Page 48 of Breaking the Cowboy's Rules

“You aren’t going to give me one clue where to start?” She seemed a little nervous now—not what he was going for. He’d loved watching her on Midnight. She’d owned her space. Her body had moved fluidly with the horse, and her attitude had radiated confidence.

“Searcher’s choice,” he said softly, closing the space between them, hoping to ease her nerves.

She rested both palms on his chest, and then slid them up to loop over his neck.

“If you hadn’t been inventing the Rodeo Bride Game, would you have crossed the floor to meet me at the door to the saloon?”

“Definitely.”

“No doubt?”

“None.”

Her unusual green eyes, so piercing, searched his.

“You must know you are an uncommonly beautiful woman, Nico.”

Her sexy, voluptuous lips pouted. “I intimidate most men,” she said.

He laughed and slid out the elastic holding the end of her thick braid. “I’m a bull and bronc rider, babe. Not much intimidates me.”

“Really?” One of her high, perfectly arched brows lifted even more. Sexy as hell.

He finger-combed her hair, staring at the fiery waves, now freed and tumbling over her shoulders. The color likely wasn’t natural, but he didn’t care. “I thrive on challenge. It’s like a red flag to a bull.” He held a tress of her hair to his lips, breathing in the exotic floral scent. She smelled and looked expensive. “Kinda like your hair. How could I resist?”

“I’m happy you didn’t.” She looked down at her toes and then back up at him, drawing in a deep breath that moved her breasts. He’d felt the creamy mounds, but he hadn’t yet had the chance to fully see them or taste them. His mouth watered just imagining the silky palmful, nipples peaking under the touch of his fingers and mouth.

“Because I’ve been very career-driven until recently, I didn’t really try to attract men.” She seemed to be choosing her words with care, and he had the feeling she was feeding him clues one at a time, scattered in their casual and more pointed conversations. He tried to drag his mind off of thinking about what she would look like naked on the blanket he’d brought, or the expression on her face when he’d spread her legs and settle his mouth on her nearly bare, glistening mound. He’d felt her. Now he wanted to taste her.

“Would you have approached me?” he asked.

“You look like a man who likes to do his own chasing.”

“I do,” he admitted. “I’ll admit the moment I saw you, I wanted to get to know you, but often women don’t let me chase. I—” He hesitated. Now he was the one carefully choosing his words. His cousins and other rodeo riders on the tour thought he was proud of what he was going to confess, but he wasn’t, especially not with Nico. Yet he wanted to be as honest as he could with her. “I have a certain level of fame on the tour, and a certain reputation.”

She laughed, and the sound went straight to his chest, warmed it, kicked up his heart rate. His hands slid up to her shoulders.

“I love your laugh and your smile,” he murmured. “You were so guarded when I first met you.”

Shadows chased across her expression, and he wanted to be that white knight she’d mentioned, save her from whatever haunted her or dogged her. Archaic impulse likely. Nico radiated strength and independence. She could handle her own life. But still…he wanted to be that man for her.

“Bodhi, you are a jaw-dropping, beautiful and beautifully made man. Your walk has that I’m-thinking-about-sex swagger. I’m sure women are driving hundreds of miles to line up for your autograph and are determined to pop off that belt buckle and get into those jeans for their own personal ride.”

“Damn.” He felt like a total skank. “A compliment and a slam.”

“Not a slam. I haven’t exactly played hard to get. I saw you in the saloon, and I felt like one of those swoony heroines in a western historical romance.” Her expression was wry. “That’s never happened to me before. A man’s looks don’t—” she waved her hand “—undo me like that.”

“Undo. That sounds very promising.”

“It could be in the right circumstances,” she murmured.

He saw the pulse flutter in her neck, and his hands slid up to cup it. He loved how she was so tall, but delicately made. She was slim and refined, aristocratic, regal.

“More details about those circumstances, please,” he asked rather absently. His lips hesitated a whisper from hers. “I love that I don’t have to bend down to kiss you.” He feathered his lips along her jawline; she shivered, and her breath fractured.

“You are so sensuous,” he murmured approvingly. “So…I don’t even know a word worthy of you.”

“Your vocabulary is holding out just fine,” she whispered. Her hands gripped his belt as if he’d bolt. She didn’t try to touch or kiss him, just let him have his way.

---