Page 11 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Cowboy

“The marriage license sure feels real to me. The meeting in front of the judge tomorrow feels real, too. And the way you’re skittish around me… Little girl, we’ve got some work to do to make this believable.”

The alternative…confessing it was all a ruse…is terrifying.

Zane smiles at me, his mouth crooking up, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Would it be so bad to be married to a cowboy?”

I blink at him. And then I burst out laughing. “No, of course not. But we don’t know each other.”

“Then we need to rectify that.” He comes closer. “Do you like to be kissed?”

“It’s all right.”

One eyebrow curves up. “Just all right?”

“Very nice, I suppose.”

“Can I kiss you, Daisy? So you can see how I compare?”

It’s really not that many kisses that I have to measure him against, but I don’t want him to know that I’m inexperienced, so I simply nod. If it’s a choice between admitting that I’m a thief and a liar, and having to kiss this tall, muscular, handsome cowboy…I guess I’ll keep the secret about lying forever and ever, amen.

He lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips over my knuckles first, his gaze locked on my face as his warm breath fans over my skin like a glorious summer breeze.

I shiver.

“That’s all right?”

I nod.

He turns my hand over and presses a kiss to the center of my palm, and that’s like the sun coming from behind a cloud at high noon, suddenly blazing hot.

With a shocked exhale, I close my eyes and feel that heat ripple beneath my skin.

“Still nice?”

“Mmm,” I manage.

His mouth drags to the inside of my wrist, his lips parting, and his…his tongue slicks against my skin unexpectedly. I gasp and yank my hand out of his grip.

Breathing hard, I stare at him. “What was that?”

His grin is lazy and indulgent. “A kiss.”

“That’s not a kiss. You licked me.”

“Licking is a part of kissing, darling.”

“Not for me, it isn’t!”

“Then you’ve been kissing all wrong.”

I rub at my wrist.

He waits, watching me. His gaze is just as soft and indulgent as his smiles, but I was wrong to call his expressions lazy. There’s a patience there that feels anything but. Almost as if he would prefer to act, but knows he better not.

As if he knows to be careful with me, and that makes my eyes burn.

I duck my head and hear myself start talking. “I haven’t really kissed anyone, or been kissed, like that. I’ve only had some kisses on the mouth, sort of standard, you know?”

“Standard.” His voice deepens. “I’m not sure I do know.”

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