Page 45 of Breaking the Cowboy's Rules

“Nico, want more?”

“Yes, yes, please.”

“Then I need to hear you. I have to know, want to know, what you enjoy. How will I know how to please you if you hide your pleasure from me?”

It was agony, the wanting, but a lifetime of the tyranny of caution, of hiding her thoughts and feelings even from herself was hard to overthrow. She’d relied on her control. It was her shield, her weapon.

She leaned back against his hard body and reached behind her so that she could touch his sculpted thighs.

“You’re supposed to be touching yourself,” he reminded her, his voice holding a hint of amusement riding along with the dark passion. “Play with your breasts. I’m very visual.”

Nico strangled a deep moan when his hand slid under her panties again. She kicked hard against the stirrups so that he had better access.

“You like this?” he asked, cupping her mound, and tapping on her clit that felt like sparks shooting down her thighs.

“Love,” she grit out. “More.”

She was unwinding in a way she never had. It was so different, being exposed like this, vulnerable, outside in a different environment with a man she barely knew and yet felt like she knew more about who he really was than men she’d gone to college and law school with.

Even though she religiously worked out, her thighs quivered with the strain of holding herself up a little off the saddle, and she ground her butt against his erection that felt like a spike of fire even through his jeans and hers. Why wasn’t he taking off their clothes right now?

He was doing something with his thumb against her clit that made her sob and buck against his hand in rhythm, and then one finger was inside her, stroking, and he hit a spot that nearly launched her off the horse.

“Yes,” she hissed.

He wrapped his arm around her hips, holding her still while he played with her clit and stroked inside of her now with two fingers. All of her attention focused on what was building up inside of her like a tsunami of white-hot fire. There was no controlling it. She wanted to pull back even as she wanted to hurtle toward whatever it was. Nothing, nothing had begun to prepare her for the encompassing intensity of the physical sensations.

And when it hit, Nico wasn’t really sure what had happened. It was like she’d been climbing up a hill on a roller coaster, a controlled climb, and then was shot out of a cannon, no longer on the track, hurtling through space and a bright light that hurt her eyes so she scrunched them shut, but she could still see dark red and purple splodges, and a wave of heat burned over her.

Nico had no control of her body or her mind, which had never yet failed her.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out of control or what she’d done. For a moment, she just felt sheer bliss. She and Bodhi were one. No nagging doubts, no anxiety about what she’d done or said or looked like. She didn’t worry that she was arched into a man, tank top dragged up exposing her breasts, legs spread wide and his hand down her pants and fingers inside of her.

Delicious tremors rippled through her. She didn’t want to come back to reality ever.

But, of course, that didn’t last.

Awareness crept in. Who she was. Where she was. What she’d let…no, encouraged a man to do to her. On his granddad’s ranch, and they hadn’t been all that far away from the barn, certainly not out in the middle of nowhere.

She tried to cling to thewowfeeling, but it evaporated, leaving her horribly self-aware.

“You are so sensitive and passionate.” Bodhi’s voice was a temptation in her ear, and she turned, fighting the urge to cling to him, to let him be in charge of what had just happened, to let him be the guide to the new sensual, passion-drenched her. She knew she’d been running away from her life, from herself, and this moment felt like a new stake in the ground. She was no longer Samara Nicoletta Reese Steel Wentworth. She was Nico Steel.

“I…um…” For a woman who’d created a rapid-trajectory career out of crafting intellectual and persuasive strings of words, she was surprisingly bereft of any now. “Did I embarrass you?”

Had she embarrassed herself?

A laugh huffed in her ear, which shot straight to her core.

“You are a sexy woman who can undo me with one arch of your eyebrow. Your body feels like silk in my arms, and you have curves I want to hug like a Ferrari on an Italian mountain road. You are hot as hell. How could that embarrass me?”

She could barely swallow with that description.

No man had talked to her like that ever.

No. It was business. Merging of some assets, protecting others.

“I am the luckiest, happiest cowboy in all of the western states.”

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