Page 66 of A Baby for the Texas Cowboy
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, scoring him and increasing the sexual stimulation. The orgasm hit fast and hard and seemed to stretch out wave after wave, drowning him in pleasure.
Tinsley collapsed on him. He could feel her sweat-slicked body meld against his. Her scent was all over him, the smell of sex drugging in the air, and he didn’t want to move or shower ever again. He could still feel her sex spasm around him in blissful little after-shocks.
His hands stroked her back and gentled through her tangled hair.
“You okay, baby? I wasn’t too rough?”
“I’d say you were perfect,” she said, still plastered against him, “but you are the last man who needs his ego stroked.”
“Don’t need my ego stroked.” He kissed the top of her head. “I prefer something else stroked.”
Still holding her, he pulled off the condom, tied it off and tossed it in the trash.
She sighed and snuggled closer. Suddenly, she stiffened. “I forgot you’re hurt. Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m good, better than good, but it is my turn.”
“Your turn?”
Anders flipped over so that he was on top. “My turn to be bossy.”
*
Tinsley felt deliciouslyrelaxed and liquid. She had no idea of the time. He’d probably have to wake up soon and head out to the ranch, and her day would be busy. Despite not opening the tasting room until noon, she still had a lot to do—interviewing three applicants, trying out a couple of new recipes for the tasting room menu, meeting with a few distributers, and she was still drafting marketing materials. A local artist had contacted her about creating a mural for the tasting room, which had excited both her and Catalina.
But right now, lying next to Anders, his body curved around hers so protectively, she felt happy and at peace in a way she hadn’t felt before.
This is what it could be like if you let it.
Could it? He’d be gone so much.
You like your independence; you’d have a lot of it.
But what if he cheats?
She could still feel the shock, dismay, disbelief, and deep, deep hurt when she’d discovered John and two women she’d considered mutual friends in what would soon be her and John’s bedroom completely getting down to business during a party—rawer and kinkier than anything he’d tried with her. She’d thought something was wrong with her—that she wasn’t adventurous enough in bed. But when she’d seen him blissed out with another women giving him head in his office, she’d known the problem was him and that she wasn’t going to live that life.
But her lack of trust was on her. Anders played no role in how she’d discovered John had been a serial and unapologetic cheater. He’d even been amused by her shock and tears and pathetic suggestion they see a counselor. And then he’d told her the role he’d expected her to play in their marriage—background support, hostess and mother. There’d been no idea of a partnership or love or of her having anything for herself.
She’d been confused and hurt. She’d gone to his office after work one night hoping to talk to him on neutral ground, but once again, she’d walked in on him with another woman. That had ripped off the blinders for good. She’d thrown his ring at him and said they were over. The ring had hit him in the head and when she’d run, he’d caught her by her neck, spinning her around and briefly cutting off her air. His smile had chilled her to her bones.
He’d told her to grow up, and Tinsley had run home to her mother, shattered and frightened, but her mother had been angry with her for interrupting John at work.
“You’ve gone all tense again,” Anders murmured, stroking his hand down her spine. He followed with kisses. She sighed in pleasure and pushed memories of John away. Why did she still give him so much power? He’d moved on from her and had been publicly dating another daughter of a rich and powerful man within a couple of months of Tinsley supposedly breaking his heart.
“Tinsley, tell me, why do you not want me to help out financially?” Anders asked, his palm flat and warm on her abdomen.
She didn’t want to talk, and she didn’t want to think, but she needed to be fair. Anders was working his way so hard toward her, and she needed to meet him, if not in the middle, at least somewhere.
She’d never thought of herself as lazy or fearful or selfish or mean, and she didn’t want to start.
“I just like knowing I can take care of myself,” she said. “I don’t want to need anyone ever again.”
“Again?” Anders leaned up on his elbow so that he could look at her expression. With his thumb, he traced first one curved eyebrow and then the other.
She’d probably said too much.
“I was engaged once—a long time ago. He was very controlling. I didn’t see it at first,” she said. Anders’ expression was open, his gaze searching as the first peek of dawn’s gray light filtered in through the raised blinds of her bedroom.
