The Cowboy's Unexpected Family

“I suppose.”

His devilish grin was back. “Why, Ms. Alatore, I had no idea you were so naughty.”

I’m not, she thought. It’s you. It’s us. I’ve never done anything like this. I’ve never felt even a tenth of what you’re making me feel and we still have our clothes on.

He brushed his face against her neck, the rough scrape of his beard sending sensation racing over and under her skin. His breath kissed her skin, her cheeks, the points of her ears.

Oh, she was melting inside, melting against him. He pushed a knee between her legs as if to keep her up, and she thanked him by pressing her hot core against the hard muscle of his leg. Riding it, her own thigh pressed high against his erection and he leaned his head against the wall beside hers. Groaned low in his throat.

Reckless, wild with adrenaline and lust, she put her hand against the hard muscles of his stomach and slipped her palm down and under the waist of his pants until her fingers touched the top of his erection. The soft spongy head, the little drops of liquid he couldn’t control.

His hand helped hers unbutton his jeans and she sighed with delight as she had full access to Jeremiah. She cupped him, reached beneath his erection to find all of him, and he growled, clenching her hair in his hands as he kissed her.

Wild, he kissed her with none of the finesse she’d expected from a man like Jeremiah. No teasing. No seduction. It was rabid need and barely controlled. It was Jeremiah as she’d never, ever thought she’d see him. Utterly undone and at her mercy. His hips arched into her hands and she stroked him, harder, faster, not sure of where this was going, but not wanting to stop.

“Lucy,” he breathed, biting her lips, sucking on the skin of her neck. “Oh, God, baby, it’s so good. So. Good.”

She didn’t realize but she was bucking her hips against his knee, pushing herself toward her own orgasm even as she pushed him toward his. She felt powerful and feminine and desired in the extreme.

“Baby.” He put his hands over hers, stopping her though he couldn’t seem to stop himself from pushing himself through their fingers. He hissed, arching his head back, and she licked his throat.

His laughter was dark and pained, and he stepped back. She followed but he put a hand at her hip. Between her legs fire raged and she felt as if she’d had a thousand too many drinks.

“I don’t have any condoms.”

It took a second for the words to make sense.

“Do you?” he asked. She would have laughed at his hopeful expression if she’d been able to. Instead, she shook her head.

He swore, resting his forehead against hers. “Probably for the best. I don’t want the first time I have sex with you to be outside a bar.”

“That’s very sweet, Jeremiah, but I’m dying.”

His lip quirked. “Dying?”

“You have no idea.”

He glanced down at the shadows between his legs where she knew his erection was probably pounding in time with his heartbeat. Much like what was happening between her legs.

Slowly, one by one, her fingers found him, curled over the hard muscle and skin, until he was back in her palm, stepping toward her willingly.

“There are other things we can do,” she whispered. She took his hand and put it against her breast.

Jeremiah was a smart man and she didn’t have to give him any more hints. His big, broad hand, those long calloused fingers, cupped her breast, found the hard point of her nipple and rolled it slowly until the tension hurt. Deliciously.

“Is this what you want?” he breathed.

“More.”

Both hands slipped up under her shirt. Rough, his hands yanked at the lace and silk of her bra until something tore and she loved it. Yes. Yes and yes. A barely in control cowboy was what she wanted. What she’d needed and never known.

His fingers pulled at her nipples, his eyes watched her face, gauging just how much pain she liked with her pleasure until he found the combination that made her wild.

She used her thumb to gather what moisture leaked from the top of his erection and spread it down the shaft. And then again. Again. Faster.

“That’s what you want?” he asked through clenched teeth, his hands fumbling at the button at the top of her jeans. In a heartbeat, his hand was down her pants, twisting, shifting until...

“Oh God. Yes!” she cried as his finger, one and then another, speared into the slick heat of her. His thumb found the hard ridge that made her see stars. Her hand squeezed his erection until he laughed, pained.

“You,” he said, lifting her hand away from his body. “You first.”

He worked her. Owned her.

She cried out, her head tilted back. “You have to be quiet,” he breathed in her ear, even that sensation sending her someplace new.