The Cowboy and the Princess by Lori Wilde Page B

cupped them. The size of navel oranges.
    Her nipples beaded tight and she arched her back. “Please . . .”
    “You want me to suck your nipple?”
    She nodded mutely.
    He grinned and lowered his head, pulled that saucy nipple into his mouth, ran his tongue over the tight bud.
    Annie went wild. She gasped and jammed her fingers through his hair. Her breath shot out hot and raspy. He increased the pressure and she squirmed against him.
    “Ooh, ooh.”
    “Now for the other one.” He moved to the other side, parting her nightie out of the way to find the nipple of her right breast just as eager and hungry as the other.
    “I . . . I . . . I . . .”
    “What is it, Buttercup?”
    Her head thrashed against the pillow. “I never knew. I never knew.”
    “Never knew what?”
    “It could feel . . . I could feel . . . Oh, Brady, I can feel .”
    He smirked against her nipple. Yeah, okay, he was proud of himself. He knew his way around the female body. If that made him a braggart, then so be it. But pleasing her pleased him. He liked making her feel good.
    Romantic. He was making this romantic. It wasn’t romantic. Just scratching an itch. Fun. They were having fun. Nothing wrong with that as long as they both had their eyes wide open and their hearts closed up tight, because he did not know her. She was on the run. A smart cowboy would not be here, but Brady, well, no one had ever accused him of being Einstein.
    Annie’s slender fingers traced his rib cage hesitantly. “I want . . .”
    “Yes?”
    “More. I want more.”
    “I can handle that.” He went to work in earnest. Taking his time, but moving things along, heating her up. Hands touched. Lips kissed. Breath intermingled.
    Annie was responsive, but underneath it all she seemed inexperienced. Was she really twenty-four? That gave him pause.
    “You sure you’re over eighteen,” he said.
    “I am.”
    “You sure this is what you want to do?”
    “Certain.”
    “You can back out now. Things haven’t gone too far.”
    “I want you,” she confirmed.
    Brady swallowed and asked himself the same questions. Was this what he wanted to do? Did he want to back out before things had gone too far? Before he had time to fully process the repercussions, Annie raised his T-shirt and started planting kisses along his belly.
    His body responded. Going harder than he thought possible. He tensed, waiting to see where her hand would travel.
    She stopped short at the waistband of his underwear. In the darkness, her eyes met his. The glow of the nightlight over the sink cast faint illumination throughout the trailer.
    They deadlocked there. Gazes fused. Neither moving. Simply breathing.
    Her lips parted and he claimed her mouth again. He always enjoyed kissing, but he couldn’t seem to get enough of those lips. Many guys he knew didn’t like kissing or even foreplay very much. They got straight to the action. Poor dumb slobs. Look at all the great tension they lost out on.
    You’re losing out too. Going at this so soon. Where’s the teasing and the banter and the flirting? He liked the buildup, the thrill of the chase; by tumbling into bed with her so quickly they were missing out on a lot of fun. Where the hell is your self-control?
    It was shot, busted, gone. The buildup between him and Annie had been condensed into a few short hours and came on hard and strong. Stronger than any attraction he had felt in a very long time, and Brady couldn’t say why. But there was something about her that he couldn’t resist. Something more than the wild-eyed, vulnerable, beauty-in-distress thing she had going on. Although he had to confess, he did find that appealing. Why did he have this need to rescue women?
    Maybe because no one had rescued him?
    That wasn’t fair. His brothers tried to rescue him. But he’d been a lost cause.
    No, there was something about Annie that you didn’t find in most modern women. Perhaps it was because she was a contradiction in terms—on