Page 6 of Cougar Chronicles

“Wow,” was all he said.

“Double wow,” she agreed.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Up for an encore?”

She giggled.

When was the last time she had giggled?

“Are you?”

His laugh was husky. “In a few minutes. There is that jacuzzi to consider.” He turned onto his back and covered his forehead with his arm.

She’d never made love to a hot stud in a jacuzzi, had never made love in a jacuzzi, period. In fact, she’d never made love to a hot stud, come to think of it, at least not as hot as the cowboy next to her.

Boy, had it been a day. She didn’t want to think unpleasant thoughts. She wanted her escape to last a little longer.

She touched his firm lower lip with the pad of her thumb. “I’m up for the jacuzzi, cowboy.”

* * *

Darkness enveloped the room when Holly awoke. Her cowboy was behind her, holding her spoon-style. His large, warm hand cupped her breast. Her sore nipple hardened beneath his palm. A hard thigh was wedged between hers. The soft hair covering his flesh tickled her smooth skin. His breath, slow and steady, blew against her neck and disturbed a few stray hairs.

The night had been amazing—wonderful!—a hedonistic frolic and a total escape. She wouldn’t soon forget the encounter in the jacuzzi. How they’d kissed each other until their lips were red and swollen. How he’d sucked on her nipples until they were nearly raw, all the while fussing over how beautiful they were. How she’d ridden him, and the jetting had swished over them as they coupled again, and then again.

A night of wonderful memories to savor was exactly what she had needed.

But now? She sighed as she disentangled herself from cowboy as gently as she could. She didn’t want to wake him.

She walked to the window and opened the drapes. The sun peeked over the horizon. Soon dawn would brighten a new day.

She sighed again.

Time to face the music.

Three

Six months later

Late again.

Holly ran into the classroom, dragging her portfolio behind her. She’d stopped at the art store for more charcoal after work and she’d hit major traffic.

She laughed it off. This was art class at the community college, not a pressing appointment. It was okay to be late. Problem was, she didn’t want to be. She wanted to breathe in every bit of knowledge this class and this professor had to offer. She was done taking life for granted. She’d wanted to learn to draw for forty years, and now she was.

She’d always had a flair for sketching—or so others always said. In college she’d taken the well-traveled road and majored in economics and political science and then gone on to law school, which, frankly, had been the three most boring years of her life. She did the time, got the grades, landed the partnership-track job.

Five months ago, she’d thrown it all out with the garbage.

She hated practicing law. She liked to draw. Shelovedto draw. She was good at it. It made her happy. She smiled. What was better than doing what made her happy?

Of course, she had to pay the bills, so she’d hung out a shingle and opened up her own law practice. Writing wills and trusts wasn’t exactly a rocket science challenge, but it kept her in food and shelter until she could learn how to make her art pay.

Damn it all if she wasn’t happier than she’d ever been.

She hastily took an empty seat and spread out her paper and charcoal. Tonight was model night. Male, if she recalled correctly. Last week they’d sketched a gorgeous blond woman with a body so perfectly proportioned she resembled Barbie.

Well, her legs weren’t quite that long.

---