow white butt and wide tanned shoulders. Thick slabs of muscle flanked a deep valley that traveled the length of his spine. I could fall in love with his body even if the rest of him had no appeal.
I flopped to my back, staring at the ceiling. My thoughts whirled so fast I couldn’t grasp so much as one thing that seemed real. What was that?
It was fucking , my inner voice chided. Don’t make the mistake of confusing it with lovemaking.
I couldn’t count how many times I had come. My body had never been so thoroughly used, titillated and thrilled.
I had planned on getting dressed and going home, but now, maybe not. I wasn’t sure I could walk, much less drive my SUV.
When I heard the flush of the toilet, I turned to my side, propped myself on my elbow and rested my head on my hand, waiting for his return. He came out of the bathroom, giving me a full frontal of all that God had given him. Good grief!
He took my breath. He truly could be a Greek statue. His tanned torso was toned and padded with defined muscle. Black hair dusted well-developed pecs and whorled down to his groin. He obviously didn’t wax or shave his body, which was fine with me. Abs rippled down his stomach. He had those ridges of muscle that traveled from his waist and disappeared into a perfect delta of pubic hair. He was the most perfect specimen of manhood I had ever seen up close and personal. I drank him in.
His penis, still stretched and deep red, nested in a thatch of black, black hair. As incredible as it seemed, I started to think about having it inside me again.
He gave me that familiar half-grin. “Like what you see?”
“What’s not to like? You must work out.”
He knows he has great body, my snarky inner voice put in. How many women have seen him like this? And is one of them waiting back in Midland ?
I shoved those questions right out of my mind. No one had twisted my arm and forced me to be here.
He ran his fingers through his hair as if my remark had embarrassed him. “A little. It’s a habit left over from the army. I don’t go to a gym or anything. I’ve got some equipment in my house. And I work around the ranch sometimes. Cowboying is a pretty good workout.”
Reaching the bedside table, he rummaged in the drawer. His penis was the perfect level for me to reach out and caress him, but I restrained myself.
He came up with a Ruth’s Chris menu, sat down on the edge of the mattress and studied it. His wavy hair stuck out in a dozen directions. I couldn’t keep from giggling. He looked at me across his shoulder. “What? What’s funny?”
I gave him a teasing grin. “Your hair. It’s going every which way.”
He grinned back at me. He had the cutest grin. His face was so classic and perfect, but when he grinned, it took on a “little boy” look.
“I’ll order steaks.”
“Great. As long as you don’t expect me to go out and kill a cow.”
“Another time, maybe.”
“Something small is okay with me. I usually don’t eat a big meal this late in the evening.”
“What, then? A filet?”
“That’s fine.”
He picked up the wine list, scanned it quickly, then looked at
“You said sex had to have some meaning.”
“That’s how I feel. I can’t help it.”
“Fucking me has meaning?”
Everything inside me stilled. What was he asking me? For some reason, I believed that the next words I said were important. I looked soul-deep into his eyes and said, “Of course it does.”
Chapter 7
Tack didn’t reply, which sent a little stab of disappointment through me.
You scarcely know each other, my snarky inner voice snapped. What did you expect?
He reached over to the bedside table, picked up his watch and checked the time. “We should order supper before it’s too late.”
He rolled to his feet and dealt with the condom, then walked to the bathroom, giving me a view of a narrow white butt and wide tanned shoulders. Thick slabs of muscle flanked a deep valley that traveled the length of his spine. I could fall in love with his body even if the rest of him had no appeal.
I flopped to my back, staring at the ceiling. My thoughts whirled so fast I couldn’t grasp so much as one thing that seemed real. What was that?
It was fucking , my inner voice chided. Don’t make the mistake of confusing it with lovemaking.
I couldn’t count how many times I had come. My body had never been so thoroughly used, titillated and thrilled.
I had planned on getting dressed and going home, but now, maybe not. I wasn’t sure I could walk, much less drive my SUV.
When I heard the flush of the toilet, I turned to my side, propped myself on my elbow and rested my head on my hand, waiting for his return. He came out of the bathroom, giving me a full frontal of all that God had given him. Good grief!
He took my breath. He truly could be a Greek statue. His tanned torso was toned and padded with defined muscle. Black hair dusted well-developed pecs and whorled down to his groin. He obviously didn’t wax or shave his body, which was fine with me. Abs rippled down his stomach. He had those ridges of muscle that traveled from his waist and disappeared into a perfect delta of pubic hair. He was the most perfect specimen of manhood I had ever seen up close and personal. I drank him in.
His penis, still stretched and deep red, nested in a thatch of black, black hair. As incredible as it seemed, I started to think about having it inside me again.
He gave me that familiar half-grin. “Like what you see?”
“What’s not to like? You must work out.”
He knows he has great body, my snarky inner voice put in. How many women have seen him like this? And is one of them waiting back in Midland ?
I shoved those questions right out of my mind. No one had twisted my arm and forced me to be here.
He ran his fingers through his hair as if my remark had embarrassed him. “A little. It’s a habit left over from the army. I don’t go to a gym or anything. I’ve got some equipment in my house. And I work around the ranch sometimes. Cowboying is a pretty good workout.”
Reaching the bedside table, he rummaged in the drawer. His penis was the perfect level for me to reach out and caress him, but I restrained myself.
He came up with a Ruth’s Chris menu, sat down on the edge of the mattress and studied it. His wavy hair stuck out in a dozen directions. I couldn’t keep from giggling. He looked at me across his shoulder. “What? What’s funny?”
I gave him a teasing grin. “Your hair. It’s going every which way.”
He grinned back at me. He had the cutest grin. His face was so classic and perfect, but when he grinned, it took on a “little boy” look.
“I’ll order steaks.”
“Great. As long as you don’t expect me to go out and kill a cow.”
“Another time, maybe.”
“Something small is okay with me. I usually don’t eat a big meal this late in the evening.”
“What, then? A filet?”
“That’s fine.”
He picked up the wine list, scanned it quickly, then looked at
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