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

“Mouth on me.” Again, she responded to his gruff demand. She’d given him a taste of mouth-meshing and he was spiraling down that rabbit hole of intimacy.

He nipped her plush lips, swallowing her hitches of breath, soothing the stings with commanding laves of his tongue and matching thrusts. Mine. Damn she was wet. And tight. A perfect holster. And so bold and daring. She didn’t let herself be chased. She’d chased him. And her grin against his mouth as her nails bit into his nape with a delicious sting? She knew what she was doing to him.

He worked her harder, harder, building that avalanche within her with determined strokes.

“Get it, sweetheart,” he encouraged on a grin. Eyes hard on hers with their lips crashing back together. “You feel so good, I ain’t gonna last.”

Vanilla-almond assaulted his nose. He tore his mouth away and buried his face into her hair to ground himself as she moaned and clawed at him and her heels banged his rear as if commanding a stallion to gallop. Women always smelled so damn good. He missed this yin to his yang. His hands running wild beneath her tank top spanned her waist, his thumbs settling on a welt…an incision? Mindlessly, he caressed the scar.

“What happened here, baby?” he husked against her—

She released a death grip and yanked her tank top down, bearing down harder on his lips. “God, oh God,” she whined, a mashed sound, voice jolting hotly with each demanding thrust. “Don’t stop.”

“Attagirl,” he growled, wishing he could lay her out and engulf her slim body within his bulk and hold her as he worked her up instead of fucking her against a dingy bathroom door.

The familiar sensation tingled at the base of his spine as he pistoned faster, his lips back on hers, tongue plying hers. Peppermint. The door banged its latch with each demand of his hips.

“Yes,” she breathed shakily, “God, yes…” She crashed over the edge, squeezing him like a lifeline. He swallowed her cry, drinking it with pure male satisfaction to deliver, galloping himself toward the finish line and drawing out her moans. She clenched upon him. A near roar tore from his mouth and he buried his face into her neck again, tasted her skin, and released a year’s worth of pent-up lust in overwhelming jets until he was drained.

His legs trembled, aftershocks still twitching through him, realizing he’d managed to engulf her anyway in a tangle of limbs around her back and snaking up to palm her head to him as if she were a prize to covet, felt her idle spirals at his neck bring him slowly back to reality and the lazy kisses she was trailing over his face.

“Hey! Some of us need to take a piss!” someone shouted, thumping the door. Maybe it hadn’t just been them rattling it.

He thumped his boot into the door right back. They could wait until she was decent.

He could still feel the report of that explosive orgasm echoing through him like a shotgun blast in a canyon. Her boots unraveling from his hips, even though his body screamed out to hold on a moment longer. Eased free of their union, hissing at how sensitive he was. Immediately missing her warmth as she smoothed down her rumpled skirt. Didn’t look in her eyes as he swiped his hat off the floor and inspected it. Dry. He plopped it on his head, pulled free the loaded condom and disposed of it, rinsing his hands in the sink. Buckled his jeans. Chewed his cheek as he resisted watching her straighten her twisted tank. He didn’t dare glance at her earthy beauty, for fear the freshly bedded look on her face would stay with him after this.

“Need me to call you a cab or something?” he said, voice gravelly and fogged by that adrenaline spike as the blue light of her phone shone upon her while she texted.

“Nope. All good,” she replied gently. She was looking at him, he could feel it. Her fingers clicked the door lock open.

Don’t leave yet.“Got a way to get home?”

“I don’t live here. Passing through for work,” she said softly.

“Your friend still here for you?” he pressed, still unable to look at her, yet holding on just a second longer, staving off that empty feeling that always chased empty sex—

Her palm cupped his cheek as he tucked his wallet in his jeans. His eyes finally flitted to hers. Beautiful amber brown stared up at him. Thoughtful. Aw damn, was she going to get sappy, hint at that number exchange—

“You used to be dimpled,” she smiled. Her thumb brushed the crease in his cheek affectionately. Goose bumps pin-pricked his arms. “What happened in your life to steal it?”

What the hell kind of question was that? He cleared his throat. Didn’t talk.

“This was fun and you were perfect.” Her eyes dipped fondly to his lips as if memories were stamped upon him. Lingered. Then bounced back up to his eyes.

Fleetingly, he thought about kissing her goodbye. Nope. Rip the Band-Aid off, man. You got kids to protect. Got a life. Got a lot on your plate. Got off. Done.

“That was a helluva welcome to Nacogdoches,” she grinned cryptically on a wink, turned, flashing that tattoo—butterfly wings? Then slipped out the door, out of his life, leaving him standing alone like he’d just let something slip through his fingers.

“Don’t close yourself off, Tyler Jake. You’ll let the best things in life slip through your fingers if you do.”

The memory snaked through his mind, shaming him with the familiar guilt he wore like an oxen yoke. But hell if this random woman had just reminded him all too painfully why he’d closed himself off in the first place.