Page 6 of My Cowboy Date
“I’ll say.” Wilder strips off his shirt and puts it on the edge of the porch. The sun’s rays beat down on his shoulders and he catches me staring. Our eyes lock. “What are you thinking?”
“Good girls don’t jump their boss,” I admit. “They do not drag them down to the dirt for a nookie picnic.”
“A noo—” He laughs and when he sobers, he says, “Then be a bad girl. Beverybad with me and let’s have that picnic.”
He walks closer and raises his hand over me, shading my eyes from the sun’s glare.
His muscled torso is so close. He’s so well-built. And he’s right. There are some things a vibrator can’t do. Like pick you up and slide you onto a thick cock.
I don’t mean to sway, but I’m pulled toward him like I’m on a string.
He catches hold of my arms. “Aspen…”
I don’t know what I was thinking. I snap to my senses. “We should let Albert know we’re finished.” I hurry onto the porch with Wilder behind me.
As I reach to knock, the older man swings open the screen door and points at us. “You ain’t coming in here tracking dirt everywhere. Go use the hose to rinse yourselves off, then we’ll talk.”
The hose is on the opposite side of the cabin where trees give off plenty of shade.
I kick off my shoes and Wilder takes off his boots.
“That damn pipe ditch just had to be dug in the sun,” Wilder says, turning on the water. We both reach for the nozzle and apply pressure to the handle at the same time.
Water shoots into the air and cascades over us, cooling my skin but doing nothing for the heat I’m feeling in other places.
Wilder’s attention flicks to my lips and I whisper his name as drops of water hit my cheeks and fall across my lips.
My clothes are soaking up the water and in the chill from the shade, my nipples harden.
“I’m not made of stone,” Wilder says, staring at my nipples.
“No one asked you to be.” I skim my hands across my breasts.
His eyes flare and he shuts off the water to cup one side of my face as he draws me to him. Without hesitation, he lowers his head and takes my lips under his.
Thrusting his leg between mine, he walks me backward until I’m against the side of the cabin and then he kisses me, drinking me in and I’m flowing into him. Urging him to taste more, to taste deeper, to meld his body against mine.
A wild animal growls way too close to us and to my shock, I realize that’s me. I made that sound. I’m losing control. Headed for trouble.
I find the strength to turn my head and his lips graze along my jawline, then the side of my neck before he slowly lifts his head.
I raise my hand, wanting to touch his face. Wanting to trace his lips. Wanting to never feel the pain of heartbreak again. That thought has me lowering my hand and I clench it into a fist.
Wilder leans over to turn the water on again and silently rinses the leftover traces of mud from his feet, then from mine. “Hold your arms out,” he says quietly, then he trickles water over them, washing away the dirt.
“I…” I lapse into silence. I what? I loved that kiss? I did, but don’t know what to say now.
He gives me a second and when I don’t continue, his easy grin is back. “I’ve got a towel in the truck. I was planning to go for a swim the other day, but it didn’t work out. I’ll get it for you.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Thanks. I’ll be here just poking out.”
He laughs and then jogs off.
I reach deep within myself to start my how-to-avoid-a-heartbreak lecture but with swollen lips and an aching need, I don’t want to listen. I want that man. I want to finish what we started.
What’s wrong with thathorny me wants to know.
Everythingwise me says.
