The Maisey Yates Collection : Cowboy Heroes. Maisey Yates

was something else entirely. This was a language all its own. Words that didn’t exist in English. Words that she knew Chase would never be able to say.

      And her body knew that. Understood it. Responded. As surely as it would have if he had spoken.

      She was drowning. In this, in him. She hadn’t expected emotion to be this...fierce. She hadn’t really expected emotion at all. She hadn’t understood. She really had not understood.

      But then she didn’t have the time to think about it. Or the brainpower. He tugged on her hair, drawing her head to the side before he pressed his lips to her tender neck, his teeth scraping along the sensitive skin before he closed his lips around her and sucked hard.

      “You want it hard?” he asked, his voice rough. “Then we’re going to do it my way.”

      He grabbed hold of her hips, turning her so that she was facing the truck. “Scoot just a little bit.” He guided her down to where the cab of the truck ended and the bed began. “Grab on.” She curved her fingers around the cold metal, a shiver running down her spine. “You ever do it like this?” he asked.

      She laughed, more because she was nervous than because she thought the question was funny. “Chase, before you I had never even given a guy a blow job. Do you think I’ve ever done this before?”

      “Good,” he said, his tone hard, very definitely him. “I like that. I’m a sick bastard. I like the fact that no other man has ever done this to you before. I should feel guilty.” He reached around and undid the top button on her top. “But I’m just enjoying corrupting you.”

      He undid another button, then another. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath the top. Because, frankly, when you were as underendowed as she was, there really wasn’t any point. Also, it made things a little bit more easy access. Though that wasn’t something she had thought about until just now. Until Chase undid the last button and left her completely bare to the cool night air.

      “I’m kind of enjoying being corrupted.”

      “I didn’t tell you you could talk.”

      She shut her mouth, surprised at the commanding tone he was taking. Not entirely displeased about it. He cupped her breasts, squeezing them gently before moving his hands down her stomach, bringing them around her hips. Then he tugged her skirt down, leaving her in nothing but her boots and her underwear.

      “We’ll leave the boots on. I wouldn’t want you to step on anything sharp.”

      She didn’t say anything. She bit her lip, eagerly anticipating what he might do next. He slipped his hand down between her thighs, his fingertips edging beneath her panties. He stroked his fingers through her folds, a harsh growl escaping his lips. “You’re wet for me,” he said—not a question.

      She nodded, closing her eyes, trying to keep from hurtling over the edge as soon as his fingertips brushed over her. But it was a pretty difficult battle she was waging. Just the thought of being with Chase again was enough to take her to the precipice. His touch nearly pushed her over immediately.

      He gripped her tightly with his other hand, drawing her ass back up against his cock as he teased her between her legs with his clever fingers. He slipped one deep inside of her, continuing to toy with her with the edge of his thumb while he thrust in and out of her slowly. He added a second finger, then another. And she was shaking. Trembling with the effort of holding back her climax.

      But she didn’t want it to end like this. Didn’t want it to end so quickly. Mostly, she just didn’t want him to know that with one flick of his fingertip over her sensitized flesh he could make her come so hard she wouldn’t be able to see straight. Because at the end of the day it didn’t matter how much she wanted him; she still had her pride. She still rebelled against the idea of revealing herself quite so easily.

      She probably already had. Here she was, mostly naked, out underneath the stars. Here she was, telling him she wanted just the two of them, that she wanted it hard. Probably there were no secrets left. Not really. There were all sorts of unspoken truths filling in the silences between them, but she felt like they were easy enough to read, if he wanted to look at them.

      He might not. She didn’t really want to. Yet it didn’t make them go away.

      But she could ignore them. She could focus on this. On his touch. On the dark magic he was working on her body, the spell that was taking her over completely.

      He swept her hair to the side, pressing a hot kiss to the back of her neck. And then there was no holding back. Climax washed over her like a wave as she shuddered out her release.

      “Good girl,” he whispered, kissing her again before moving away for a moment. He pushed her panties down her legs, helping her step out of them, then he kissed her thigh before straightening.

      She heard him moving behind her. But she didn’t change her position. She stood there, gripping the back of the truck. Dimly, she was aware the radio was still on. That they had a sound track to this illicit encounter in the woods. It added to the surreal, out-of-body quality.

      But then he was back with her, touching her, kissing her, and it didn’t feel so surreal anymore. It was too raw. Too real. His voice, his scent, his touch. He was there. There was no denying it. This wasn’t fantasy. Fantasy was gauzy, distant. This was sharp, so sharp she was afraid it would cut right into her. Dangerous. She wanted it. All of it. And she was afraid that in the end there would be nothing of her left. At least nothing that she recognized. That his friendship wouldn’t be something that she recognized. But they’d gone too far to turn back, and she didn’t even want to anymore. She wanted to see what was on the other side of this. Needed to see what was on the other side.

      He reached up, bracing his hand on the back of her neck, holding her hip with the other as he positioned himself at the entrance to her body. He pressed the blunt head of his erection against her, sliding in easily, thrusting hard up inside her. She gasped as he went deeper than he had before. This was almost overwhelming. But she needed it. Embraced it.

      His hold was possessive, all-encompassing. She felt like she was being consumed by him completely. By her desire for him. Warmth bloomed from where he held her, bled down beneath the surface of her skin, hemorrhaged in her chest.

      “I fantasized about this,” he said, the words seeming to scrape along his throat. Rough, raw. “Holding you like this. Holding on to your hips as I did this to you.”

      She couldn’t respond. She couldn’t say anything. His words had grabbed ahold of her, squeezing her throat tight, making it impossible for her to speak. He had fantasized about her. About this.

      This position should feel less personal. More distant. But it didn’t. That made it... It made it exactly what she had asked for. This was for her. And this was him. What he wanted, not just the next item on a list of things she needed to learn. Not just a set routine that he had with women he slept with.

      He slid his hand down along the line of her spine, pressing firmly, the impression of his possession lingering on her skin. Then he held both of her hips tight, his blunt fingertips digging into her skin. He thrust harder into her, his skin slapping against hers, the sound echoing in the darkness. She gripped the truck hard, lowering her head, a moan escaping her lips.

      “You wanted hard, baby,” he ground out. “I’ll give it to you hard.”

      “Yes,” she whispered.

      “Who are you saying yes to?” There was an edge to his words, a desperation she hadn’t imagined he would feel, not with her. Not over this.

      “Chase,” she said, closing her eyes tight. “Yes, Chase. Please. I need this. I need you.”

      She needed all of him. And she suddenly realized why those thoughts about having someone to spend her nights with had seemed wrong. Because at the end of the day when she thought of sharing evenings with someone, when she thought of curling up under a blanket with someone, of watching Oklahoma! with someone for the hundredth time, it was Chase. It was always Chase. And that meant no other