Page 2 of Cougar Chronicles

The cowboy’s full lips curved into a grin, and his fingers tensed on her forearm. “Are you asking for company?”

Holly’s heart fluttered, but she steadied herself despite the two martinis. She wasn’t drunk. It took more than two drinks to get her tipsy. All signals from the man said go. She hadn’t had sex in a while. Damn, had it been two years now?

She was forty. Forty and alone, with no one to hold her and comfort her as she cried about what was to come.

She didn’t have to be alone tonight.

Tonight, she could escape, albeit temporarily, and make love to a hot younger man. If he was willing, which he seemed to be.

She pushed her empty martini glass toward the bartender and then covered his hand which still warmed her arm. His hands were as beautifully formed as the rest of him, with long thick fingers that would feel really good in lots of places. The soft hair on his knuckles tickled her.

Why not get straight to the point? She met his dark gaze. “If Iwereasking for company, would you be up for it?”

He downed the rest of his Scotch and smiled. “Can’t think of a better way to spend the evening, sugar.”

Holly gulped. She was really going to do this. “Do you have protection?”

“I was a boy scout.” He leaned toward her, and his warm breath caressed her cheek. “I’m always prepared.”

* * *

She wouldn’t tell him her name and didn’t want to know his.

She’d touched two slender fingers to his lips when he’d tried to introduce himself. “You’re Cowboy to me tonight,” she’d said. “And I’m Sugar.”

Okay, he’d play along, though he’d insisted on paying for the room. She’d stayed far from the front counter as he reserved the best suite the Livingston had available. She probably didn’t want to get curious and peek at the name on his credit card.

Fine. For now. He had every intention of knowing this beauty’s name and everything else about her before the night was over. Specifically, he wanted to know what or who put that forlorn look in her beautiful eyes.

His hand to her back, he escorted her into the empty elevator. The doors closed.

And she attacked.

His body slammed against the wall of the elevator, and she cupped either side of his face with her smooth hands. She pulled him toward her luscious red lips.

“Kiss me, cowboy.”

She crushed her mouth to his. Though his intent was to play with her a little, hold her off, make her beg, he couldn’t resist the temptation of her honeyed mouth. When her tongue touched his, he sucked it between his lips. It was soft. So soft and wet, and she tasted like the martinis she’d drunk. Gin, a touch of vermouth, and some spicy lime. Jack wasn’t sure where the lime had come from, but it was the perfect compliment.

Her lush body molded to his, and her bountiful breasts mashed against his chest. She was tall, his sugar. Tall enough that he, at six-three, didn’t need to strain his neck to kiss her. The silky fabric that covered her plump tits rubbed against him and ignited his loins.

Hell, his loins had been on fire since he’d first seen her. So beautiful and so sad. He’d wanted to help her, hold her, and take away whatever was hurting her.

If he could do that by fucking her, so be it. Yep, that was him. Jack Sherwood. Altruist.

Fuck.

She grabbed his ass, and any further thoughts of altruism fled his mind.

This was not altruism. This was lust, pure and simple. He wanted her, and clearly the feeling was mutual.

The elevator dinged and opened, and he broke the kiss with a loud smack. Her lips, scarlet and swollen, curved slightly into a shy smile. She met his gaze but then looked away quickly.

“Don’t get bashful with me now, sugar,” Jack said. “You’re one hell of a great kisser.”

“Who’s bashful?” She met his eyes and her own green orbs smoldered.

He smiled. “My mistake.” He pulled her from the elevator, down the hallway to room 1145, and trapped her against the door as he fumbled for the keycard in his pocket. Again, her body felt perfect against his, and his arousal ached in his jeans. He pushed it into her soft belly and arched his eyebrow at her gasp.

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