The Cowboy's Texas Heart (The Dixons of Legacy Ranch 3)

She wants her wits about her.Jokes aside, this girl had learned from reckless situations. He growled against her skin, nudging his shaft against her again as she pulled on his belt buckle like reins. Why did it both bother him and turn him on more to know he was only a notch on her belt?

Next question.

“You old enough?”

“I’m thirty-one.”

He pulled back and eyed her with a sharp furrow. He was thirty-six. Not a decade younger after all.

“What? Want to check my I.D., Officer?” she smirked, biting that lip.

Yes.He snorted at her amused furrow.

“I’m def not jailbait if that’s what worries you. Want me to sign an affidavit?” she teased.

Shit. He frowned. Not an amusing joke.

“You clean?” he breathed.

“As a whistle,” she exhaled, leaning in to kiss his stubble. “You?”

“As a whistle.” His lips quirked against her skin. “What’d’you want from me?” he murmured as she looked into his eyes, so close, as he brushed the callused pad of his thumb across her lip. God, she’d look hot on her knees.

She ran her hand onto the front of his jeans. He bucked into her touch, hissing.

“What’s with the twenty questions? If this is your one night out this decade”—screw T.R.—“why don’t you put this to good use?” Her hand made another sweep up his fly, causing him to pump helplessly like an eager virgin.

What was she, T.R.’s female clone?

Her teasing, the right kind of husky to make him think of sex, yet a definite soprano, soft and melodic and deceivingly sweet, twisted another rare smile out of him.

“My cousin’s full of shit,” he drawled, pulling the most musical laugh from her throat straight into his ear and down to his pecker. He’d seen her laughing, but he hadn’t heard it until now. Damn. “Just sex,” he murmured, resuming his nips to her neck. “I don’t date.”

One and done, sweetheart.They never fully agreed. Coyly, they all hinted at a number swap, forcing him into the awkward post-sex disentanglement.

“Good, because I sure as hell don’t need an attachment,” she replied, surprising him, making him furrow his brow. She’d been burned.

She planted a kiss straight to his lips.

Shocked by the sudden contact, he ripped away, eyed her hard. His lips tingled. Kisses were personal. Kisses required a name and number. She was full of surprises. And yet, that kiss felt like a shove off a cliff. He sank his mouth back to hers, sliding his palms over her cheeks, into her hair, breaking his rules for her, his hat knocking to the floor into God only knew what puddle as he yanked his wallet out, freed a foil square. She popped open his belt buckle, unzipped him, shucked his jeans down his ass, and he bobbed blessedly free, stabbing her in the belly with his anxious appendage. She plucked the condom from him, tore it open and discarded the wrapper as he devoured her lips, as she primed him with pumps until he groaned and buckled and yanked her skirt up unceremoniously.

His palms slid around her thighs, so blasted soft, lips and teeth gnashing lips and teeth.

“Legs. Around me.” He grunted the command, hoisting her up, and a thrill shot through him when she did exactly that, her sexy heeled ankle boots locking around his rear, rolling her sex against him as he pinned her to the wall with his weight. “You wanna stop, say the word.”

He might die if she did, but he’d grit his teeth and suffer. The lawyer in him needed to hear the words of agreement before he plunged balls deep.

“Something tells me I’d regret stopping,” she breathed. “Less talk, more rock, cowboy.”

Gauntlet thrown down. Music pulsed through the bathroom walls, vibrating the mirror, pounding bass matching the primal pulse pounding through his veins as he hooked her panties sideways and swept a finger across the seam between her thighs.

“Dammit, sweetheart, how does a guy say no to you?” he growled.

His words caught in his throat as she rocked herself upon his helm, lining herself up upon him, her eyes, so close, fluttering open to stare at him, lips still upon lips.

“Do your damnedest, Hercules,” she taunted, whispering, biting that lip as if she knew it turned him into a melting puddle of fantasies. “Ever since I saw you fingering that guitar, I knew I had to—”

Jeezus,he bucked, seated himself in one slick thrust, her words zapping him like a cattle prod. She cried out, gripped him, ground down upon him as he held her thighs and ass cheeks.