Page 45 of Second Chance With a Cowboy

Chevy leaned his forehead against hers, a little out of breath himself. “That was so damn…”

“Hot,” she finished for him.

“Yeah. And now I just want to get you in a bed and under me.”

Feeling brazen and sexy, she grinned up at him. “Race you upstairs.”

She kicked off her sandals and ran for the stairs, shrieking in laughter as he caught her and scooped her into his arms to carry her up and into her room, pausing halfway up and again in the hallway to kiss her before setting her on her bed.

She scooted back against the headboard, flushed with heat, watching as he practically tore off his T-shirt, the perfection of his body making her want to weep, and she couldn’t wait to touch and explore every hard muscled inch of it.

He kicked off his boots and shucked down his jeans, then he was in the bed, the weight of his body on top of her as his lips found hers.

He stopped kissing her only long enough to pull her top over her head and free her of her bra. She wrapped herself around him, desperate to regain everything she’d missed over the last ten years.

She loved the way he looked at her, his eyes hooded, hungry for her. Scorching need coursed through her again as he lavished her breasts with attention, kneading and kissing and sampling their tender tips.

Then his weight was on her again, his breath warm against her ear, his hard body flush against hers, his strong hands gripping her, and everything else fell away. Everything except the feel of this man, the one who had captured her heart all those years ago, and never quite let it go.

She’d spent years trying to forget him, but occasionally, in the middle of the night, in the lonely, dark shadows of her bedroom, she let herself think about him, let herself imagine what he was doing now, and dream about what would have happened if they would have stayed together.

Would their sweet babies have had his dark hair and blue eyes? Would they have spent weekends at the cabin, fishing and hiking and making love under the mountain stars? Would they have gotten married at the ranch like they’d talked about and ridden off in a horse-drawn carriage?

It hurt enough to think about the future they would never have, but sometimes, especially if she’d had a glass of wine,or three, she let herself imagine times like this, with her and Chevy naked in her bed, kissing, touching, caressing. If she could close her eyes, she could remember the feather soft feel of his fingers skimming down her arm before taking her hand.

But this wasn’t a memory. This was happening, and it was heat and heedless need, and her body hummed with tension as the sensations ricocheted through her.

Her short skirt was stretchy cotton, and where he’d earlier pushed it up to her waist, he now pulled it and the tiny panties down her legs and tossed them on the floor.

The fantasies she’d had of them before couldn’t touch the reality of the way they were now, the added broadness of his shoulders, the new strength—and tenderness—of his hands, the rough scrape of his whiskers on the tender parts of her inner thigh, and—lord have mercy—the new things he knew how to do with his tongue.

Oh, the things that man could do with his tongue. Those were what would now fill her middle of the night fantasies.

She leaned across the bed, yanked open the drawer of her nightstand, and tossed the new box of condoms she’d purchased toward Chevy. He caught them in one hand and tore the box open, ripping the cardboard and sending foil packets scattering across the bed and hitting the floor. He nabbed one from between the folds of the sheets, tore it open and covered himself.

Then he was nudging her thighs apart, taking his place between them, and she wrapped her legs around him, acutely aware of every sensation, as they fell into a rhythm—both familiar and new.

A growl hummed in Chevy’s throat as he leaned down to capture her lips. But he didn’t just kiss her, he stole her breath with his desire.

Her body responded, clinging to him as if she were drowning, and he was the only thing that could save her.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice husky and breathless against her neck, claiming her as the rough scrape of his whiskers grazed her skin.

He moved with her, slow at first then faster, rocking her body with need. She took what he offered and demanded more. Shimmers of heat flooded through her, and she thought shemight die from the feeling of pure pleasure pooling in the ache between her legs.

He let out a moan as his restraint slipped, his fingers digging into her hips, his teeth grazing her shoulder. She clutched his back, savoring the sweet torment as he drove her higher and higher. Then she was falling, crying out and giving herself to the exquisite sensations that rolled through her.

He kissed her, catching her cries in his mouth, his strong arms holding her close as his muscles tightened and a low growl hummed against her lips, rocking with her as he matched her release.

Spent, he collapsed on the bed, pulling her to him as he pressed his lips to the side of her head. She lay next to him, emotions rolling through her as she tried to catch her breath.

She was all about logic, and yet, everything about this time with Chevy wasillogical. It didn’t make sense how hard she’d fallen again in such a short time and how deep her feelings already were, but it was real.

They lay together, their breath evening out, the drowsy feeling of great sex washing over her. But this wasn’t just sex, they’d crossed into something new, something different than the fevered fumbling of two teenagers.

This was trust, this was handing over control of herself to this man, the one who’d shattered her heart, and taking a leap of faith that he wouldn’t destroy her again.

Chevy stirred beside her. “Hey,” he said, his voice sleepy and soft. “I have a question to ask, and it’s an important one.”

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