Page 68 of The Saloon Girl's Only Shot

She nodded.

He reached up to douse the lamp while she turned the latch on the door.

“Sorry, pal. You stay in here for now.” He blocked the dog from entering. They’d brought his blanket into the parlor earlier. He’d be fine.

Owen closed the door behind them, cloaking them in the darkness of a room lit only by the faint moonlight breaking through the window.

They kissed again. Urgently. Freely. She let her thoughts fall away, giving herself over to the swell of desire rising with each beat of her heart.

His hand searched all over her, drawing slow circles and pressing her skirts into the crease of her bottom and pausing to lightly clench, as though he suffered his own waves of intense want.

When he began to unbutton her gown, she helped, then lifted her arms as he peeled it up and floated it over the back of the chair.

“This is all I think about,” he whispered as he pressed her to the edge of the bed. “Touching you. Feeling you. Tasting...” His mouth was stealing to her collarbone as he followed the square neckline of her chemise.

The soft prickle of his whiskers stole her breath. She cupped his jaw and tried to bring him back to kiss her, but he only took one brief sip of her lips before he turned his mouth against the inside of her bare arm.

This was new to her. She wasn’t being driven by curiosity and a need to prove her feelings for him. He was raining pleasure upon her, truly seducing her by soaking her in need.

“Take off your shirt,” she whispered, wanting to feel his skin.

His hand moved between them, unbuttoning his vest while he turned his head to open his teeth against the swell of her breast.

She gasped and he pulled back, chuckling softly. “Wait until I do that when you’re naked.”

Naked. Yes. She unbuttoned her petticoat. It was discarded along with his vest and shirt. He shifted her on the bed and pressed over her. They kissed again and again while his wide hand stole into the neckline of her chemise and captured her breast.

“Ah, that’s nice,” he murmured, cradling her shape with great tenderness, drawing patterns with his fingertips that made her breast swell and ache. When his thumb flicked across her nipple, she flinched at the sharp sensation that pulsed into her loins.

He made a soothing noise and shifted so the heat of his mouth opened over her nipple. His tongue moved the thin muslin against it, creating a dull friction that had her curling her arms around his neck to draw him closer, wanting to both escape and succumb to his torture.

Her hands couldn’t resist coasting all over his naked back. Despite the chill in the air, he was hot. Smooth. She tugged at her chemise between them.

“I want to feel your skin with mine.”

His breath rattled in his chest, and he pulled back to skim away the final layers of cotton.

She shivered, but it wasn’t really a chill, more an awareness that she was being wicked while wanting it to happen anyway. At least he couldn’t really see her in this near total darkness, reaching for him as though he were her savior.

He gathered her in, and the brush of their skin pulled a pang of joy from her throat. She filled her hands with him, arching, frustrated that he’d kept his trousers on, so they abraded her leg as she coiled it around his.

He really did want to kiss every inch of her. He was pressing his mouth to her shoulder and her breast and rolling her onto her front so he could pool his hot breath against her spine. He nuzzled from her nape to her lower back, making her squirm. Making her ache between her legs in a way that filled her with wanton yearnings.

He stroked the backs of her thighs and shaped her backside, sapping her strength, so when he rolled her onto her back again and pressed his damp kisses on her belly, she only threaded her fingers into his hair and shook with need.

“Will you please...” She clenched her eyes tight, deeply embarrassed to ask. “Do what you did...the other time?”

“This?” His lazy fingertip tickled along the line of her sex, the caress so light, she barely felt it, but he drew forth a hard pulse beat anyway, making it the worst possible tease.

“Yes,” she gasped. “But more.”

“Oh, Rose,” he groaned. “I’m going to give you so much more than that.” He shifted both of them, so he was half off the bed. He lifted one of her legs to his other side, so she was splayed open before him.

As the dim shape of his head started to duck, she cried, “You can’t!”

He froze. “Cannot? Or may not?”

His breath was stirring those fine hairs and making her desire pulse all the harder between her thighs.

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