want you to be held accountable for your actions.”
“Do you even know what the hell you’re saying?” His voice hissed like sizzling hot coals splashed with ice-cold water.
Did she? Probably not.
All she knew was that she ached deep inside. An ache that caught fire the moment he’d picked her up on the side of the road, an ache that had built steadily from the kiss in the restaurant to culminate here in his bed.
She craved him in a wholly physical way. Hungry need bit into her. Below her waist she felt a demanding stirring. She had never experienced such a strong sexual sensation. To date, her desires had been sedate stirrings. Mild interest. Academic curiosity. Nothing like this full-bore yearning that made her heedless to everything sensible and right.
“Annie,” he whispered hoarsely, and the next thing she knew he was pulling her to him.
His arms encircled her. It felt good. It felt right. She pursed her lips, waiting for his kiss.
When it came, the kiss was light, seductive. A sweet tease. She moaned softly and burrowed closer.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, slipped his mouth from hers to slide slowly to her neck. When he got to the underside of her jaw, his kisses turned to tender nibbles. Erotic sensation swamped her entire body, skipping from nerve ending to nerve ending, a joyous warning of what was in store.
She wanted this. Wanted it more than she could say. But she worried that if she made love with him, she would be forever changed. That she couldn’t go back to her well-ordered, well-planned life. That once she tasted of the cowboy myth she would discover it was not myth at all, but a way of life she could no longer live without.
She made a soft noise, a high reedy sound, half protest, half plea. She wanted him to take the reins, to leave her helpless and breathless. Pleasure, unlike anything she’d ever experienced addled her brain, left her witless.
“Tell me,” Brady said, his hands skimming over the silky material of her peignoir. “What do you like?”
“What do you like?” she said, using her fall-back technique of answering a question with a question. She had learned that answering a question with a question gave her time to gather her thoughts and formulate a plan. The delaying tactic offered her some small measure of control, and as a woman whose life was not her own, she took a great deal of comfort in it.
“I’m a pretty simple guy,” he said. “The basics work for me. I don’t need anything fancy, but I’m not opposed to it if that’s what you’re into. A little light bondage? Role-playing? Sex toys?”
“Goodness.” She had not expected that.
“But I’m very satisfied with regular sex. I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”
“Meat and potatoes.” She laughed. “What does that mean?”
“Just you and me and the equipment God gave us.”
“My.” She giggled. “Do you have protection?”
“I’ve got condoms. How about you? Are you on the pill?”
“The pill has been taken care of.” The royal physician had started her on birth control pills to control irregular periods.
“So why are we still talking?” he asked gruffly. “I want you, you want me.”
Yes, she did want him. Very much. But this was her first time. She didn’t know how to tell him that. She knew well enough that an almost twenty-five-year-old virgin was an anomaly in this day and age. “I . . . well . . . Can we take this slowly?”
“Buttercup, slow is my modus operandi,” he drawled in a sultry, dark voice that sent delighted shivers through her.
“That’s good,” she said, relieved.
“Now, let’s stop talking and start kissing.”
Chapter Five
You might be a princess if . . . you’re a twenty-five-year-old virgin.
E very sensible bone in Brady’s body was telling him that this was not a good idea. He knew better than to get involved with a secret-keeping woman. He had the self-control to turn her down. Or at least he thought he did until
“Do you even know what the hell you’re saying?” His voice hissed like sizzling hot coals splashed with ice-cold water.
Did she? Probably not.
All she knew was that she ached deep inside. An ache that caught fire the moment he’d picked her up on the side of the road, an ache that had built steadily from the kiss in the restaurant to culminate here in his bed.
She craved him in a wholly physical way. Hungry need bit into her. Below her waist she felt a demanding stirring. She had never experienced such a strong sexual sensation. To date, her desires had been sedate stirrings. Mild interest. Academic curiosity. Nothing like this full-bore yearning that made her heedless to everything sensible and right.
“Annie,” he whispered hoarsely, and the next thing she knew he was pulling her to him.
His arms encircled her. It felt good. It felt right. She pursed her lips, waiting for his kiss.
When it came, the kiss was light, seductive. A sweet tease. She moaned softly and burrowed closer.
He threaded his fingers through her hair, slipped his mouth from hers to slide slowly to her neck. When he got to the underside of her jaw, his kisses turned to tender nibbles. Erotic sensation swamped her entire body, skipping from nerve ending to nerve ending, a joyous warning of what was in store.
She wanted this. Wanted it more than she could say. But she worried that if she made love with him, she would be forever changed. That she couldn’t go back to her well-ordered, well-planned life. That once she tasted of the cowboy myth she would discover it was not myth at all, but a way of life she could no longer live without.
She made a soft noise, a high reedy sound, half protest, half plea. She wanted him to take the reins, to leave her helpless and breathless. Pleasure, unlike anything she’d ever experienced addled her brain, left her witless.
“Tell me,” Brady said, his hands skimming over the silky material of her peignoir. “What do you like?”
“What do you like?” she said, using her fall-back technique of answering a question with a question. She had learned that answering a question with a question gave her time to gather her thoughts and formulate a plan. The delaying tactic offered her some small measure of control, and as a woman whose life was not her own, she took a great deal of comfort in it.
“I’m a pretty simple guy,” he said. “The basics work for me. I don’t need anything fancy, but I’m not opposed to it if that’s what you’re into. A little light bondage? Role-playing? Sex toys?”
“Goodness.” She had not expected that.
“But I’m very satisfied with regular sex. I’m a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”
“Meat and potatoes.” She laughed. “What does that mean?”
“Just you and me and the equipment God gave us.”
“My.” She giggled. “Do you have protection?”
“I’ve got condoms. How about you? Are you on the pill?”
“The pill has been taken care of.” The royal physician had started her on birth control pills to control irregular periods.
“So why are we still talking?” he asked gruffly. “I want you, you want me.”
Yes, she did want him. Very much. But this was her first time. She didn’t know how to tell him that. She knew well enough that an almost twenty-five-year-old virgin was an anomaly in this day and age. “I . . . well . . . Can we take this slowly?”
“Buttercup, slow is my modus operandi,” he drawled in a sultry, dark voice that sent delighted shivers through her.
“That’s good,” she said, relieved.
“Now, let’s stop talking and start kissing.”
Chapter Five
You might be a princess if . . . you’re a twenty-five-year-old virgin.
E very sensible bone in Brady’s body was telling him that this was not a good idea. He knew better than to get involved with a secret-keeping woman. He had the self-control to turn her down. Or at least he thought he did until
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