Wyoming Fierce. Diana Palmer

      He stretched and grimaced. “Sure. It’s cold.”

      “Thank you.”

      “Do you like the man to get on top, or do you like to get on top? I can go deeper that way,” he said as easily as if he was discussing the weather.

      She groaned.

      “Real deep, in fact,” he murmured, getting drowsy. “I remember this one woman, she was small and I was afraid I’d hurt her. But she got on top and pumped me like a shotgun, screaming the whole time. We went all night long.” He grinned. “She liked to try new positions. So one time…”

      “I don’t want to hear about your sexual acrobatics, Cane!” Her voice was high-pitched and desperate.

      He rolled his head against the headrest so that he could see her face. “Jealous?”

      “I am not jealous!”

      He smiled. But the smile faded. “You’d have to get on top,” he said coldly. “I don’t have two arms to prop on anymore. I don’t even know if I could do it now. I wanted to find out. I wanted to see if I could still be a man....”

      “Cane, there are men all over the world who have lost arms and legs and who can still have sex,” she pointed out, trying to restrain her embarrassment. “People find a way!”

      He drew in a long breath. “I won’t have the nerve to try again,” he said in a haunted tone. “She said I was a cripple.” His eyes closed. “A cripple. She wanted a whole man....”

      She pulled up at the front of the house and blew the horn. She almost jumped out when Tank came onto the front porch.

      CHAPTER TWO

      “DAMN IT, CANE,” TANK, aka Dalton, muttered under his breath as he helped Bodie get his brother out of the truck and up onto the porch. “Why do you do this to yourself?”

      “He does share,” Bodie replied. “He did it to the bar also.”

      Dalton groaned.

      “I paid the bar tab, and extra.” Cane sighed. He pulled away from his brother. “I want her to take me upstairs.” He pointed to Bodie.

      “No way. I have to go home. I’m studying for biology finals.”

      “Won’t go if you don’t go with me,” Cane said obstinately.

      Dalton grimaced. He looked at Bodie, pleadingly.

      “Oh, all right. But then I have to go home, and somebody will have to drive me.”

      “I’ll take you home,” Dalton promised. He smiled. “Thanks.”

      She shrugged. “You’re welcome.”

      She got under Cane’s good arm, shimmering all over at the feel of that powerful body so close to hers, and guided him up the steps.

      “You owe me, pal,” she muttered.

      His hand slid over her arm, his fingers accidentally brushing the rounded underside of her breast in the process, and dragging a helpless shock of pleasure that echoed from her throat.

      “Mmm-hmm,” he murmured.

      She got him into his room. He pushed the door closed behind them and let her guide him to the bed, but when he went down, he pulled her with him.

      “Now,” he breathed, his hand under her back. “I want to find out something....”

      She opened her mouth to ask what and his was suddenly teasing around it, nibbling at her upper lip, teasing the underside with his tongue. The mastery of the caress left her helpless. She just lay there, shocked, tempted…tingling all over with new sensations.

      He unsnapped the bra and, leaning on the stump of his left arm, proceeded to unbutton his shirt while his lips were playing with hers. Seconds later, he’d pushed up her shirt and bra and his bare, hair-matted, muscular chest was pressing down against skin that had never been touched.

      “Small,” he groaned, “but firm and soft and sweet.”

      His thumb and forefinger were teasing the nipple, making it hard. She shivered.

      “Yes.” He bent his head and his mouth suddenly opened, hot and moist, right on top of the nipple. He pulled at it tenderly, rasped it against his tongue and finally took all of her into his mouth and suckled her.

      She came up off the bed shuddering, trying to contain the hoarse, pulsing cry of pleasure that accompanied the action.

      His lean hand was behind her, pushing into her jeans as he shifted, so that he could bring her hips into intimate contact with him. She felt him swell, felt the size and power of him, in a contact she’d never shared with a man in her whole life. Repressed, raised religiously by a grandfather whose morals were still Victorian, she’d kept herself chaste. Now this man, this playboy, was trying to use her like one of his women, make her into his toy, to salve the ego that another woman had hurt.

      She was trying to remember all that while one long leg curled around her and his mouth grew more insistent. She was so engrossed in new sensations that she barely heard the knock on the door until it was repeated, loudly.

      “Cane! Bodie needs to go home!”

      Bodie sat bolt upright, gaping down at Cane, whose expression was a cross between shock and shame.

      “On my way!” she called, hoping her voice didn’t sound as unsettled as she felt. She fumbled her bra back in place, pulled her shirt down and stared at Cane in shock.

      His mouth was swollen from its long contact with her body. His breathing was fast. But the alcohol suddenly seemed to catch up with him. He stared at her, blinked, started to speak and fell back onto the bed, snoring.

      She got up and opened the door.

      Tank looked in past her and sighed. “Thank God,” he mused. “I was afraid he might try to get out of hand.” He looked her over, and apparently didn’t see anything to concern him. She was mussed, but that could have come from manhandling Cane into bed. Or so she guessed.

      “He’s a handful all right. I thought I’d never get him into the bed. He’s heavy!” she muttered, trying to bluff.

      “Yes, he is.” He shook his head. “I wish he’d stop picking up women in bars,” he added coldly. “At his age, he should be thinking about a family.”

      “Some men never settle down,” she replied, going ahead of him downstairs. “He seems to be one of those.”

      “You never know. We’re in your debt, again,” he emphasized, and smiled gently. “Isn’t there something we can do for you?”

      She smiled and nodded. “Yes. Drive me home, please. I still have to study.”

      “Come on. Yes, I remember finals. No fun.”

      “Yes, but I only have one more semester to go. If I pass everything, I get my degree.”

      “Then what?”

      “Then, on to my master’s.” She sighed. “With digs in between and a nice full-time job this next summer to help pay for it all.”

      “We could…”

      She held up a hand. “You’ve done so much for Granddaddy. You don’t need to do anything for me. I’m happy to help out, any way I can. You’re a nice family.”

      He smiled. “Thanks. Your granddad was one of the best wranglers we ever had. Shame he had to go and get old,” he added gently.

      “I feel the same way!”

      * * *

      HE DROVE HER HOME. She went inside, just in time to catch her grandfather in a conversation on the telephone.

      “But where would I