LOVE OF A RODEO MAN (MODERN DAY COWBOYS) by Bobby Hutchinson Page A
Authors: Bobby Hutchinson
Ads: Link
same, she wasn’t prepared for the sensations exploding within her.
His lip s were testing, tasting her essence, and her secret places reacted hot and urgently. Her lips parted, and his tongue touched at each corner of her mouth. His tongue questioned. Hers answered.
The tension of the afternoon, with its dramatic birth and successful conclusion, culminated now in heightened emotional awareness for each of them.
For Mitch, holding this woman and kissing her was like some long-forgotten dream. There was a sense of rightness about it, of heady, delicious exploration. But there was also intense and immediate need, the healthy and overwhelming hunger of a man for his woman, compounded by the fiery response her lips and mouth and body offered after those first tentative moments.
His hands slid down and around her hips, drawing her closer, and Sara felt her own arms encircle him, felt the iron hard muscles tense and quiver as her widespread fingers traced slowly down the long line of his back from broad shoulders to narrow waist. The feel and smell of him enveloped her senses as intensely as his mouth explored and ravaged and incited her emotions.
His embrace was both knowing and yet somehow shy, endearing and yet incendiary, a mixture that sent need snaking hotly through Sarah’s abdomen.
She moved her head restlessly, wanting the kiss to deepen even more, and neither noticed when his hat fell off and tumbled to the straw at their feet. Her hips were touching his, and she moved against him sinuously, urgently, intima tely, unable to control the impulse. Their breath came in short gasps, and each could feel the other’s heartbeat.
His lips left her mouth, nibbled their way down and over her chin, and the very t ip of his tongue traced a burning trail down her throat to where the pulse thundered.
The growling of a large truck’s engine as it made its way slowly down the rutted driveway above the house gradually intruded on the small, heated space they’d created.
Sara was the first to move, taking a shaky step backward and stumbled over the forgotten bucket on the floor beside them.
Mitch steadied her, arms firm on her shoulders, and swore under his breath.
“It’s Bill. His timing’s gone all to hell since he played shortstop years ago,” he said as lightly as he could manage, instinctively offering her time and space to deal with what had flamed between them. But his eyes were dark and heavy with unconcealed passion when they met hers.
Her skin was flushed, and she still panted as if she’d been running hard. “I don’t, I mean usually... this doesn’t happen this way for me...I mean, the first time I...” she stammered, and felt her face flame at the gauche statement.
But he nodded slowly, his gaze holding hers. “For me either, Sara,” he breathed fervently, and she instinctively believed him.
“For me either,” he repeated.
For a long, timeless moment, they stared at each other. Then a slow, wicked twinkle grew in the green depths of Mitch’s eyes, and he lowered his tone to a lecherous growl. “Hell, woman, if that’s a first effort, think what we can accomplish with some practice. Why, we can probably get real good at this,” he drawled, picking up his Stetson and brushing it off, fitting it back on his dark head in one deft movement and giving her a lurid wink from under the brim.
She had to smile at his nonsense, and t he smile broadened as she took in the streaks of dirt smearing his cheeks and chin.
“You’d better take that hat off again and give your face a wash,” Sara suggested.
“I will if you will,” he said with a grin. “You’ve got dust from me all over your neck.”
A blush she couldn’t control turned her face rosy pink as she remembered in vivi d detail just how that had happened, and Mitch had to stop himself from gathering her close all over again.
They were both acceptably clean when they sat down in the kitchen of the farmhouse a little later with
His lip s were testing, tasting her essence, and her secret places reacted hot and urgently. Her lips parted, and his tongue touched at each corner of her mouth. His tongue questioned. Hers answered.
The tension of the afternoon, with its dramatic birth and successful conclusion, culminated now in heightened emotional awareness for each of them.
For Mitch, holding this woman and kissing her was like some long-forgotten dream. There was a sense of rightness about it, of heady, delicious exploration. But there was also intense and immediate need, the healthy and overwhelming hunger of a man for his woman, compounded by the fiery response her lips and mouth and body offered after those first tentative moments.
His hands slid down and around her hips, drawing her closer, and Sara felt her own arms encircle him, felt the iron hard muscles tense and quiver as her widespread fingers traced slowly down the long line of his back from broad shoulders to narrow waist. The feel and smell of him enveloped her senses as intensely as his mouth explored and ravaged and incited her emotions.
His embrace was both knowing and yet somehow shy, endearing and yet incendiary, a mixture that sent need snaking hotly through Sarah’s abdomen.
She moved her head restlessly, wanting the kiss to deepen even more, and neither noticed when his hat fell off and tumbled to the straw at their feet. Her hips were touching his, and she moved against him sinuously, urgently, intima tely, unable to control the impulse. Their breath came in short gasps, and each could feel the other’s heartbeat.
His lips left her mouth, nibbled their way down and over her chin, and the very t ip of his tongue traced a burning trail down her throat to where the pulse thundered.
The growling of a large truck’s engine as it made its way slowly down the rutted driveway above the house gradually intruded on the small, heated space they’d created.
Sara was the first to move, taking a shaky step backward and stumbled over the forgotten bucket on the floor beside them.
Mitch steadied her, arms firm on her shoulders, and swore under his breath.
“It’s Bill. His timing’s gone all to hell since he played shortstop years ago,” he said as lightly as he could manage, instinctively offering her time and space to deal with what had flamed between them. But his eyes were dark and heavy with unconcealed passion when they met hers.
Her skin was flushed, and she still panted as if she’d been running hard. “I don’t, I mean usually... this doesn’t happen this way for me...I mean, the first time I...” she stammered, and felt her face flame at the gauche statement.
But he nodded slowly, his gaze holding hers. “For me either, Sara,” he breathed fervently, and she instinctively believed him.
“For me either,” he repeated.
For a long, timeless moment, they stared at each other. Then a slow, wicked twinkle grew in the green depths of Mitch’s eyes, and he lowered his tone to a lecherous growl. “Hell, woman, if that’s a first effort, think what we can accomplish with some practice. Why, we can probably get real good at this,” he drawled, picking up his Stetson and brushing it off, fitting it back on his dark head in one deft movement and giving her a lurid wink from under the brim.
She had to smile at his nonsense, and t he smile broadened as she took in the streaks of dirt smearing his cheeks and chin.
“You’d better take that hat off again and give your face a wash,” Sara suggested.
“I will if you will,” he said with a grin. “You’ve got dust from me all over your neck.”
A blush she couldn’t control turned her face rosy pink as she remembered in vivi d detail just how that had happened, and Mitch had to stop himself from gathering her close all over again.
They were both acceptably clean when they sat down in the kitchen of the farmhouse a little later with
Similar Books
