away from her
small, taut breasts and let it fall. Standing in her knickers and garter belt
and hose, she kicked the chemise across the polished wood floor and lifted her
arms to remove the hairpins and loosen her long, dark hair.
Her back arched as she moved toward him.
"How do you like me, little Ben?" she whispered. "Hmm?"
"God, you're.. .lovely!" he choked.
"Then don't sit there, lovey dove... Show
Jessica you like her," she whispered, lifting his hands.
She put them on her firm breasts, his palms hard
against the taut, dark nipples, and watched with glittery, excited eyes as he
caressed them.
"Come on, honey. Don't be slow," she
teased, drawing his hands down to her knickers and garter belt.
He removed them with trembling hands, his heart
pounding as he eased them off and peeled down her silky hose. She laughed a
little wildly, sliding back onto the coverlet, glorious in her pink nudity,
moving sensuously on the bed under his intense stare.
"Are you just going to stand there
looking?" she challenged.
"Oh." He blinked. "No, of course
not!" He felt as if it were the first time. His hands were all thumbs as
he got rid of the gray suit and most everything under it.
He had a good body, thank God. Smooth and not
too pale, and fairly muscular.
He removed his shorts and turned, watching her
eyes go down to the explicit masculinity of him.
"Well, my goodness. You're not little Ben
after all, are you, honey?" She laughed softly, holding out her arms.
"Come here, you adorable savage, and love me to death!"
This, at least, was familiar territory. He might
not be the world's greatest reporter, but he knew what to do with a woman. As
she learned, quickly and with some measure of astonishment.
He laughed to himself at her shocked eagerness
when she felt his tongue on the soft, warm inside of her thighs. She was noisy,
all right, he thought as he moved up to her soft breasts and felt her go rigid
and whimper when he caught a dusky, fragrant nipple delicately in his teeth and
nibbled it. Yes, she was going to make a lot of noise. He hoped no one was
close enough to hear her.
WHILE BEN WAS ENJOYING his
evening, Lacy was cursing her own— along with the impulsive threat that had
forced Cole into the intimacy of sharing her room. She was alone, pacing the
floor, dressed in a soft pink cotton gown and flowing robe, and the fact that
they were married didn't make her feel any less like a vamp. It had started out
to be fun, but now she was nervous. She'd felt something new and delicate in
her relationship with Cole all day. A warmth that had been lacking before, a
tender beginning. She didn't want to jeopardize it. But she was so
inexperienced. She knew nothing of men, except what little she'd learned that
unpleasant night with Cole.
She clasped her hands together as she paced the
wooden floor in her bare feet. She hadn't seen Cole since that afternoon. She'd
spent most of it with Marion, talking mostly about Katy. And Cole hadn't come
in for supper. There'd been a sick bull, and he and the veterinarian had spent
the evening worrying over it out in the barn.
Perhaps he'd just been looking for an excuse to
avoid her, she thought miserably. And perhaps he'd go on finding them, every
night...
She spun around as someone quietly opened the
door. She froze in place, staring, as Cole, covered with dust and looking as if
he'd just been brawling with a mob of cattle out on his range walked wearily
into the room.
"How's your bull?" she asked softly.
His dark eyebrows lifted. He even managed a
tired smile as he tugged off his wide-brimmed hat and sailed it across the room
onto a chair. "That wasn't the question I expected, Mrs. Whitehall,"
he replied as he stood before her, tall and overpowering in his lean
masculinity.
"Wasn't it?" she asked, with a demure,
shy smile.
"I need a bath," he said. "And a
lot of sleep." He cocked his head down at her. "Unless...?" he
probed, taking the attack into the enemy camp. He wanted to see if she
small, taut breasts and let it fall. Standing in her knickers and garter belt
and hose, she kicked the chemise across the polished wood floor and lifted her
arms to remove the hairpins and loosen her long, dark hair.
Her back arched as she moved toward him.
"How do you like me, little Ben?" she whispered. "Hmm?"
"God, you're.. .lovely!" he choked.
"Then don't sit there, lovey dove... Show
Jessica you like her," she whispered, lifting his hands.
She put them on her firm breasts, his palms hard
against the taut, dark nipples, and watched with glittery, excited eyes as he
caressed them.
"Come on, honey. Don't be slow," she
teased, drawing his hands down to her knickers and garter belt.
He removed them with trembling hands, his heart
pounding as he eased them off and peeled down her silky hose. She laughed a
little wildly, sliding back onto the coverlet, glorious in her pink nudity,
moving sensuously on the bed under his intense stare.
"Are you just going to stand there
looking?" she challenged.
"Oh." He blinked. "No, of course
not!" He felt as if it were the first time. His hands were all thumbs as
he got rid of the gray suit and most everything under it.
He had a good body, thank God. Smooth and not
too pale, and fairly muscular.
He removed his shorts and turned, watching her
eyes go down to the explicit masculinity of him.
"Well, my goodness. You're not little Ben
after all, are you, honey?" She laughed softly, holding out her arms.
"Come here, you adorable savage, and love me to death!"
This, at least, was familiar territory. He might
not be the world's greatest reporter, but he knew what to do with a woman. As
she learned, quickly and with some measure of astonishment.
He laughed to himself at her shocked eagerness
when she felt his tongue on the soft, warm inside of her thighs. She was noisy,
all right, he thought as he moved up to her soft breasts and felt her go rigid
and whimper when he caught a dusky, fragrant nipple delicately in his teeth and
nibbled it. Yes, she was going to make a lot of noise. He hoped no one was
close enough to hear her.
WHILE BEN WAS ENJOYING his
evening, Lacy was cursing her own— along with the impulsive threat that had
forced Cole into the intimacy of sharing her room. She was alone, pacing the
floor, dressed in a soft pink cotton gown and flowing robe, and the fact that
they were married didn't make her feel any less like a vamp. It had started out
to be fun, but now she was nervous. She'd felt something new and delicate in
her relationship with Cole all day. A warmth that had been lacking before, a
tender beginning. She didn't want to jeopardize it. But she was so
inexperienced. She knew nothing of men, except what little she'd learned that
unpleasant night with Cole.
She clasped her hands together as she paced the
wooden floor in her bare feet. She hadn't seen Cole since that afternoon. She'd
spent most of it with Marion, talking mostly about Katy. And Cole hadn't come
in for supper. There'd been a sick bull, and he and the veterinarian had spent
the evening worrying over it out in the barn.
Perhaps he'd just been looking for an excuse to
avoid her, she thought miserably. And perhaps he'd go on finding them, every
night...
She spun around as someone quietly opened the
door. She froze in place, staring, as Cole, covered with dust and looking as if
he'd just been brawling with a mob of cattle out on his range walked wearily
into the room.
"How's your bull?" she asked softly.
His dark eyebrows lifted. He even managed a
tired smile as he tugged off his wide-brimmed hat and sailed it across the room
onto a chair. "That wasn't the question I expected, Mrs. Whitehall,"
he replied as he stood before her, tall and overpowering in his lean
masculinity.
"Wasn't it?" she asked, with a demure,
shy smile.
"I need a bath," he said. "And a
lot of sleep." He cocked his head down at her. "Unless...?" he
probed, taking the attack into the enemy camp. He wanted to see if she
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