Tempting the Cowboy by Elizabeth Otto Page B

warm flush pumping through his veins wouldn’t go away. Now, he didn’t want it to.
    Her eyes took on a far-off glow. “It didn’t take me long to find out he had a fetish for prostitutes and vodka. Who in the hell could trust a drunk judge with a taste for whores, right? Enter me, the perfect wife. The perfect cover for his vices. Wine didn’t take the stab of that realization away. Getting shot felt better.”
    Crickets roared in Cole’s ears as he righted himself with a hand on the bar, the usual soft timbre of the night suddenly a blaring symphony. Adrenaline pumped through him, jacking his testosterone and fueling him with the urge to rip the judge apart. What a piece of shit. Stunned didn’t quite fit what was tearing through him. Cole let the emotions steer him until he stood before her.
    Enough of fighting it. He wanted a taste—no, he wanted to show Rylan that she was so much more than a sick man’s pawn. Her eyes flashed silver as he placed both palms on her knees. The silk of her dress was like heaven’s own clouds under his hands. It glided easily, lusciously over her legs, and he ran his hands slowly up her thighs. Rylan caught her breath, one hand coming to rest on his shoulder. She dug her fingers in—to hang on, he realized with a swell of ego, not push him away.
    Vanilla notes wafted around him as he brought his face inches from hers. Her lips were parted and so tempting. Denying himself and diverting the encouragement in her expression, Cole leaned in next to her ear. Glossy strands of her hair tickled his mouth and chin. Cole let out a wedged breath and inhaled deeply the smooth scent of woman and blackberry wine. He didn’t know what paralyzed him more, the info dump she’d just let loose or his cock throbbing urgently from her softness in his arms.
    She held her breath for a beat, and it thrilled him. Her free hand found its mark on his other shoulder as his hands moved just a little higher. Cole glanced down at the tight contours of her tender thighs, half bared to him. Just a little higher and he’d see that satiny white string of her thong that she’d flashed him earlier. Just a little more and he’d lose it completely, press his mouth to the inside of her beautiful thigh and work his way up—
    Rylan’s fingers followed his shoulders to the curve of his neck, up until the bare skin heated under her tender caress. Her fingers found his hair. “Are you coming on to me, Mr. Haywood?”
    He bristled a little at the title but shoved it aside as hard as he could. There wouldn’t be any “Mr. Haywood” bullshit. Not right now. His lips dipped behind her left ear. He let a little stream of breath wash over her flesh, making her tremble, before he pressed his mouth to her skin.
    “That would be deliciously, wickedly inappropriate, don’t you think?” He nuzzled the soft column of her throat, his hands going another inch higher toward her hips.
    “Oh, yes.” Her breathy words were more of a moan. Tonight, he wasn’t her boss. He never wanted to be her boss again—hell, he’d quit if it meant one no-strings night with Rylan, to be her lover and get it out of his system. A tremor went through him at the promise of that, a deep realization flagging him.
    “Say my name.” She’d never said it, and he couldn’t go another moment without hearing it. Cole licked the sensitive skin just below her ear before capturing her lobe between his lips as his fingers squeezed her thighs. She jumped a little before sinking into his touch.
    Her smoky voice shook. “Mr. Haywood.”
    “Is that how you really think of me?” Cole held back a growl at the formality, his fingers digging a little harder into the delectable flesh of her thighs. He nipped her ear just enough to make her gasp. Rylan turned her head and broke free, her hands palming his cheeks and positioning his mouth in line with hers. Their breath mingled, hot and sweet.
    “That’s how I should think of you.”
    His fingers slid under