Wrangling the Redhead by Sherryl Woods

taken aback by his honesty. “What are you saying, Wade?”
    He swallowed hard and forced himself to say it. “I want you. God knows I don’t want to, but I do.”
    The reply made her frown. “If it makes you this uncomfortable, maybe you should keep fighting the urge.”
    “Probably should,” he agreed, allowing his thumbsto begin a slow massage of the petal-soft skin along her collarbone. He caught the pulse jumping at his touch, the quick rise of heat in her cheeks. “But then I ask myself why we should deny ourselves something that promises to be so incredible.”
    He dared a bolder caress, a skimming touch that traced the curve of her breast, flicking across the peak in a way that left it pebble-hard against her blouse. He heard the hitch of her breath, caught the unmistakable flare of desire in her eyes. His own body was rock-hard with anticipation, the bulge in his jeans unmistakable. He watched her eyes go even darker when she caught sight of it.
    “Wade?”
    He wasn’t entirely certain if it was a question or a plea. He smoothed her hair back, then rubbed his thumb across her lower lip. His own pulse began to pound when she stunned him by drawing his thumb into her mouth and sucking on it.
    The game had started out of a sense of yearning he didn’t quite know how to handle. Now it had turned serious, and while he knew the rules of this particular game, knew the moves that brought pleasure and the dangerous pitfalls of playing, he couldn’t predict which of them would win. Maybe both of them would. Maybe it didn’t even matter. Maybe, for now, it was just about the game itself.
    He drew her closer, tighter, until she was pressed against the heat of his arousal. For an instant that was enough. But then an agony of wanting tore through him, even as she reached up and dragged his head down until his mouth met hers in a crushing kiss.
    From the moment they’d met, from the first fiery exchange of words, he’d known that Lauren was a passionate woman, but he hadn’t expected both of them to go up in flames so fast, so furiously. She was tugging frantically at his shirt, at the buckle on his belt, skimming nails over bare skin. He peeled off her blouse and bra in a single move that sent buttons flying and left the clothes in a tangled heap somewhere in the barn.
    They were committed to the game now, no question about that. Her soft little moans were enough to heat a statue and bring it to life. Her caresses were brazen, catching him off guard and stealing his breath and any last lingering shred of sanity.
    He slid down from his perch on the stall door, scooped her up and carried her inside to the bed of clean straw. He stripped off his shirt and laid it down, then slowly lowered her. She never hesitated at the makeshift bed, earning his respect and his undying gratitude. He wasn’t sure he could have made it all the way to his house without exploding with this neediness she stirred in him. Thank heaven for the condom tucked in his wallet. Hopefully it hadn’t dry-rotted from old age.
    Lauren was already wriggling out of her jeans, no easy task since they got hung up on her boots. Wade refrained from chuckling at the ungraceful effort.
    “Hey,” he said, drawing her attention. “What say we slow this down?”
    “No,” she said tersely, tugging impatiently at a boot.
    Something in her voice set off an alarm. The urgency of desire was one thing. Panic was quite another.
    “Lauren, what’s the hurry?”
    She did hesitate then. The confusion in her eyes came close to breaking his heart, to say nothing of its effect on his libido.
    “You afraid of changing your mind?” he asked.
    She closed her eyes and went limp, then sighed and looked straight into his eyes. “Maybe.”
    “Then we don’t do this,” he said, managing a calm note despite the protest raging through his blood. “It’s as simple as that.”
    “But I want you,” she insisted.
    “I know. That’s plain enough,” he said, caressing