Page 67 of A Nice Day for a Cowboy Wedding

She blinked against the odd sting of tears. She didn’t want to cry, or feel touched—at least not emotionally. She wanted the tide of heat and excitement to carry them away, and she’d deal with all those messy emotions later. When she was alone.

So, she cocked her hip, swept her gaze up and down his tall, broad frame. “Now who’s overdressed?”

His hat had fallen off somewhere along the way, which was a shame, all in all. Still, as he lifted his hands to the buttons of his shirt, nothing was truly a shame. He unbuttoned the row with quick, efficient movements, his dark gaze fastened on hers the entire time. The corner of his mouth turned upward ever so slowly, allcockycowboy, as he shrugged out of the fabric.

Cora inhaled a little sharply herself. He was bronzed skin and dark hair and just the broadest shoulders. She wasn’t supposed to believe in fantasies, but Shane was one come to life. In a million little ways, and a few very large ones.

Very large.

She crossed to him, because, emotions or not, the odd little flutter of nerves or not, time was ticking. And she wanted to spend every second of that time touchinghim.

She pressed her palms to his abdomen, splaying her fingers wide. He was all hard ridges and warm skin. There was a delicious edge to his expression, restrained control. A hot bolt of lust arrowed through her.

Thatshe knew how to deal with. She dropped her fingers to the button of his pants and unfastened it even as she pressed her mouth to his shoulder. She unzipped his jeans, allowing herself to linger in the taste of his skin, to brush her fingers lightly against the thick, hard length of him.

She shuddered with need as his large hand came up to cup her face, crushing his mouth to hers, a fierce kind of want she more than matched in the move. But then everything in him softened, gentled. His grip on her face went light. His mouth turned sweet.

Andthatshe didn’t know what to do with. Sweetness. Affection.Care. The way his fingertips, so rough from all that hard work he did, smoothed the bra strap off her shoulders and tugged her bra down. Scarred, calloused hands with the softest, most reverent touch over the tightened nipples of her breasts, all while his mouth gentled over hers as though she were something precious. Delicate.

It made those tears sting her eyes again, so she pulled back, away, flashing her sassiest smirk. “Lose the pants,” she said, her voice a little rougher, weaker than she’d imagined it’d be.

But he lifted her off the ground again, still surprising her with the ease in which he did it, and, when he laid her out on the bed, that cocky curve back to his mouth, something dark and dangerous was in that brown gaze of his.

It was some kind of amazing he could be both. Sweet and light. Dark and dangerous. Here and somehow hers, for at least a little bit.

He pushed his jeans and boxers down in one easy push, so Cora wiggled out of her underwear. His gaze roamed her body, hot and heavy as a touch.

She crooked a finger at him, the other hand reaching behind her to the nightstand. “Come here,” she said, because, if he kept staring at her like she was some kind of precious jewel, she was pretty sure she was going to break down and cry.

She was damn well going to get some sex out of the deal before she let herself do any of that. So, she tore open the packet and pulled out the condom, focusing on the very important task of rolling it onto him as he knelt beside her.

She made an approving noise in the back of her throat as she positioned the condom on him, then grinned up at him as she rolled it on. His expression was one of grim, fiercecontrol.

And then it broke.

“Hell,” he muttered, leveraging himself above her, positioning himself at her entrance. She grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him down for a kiss so she could squeeze her eyes shut. Focus on sensation instead of feeling.

He slid inside of her, a slow, delicious invasion that had her groaning into his mouth. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her bottom lip, whispering things she barely understood. Tried not to. Because every time she caught a word it was something like “beautiful” or “sweet,” and she didn’t know how those things could possibly be applied to someone like her. Especially from someone like him.

So she focused on the feel of his hard body above hers. The hot, heavy brand of his hand on her hip, the soft unexpected sweetness of his mouth in contrast to the demanding, needy, almost desperate pace he set.

She held on, trying so desperately hard to keep her heart separate from her libido. All those swirling, conflicting emotions drowned in lust and release.

But Shane filled her completely, moved inside of her with an ease and a fit that spoke of years together instead of firsts.Meant togethersinstead ofjust for nows.

There was no keeping it separate. Not when he kissed her gently, or when the kiss went rough. Not as he slowed the pace down, or when she begged him to hurry.

There was only her heart swelling foolishly, unreasonably as his breath grew ragged with hers, as his heart beat hard against hers. Even when that climb to pleasure broke, pulsing through her like sparklers of ecstasy and wonder, her heart pulsed with it. Too big, too desperate.

She pressed her cheek to his shoulder, trying to keep a hold on the tears, the bolt of panic, and that all-encompassing need for someone to feel the same things she felt. To reciprocate even a fraction of what she wanted.

“Hold on,” he murmured into her ear, and then, in a swift movement, his strong arm slid behind her back, and he rolled them in a fluid movement so he was on his back, and she was splayed across his long, rangy body—him still buried deep within her.

She let out a breathless chuckle, trying to find purchase in this new position, with his body under hers. Something like athermercy, as if she had any control.

He grinned up at her, his hands sliding up her legs and then clamping on her hips. “Your turn to do some of the work.”

Her heart flipped over at the mischievous look in his eye, but, with his gaze on hers, that lopsided grin half lost in pleasure, she could push that horrible well of emotion down, and focus on him. On fun. On making him go crazy.

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