The Cowboy's Pride and Joy

And suddenly that was too much. He tore his mouth from hers, stared down into her eyes and said, “Upstairs. Now.”

“Oh, yes.”

He took her hand and led her from the room, and Cass was forced to run to keep up with his much longer strides. Her breathing was staggered, her pulse pounding, and when they hit the stairs, she was just a step behind him. Which was apparently too slow for Jake.

Stopping, he turned, swung her into his arms and took the rest of the oak staircase two steps at a time. “Wow. When you say now, you’re not kidding.”

He grinned down at her and Cass’s heart tumbled in her chest. “No point in wasting time once the decision’s made, is there?”

“No point at all.” She hooked her arms around his neck and let herself enjoy being swept—literally—away. It was romantic, a gorgeous, muscular guy carrying her up a grand staircase to a bed that was— “That is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.”

Jake gave her another smile and said, “Custom made. Big enough for me to stretch out.”

“With a dozen of your closest friends,” Cass whispered as he walked up to what had to be a king and a half mattress.

His room was as beautiful as the rest of the place, in a purely masculine fashion. Not that she had a lot of time to look around, but in a fast glance, she caught the dark red duvet on the mattress, and black leather chairs pulled up in front of a stone hearth where a fire burned brightly. The windows were bare, providing what would in daytime be a sweeping view of the ranch and the lake far below. There were bookcases, tables, and an adjoining door that probably led to the attached bath.

But most of her concentration was fixed on that bed. Especially when he laid her down onto the mattress and loomed over her.

“You’re thinking,” he accused warily. “Not changing your mind, are you?”

“Not a chance.”

“Good to know,” he said, lying down beside her and gathering her into his arms with a strength that sent chills racing along her spine.

His kiss woke every nerve ending in her body, leaving them all screaming for more. Her mouth opened under his and his kiss deepened until all she could think about was the next taste of him. This was what she had wanted. The mind-numbing passion that had eluded her for her entire life. Here, in his arms, she was thrown headfirst into a tumult of emotions and sensations that were too many, and coming too fast, to even identify them all.

And it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but having his hands on her. She felt him tug at her shirt and she moved to help him strip it off. The cool, slick feel of the duvet chilled her skin even as his touch heated her through. He tore his mouth from hers as if desperately in need of air, but then shifted to drag his mouth down the line of her throat, his lips and tongue leaving a line of fire in their wake.

She gasped and arched into him when his fingers undid the clasp at the front of her bra and spilled her breasts into his palms. At his first touch, she half lifted off the bed, moving into him as his fingers and thumbs tweaked and tugged at her nipples, pleasure darting through her at every action.

Her breath came in short, hard gasps when he took first one hardened nipple then the other into his mouth. His tongue did amazing things to her skin, his hot breath brushing her flesh with more heat than she thought she could bear.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, his voice a tight groan in the firelit night. He lifted his head and looked at her. In his eyes, she read more passion than she had ever seen before. “Cassie, I want you badly enough that I can’t promise to go slow.”

Cassie. No one in her life called her Cassie and she liked it. It spoke of intimacy, a connection beyond the physical that only added to what she was feeling already. Hunger pumped through her. A need to lose herself in the feel of him.

“Who needs slow?” she answered softly and her words were swallowed by the cavernous room.

He grinned at her and her heart responded with that wild tumble again. What did he do to her? How did he do it? Days she’d known him and yet, to Cassidy, it felt as if somehow she’d always known him.

His hands were everywhere; she felt him. Every touch, every slice of heat that speared through her, driven by his caress. She moved and writhed on the bed, drowning in the feelings overtaking her. Too many, yet not nearly enough.

He dragged his mouth down the length of her body, stopping only when he came to the waistband of her jeans. Then his fingers quickly undid them and slid them down her legs and off. Her fingers fumbled with his clothes, too, and he let her have her way. She skimmed her palms up and across his hard, muscled chest, loving how the hard planes of bronzed skin heated her hands.