Cowboys Like Us. Vicki Thompson Lewis

but hadn’t realized she’d look this fine. Maybe country living made a woman’s skin glow like that. Or maybe—and this was an ego-boosting thought—she was flushed with desire for him.

      In any case, she was radiant, as if someone had buffed her body until it gleamed with rosy good health. He stood mesmerized, his glance traveling over the wonders he longed to touch, to taste, to lose himself in. No body piercings for this woman. No Brazilian wax, either. A neat triangle of light brown curls awaited him.

      She cleared her throat, which snapped him out of his daze long enough to get rid of his jeans and his knit boxers. He had to work both of them over an erection that felt bigger than the Hancock Building. He was gratified when she sucked in a breath. Nice to be noticed.

      She’d stood still while he looked, so he afforded her the same privilege. This was the first time—and maybe the last time—they would see each other without clothes. They should make it count.

      He wished he was in better physical shape, but his knee had kept him from the full workouts he was used to. Her breathing picked up as she studied him, though, and he kind of thought she liked what she saw. Her gaze lingered on the purple scar where he’d had knee surgery.

      Surgery hadn’t put him back in the game, but at least he could walk without hobbling. In fact, he could dance for short stretches, a fact he’d proven tonight. He’d told himself to be grateful for that much.

      “Looks painful,” she said.

      “It is, and I’m not talking about my knee.”

      Her mouth tilted in a smile. “Cute.”

      “I prefer the term impressive.”

      She laughed and flung back the covers, which included a colorful patchwork quilt. “Are you fishing for compliments, Carswell?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then let me just say that UPS would likely slap a surcharge on that package of yours.” She climbed into bed and stretched out, facing him. “Gonna deliver it?”

      “Yeah.” He was really starting to like her, and that could be a problem. He might want to remind himself, beginning now, that this was only temporary. “Special delivery, overnight male.”

      4

      CARO WAS PROUD OF HERSELF for keeping the tone light. She’d never had a one-night stand, and this was shaping up to be her first try at it. If so, she wanted to make sure the mood was carefree and playful, not intense and sordid.

      So far, so good. Logan was following her lead, and as he climbed into her bed, she told herself not to mentally record this moment and think it was significant, because it wasn’t. Yes, his body was incredible. He was the most muscular guy she’d ever seen naked, not counting marble statues or issues of Playgirl.

      He was so ripped that she felt a little intimidated, as if she were about to take a ride on a monster roller coaster and wasn’t sure if she’d chicken out before it began. Could she keep up with all that energy and power? She was willing to try.

      Her body was more than willing. From her first glimpse of his spectacular endowments, moisture had collected between her thighs and her womb had contracted. Natural instinct had taken over, demanding that she join with him in the most basic way.

      So she’d take this wild ride, but she’d better not get used to having a hard body in her bed. She’d look into his sexy eyes, which reminded her of dark chocolate, but wouldn’t set that shade of brown as her new standard. His mouth not only looked sensual, she knew from experience that it felt even better. Still, she couldn’t get attached to his kisses, either.

      What was about to happen between them was an unexpected gift, a moment stolen from each of their regularly scheduled lives.

      Then he looked into her eyes, and she was caught by surprise at the warmth and caring in his gaze. When he touched her, all her promises to stay objective shattered. He could have grabbed her. With all their banter, he would have been justified in rolling her onto her back and having his way with her.

      Instead, he skimmed the tips of his fingers over her cheek with such tenderness that her throat tightened.

      “I want you so much I can barely stand it,” he said. “But before this gets hot and heavy, and I can guarantee it will, I wanted to say … thank you.”

      She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Shouldn’t I be thanking you? I’m sure you can get girls by snapping your fingers. I’m the one who’s in a sexual wasteland.”

      He smiled. “I’ve been in a wasteland of my own making, bogged down in self-pity. This …” He paused to sweep his hand over the bed. “This feels as if you just tossed me a lifeline.”

      “I’d say ‘anytime,’ but we both know that’s not possible.”

      He cupped her face with one hand. “So let’s make the most of right now.” But his kiss was slow and easy, as if they had all the time in the world. Leisurely, he combed his fingers through her hair and nibbled his way from her mouth to the curve of her neck. “You smell like lemons.”

      “Homemade lemon juice hair spray.” She shivered as he ran his tongue along her collarbone.

      “Love it.” His virile body was inches from hers, yet his mouth and fingertips were the only contact points between them.

      Tension wound tight within her. She tamped it down, fighting for the kind of control he seemed to have. In an attempt to mirror his restraint, she slid her fingers across his lightly furred chest. She’d meant to keep her caress as soft as his, but oh, the muscles on this man!

      She flattened her palm against the most magnificent pecs she’d ever touched. Her breath caught as she absorbed the heat and power, and imagined his body poised over hers.

      The ache that had been building ever since he’d first kissed her threatened to overwhelm her good manners. She was fast approaching the point where she was liable to move her hand lower, latch on to the object of her desire and demand that he use it immediately. That would not be classy.

      “Logan?” She heard the desperate note in her voice and couldn’t do anything about it.

      “Uh-huh.”

      “Um, do you know where your condoms are?”

      “Yes.” He sounded amused.

      “I don’t mean to rush you, but …”

      He chuckled softly, his breath warm against her shoulder. “Caro, I didn’t want to rush you. I’m not a small guy, and I didn’t want to hurt you because you weren’t ready.”

      “I’m beyond ready, Logan. Rushing sounds like a wonderful idea.”

      He raised his head, his dark eyes sparkling with lust and laughter. “Yes, ma’am.”

      “Thank you.” She curled her hands into fists and squirmed with impatience as he rolled to the far side of the bed, snatched up his jeans and rummaged in the pocket. The sound of ripping foil was music to her ears.

      When he came back, he was ready for action. “No more foreplay, then?”

      She shook her head and held out her arms. “Main event, please.”

      “God, Caro.” He moved over her, his breathing ragged. “You are some kind of woman.” Bracing himself on one arm, he reached between her thighs. “But I still need to make sure you’re—”

      “Logan.” She squeezed her eyes shut and arched off the bed as his probing fingers nearly made her come. She’d never wanted a man so much that she was dizzy with anticipation.

      He groaned softly. “You weren’t kidding.”

      “No.” She opened her eyes and met his gaze as she cupped his firm bottom. “Now.”

      “With pleasure.”