Take Me, Cowboy by Maisey Yates Page B

through.
    Chase—gentleman that he was—obliged her.
    He angled his head, reaching up to cup her breast as he did, his mouth crashing down on hers just as his palm skimmed her nipple. She gasped, arching up against him, the combination of sensations almost too much to handle.
    Yeah, she did not remember sex being like this. Granted, it had been a million years, but she would have remembered if it had come anywhere close to this. And her conclusion most certainly wouldn’t have been that it was vaguely boring and a little bit gross. Not if it had even been in the same ballpark as what she was feeling now.
    There was no point in comparing. There was just flat out no comparison.
    He kissed her, long, deep and hard; he kissed her until she couldn’t breathe. Until she thought she was going to die for wanting more. He kissed her until she was dizzy. And when he abandoned her mouth, she nearly wept. Until he lowered his head and skimmed his tongue over one hardened bud, until he drew it between his lips and sucked hard, before scraping her sensitized flesh with his teeth.
    She arched against him, desperate for more. Desperate for satisfaction. Satisfaction he seemed intent on withholding.
    â€œI’m so close,” she said, panting. “Just do it now.” Then it would be over. Then she would have what she needed, and the howling, yawning ache inside of her would be satisfied.
    â€œNo,” he said, his tone authoritative.
    â€œWhat do you mean no?”
    â€œNot yet. You’re not allowed to come yet, Anna. I’m not done.”
    His words, the calm, quiet command, made everything inside of her go still. She wanted to fight him. Wanted to rail against that cruel denial of her needs, but she couldn’t.
    Not when this part of him was so compelling. Not when she wanted so badly to see where complying would lead.
    â€œWe’re not done,” he said, tracing her nipple with the tip of his tongue, “until I say we are.” He lifted his head so that their eyes met, the prolonged contact touching something deep inside of her. Something that surpassed the physical.
    He kissed her again, and as he did, he pulled his T-shirt over his head, exposing his incredible body to her.
    Her mouth dried, and other parts of her got wet. Very, very wet.
    â€œOh, sweet Lord,” she said, pressing her hand to his chest and drawing her fingertips down over his muscles, his chest hair tickling her skin as she did.
    It was a surreal moment. So strange and fascinating. To touch her best friend like this. To see his body this way, to know that—right now—it wasn’t off-limits to her. To know that she could lean forward and kiss that beautiful, perfect dip just next to his hip bone. Suddenly, she was seized with the desire to do just that. And she didn’t have to fight it.
    She pushed against him, bringing herself into a sitting position, lowering her head and pressing her lips to his heated skin.
    â€œOh, no, you don’t,” he said, his voice rough. He took hold of her wrist, drawing her up so that she was on her knees, eye to eye with him on the couch. “We’re not finishing it like that,” he said.
    â€œDamn straight we aren’t,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to get a little taste.”
    â€œYou give way too much credit to my self-control, honey.”
    â€œYou give too much credit to mine. I’ve never...” She stared at his chest instead of finishing her sentence. “It’s like walking into a candy store and being told I can have whatever I want. Restraint is not on the menu.”
    â€œGood,” he said, leaning in, kissing her, nipping her lower lip. “Restraint isn’t what I want.”
    He wrapped his arm around her, drawing her up against him, her bare breasts pressing against his hard chest, the hair there abrading her nipples in the most fantastic, delicious way.
    And then he was