Devils on Horseback: Nate by Beth Williamson Page A

of dark hair on his chest. Scars, too many to count, marred his skin.
    After he removed his jacket and shirt, she swallowed hard.
    “Now the pants and boots too.” Her voice had become so husky, she almost didn’t recognize it.
    “What is the purpose of this?”
    “I want to see you naked.” It was the truth, at least part of it.
    Apparently she’d shocked him though because his mouth dropped open and that’s when she noticed the bulge. His trousers seemed to be much tighter than they had been earlier. In fact, he looked about ready to pop one of his own buttons.
    “Let me see you.” She stood and gestured at his remaining clothes. “I need to see you.”
    His gaze never left hers as he slowly removed his boots, socks and finally his trousers. He must have abandoned wearing drawers or he didn’t have any left, because Nate Marchand was naked beneath the gray cloth. Amazingly, proudly naked with an erection that would rival a horse’s.
    He was blessed with a long, thick staff that jutted from a nest of dark curls, cupped by a pair of bollocks that made her fingers twitch to touch them. Her pussy throbbed with an awareness it had never before known. Elisa had images of her shedding her own clothes and lying down in the sweet grass with Nate.
    “Now what?” he ground out, his gaze slipping to her shirt.
    Elisa looked down, embarrassed to see that her very hard nipples were clearly visible through her homespun shirt. He already knew she wore no corset or female trappings, but now he knew that the sight of him naked made her body react.
    “You can get naked too,” he whispered.
    Of its own volition, Elisa’s hand put the knife back in the scabbard and reached out to touch him. Warm skin met sweaty palm and a jolt of pure passion raced through her. Her body vibrated with need, with want, with animal impulses that almost overtook her. Almost.
    Instead, she trailed her hand down his stomach, touching each scar as she went, until she grasped his cock. It was as hard as a tree branch, and as hot as fire, her hand barely encircled its girth. He hissed in a breath and Elisa swam in the depths of heat she saw in his eyes.
    “God has blessed you, Nathaniel Marchand. If we weren’t enemies, I’d lie with you.”
    “I’m not your enemy.”
    “That’s a load of shit, but I’ll let it pass.”
    “So lie with me. I want you, sweet, beautiful Elisa.” His voice, that honey-sweet voice, coated her, tempted her, called to her to do as he bade.
    “I—I can’t.”
    “Let me pleasure you. You can keep the gun if you’d like, but please”—he closed his eyes and sucked in a breath through his nose—“let me taste you.”
    Let me taste you .
    Heaven help her. She’d never had a man say that to her before, or even had a man want to get in her britches before. Tragic thing was, she didn’t know if he was lying or not.
    “Why would you call me beautiful?”
    “You are. Those eyes are as blue as the sky in December. Your skin is sweet as cream, and your breasts…ah, God, I’d give up a week of my life for one taste.”
    Nate knew how to seduce, that was for certain.
    “How do I know you’re not funning with me?”
    He choked out a laugh and pressed her hand to his throbbing hardness. “Does this feel like I’m funning?”
    No, it surely didn’t. Elisa swayed for a moment, then threw her arms around his neck and pressed her body to his. The man was like an oven, heat radiated through him, bringing her to a boil. Her lips locked with his and she dove into a whirlpool of sensation.
    Elisa let instinct guide her as mouths dipped and played. He cupped her ass and pulled her closer, nestling his staff against her pussy. Before she knew it, the bark of a tree was at her back and both her shirt and trousers were unbuttoned.
    As his mouth continued to pleasure her, his fingers dipped into her honey and pleasure ricocheted through her.
    “You’re so wet, sweet Elisa,” he whispered against her lips. “So