Should've Been a Cowboy by Vicki Lewis Thompson Page A

range and stuff?”
    “I ride.” He liked being able to say that. “Mostly I ride Dooz. Why?”
    “Just wondered. Last summer you were still a city boy. You even told me you weren’t the cowboy type, but you’re…different now.”
    He wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Maybe she preferred city boys to cowboys. “How am I different?”
    “Well, you dress differently, and your hair’s a little longer. Your face seems a little more chiseled, but maybe that’s because of your hair. Also, there’s something else, something harder to define, an attitude…”
    “Are you saying I have an attitude?”
    “Not in a bad way. It’s more like a quiet confidence.”
    He was flattered, but still he had to laugh. “I just admitted a while ago that I have all kinds of doubts about this event tomorrow. That doesn’t seem like quiet confidence to me.”
    “This isn’t about your job, it’s about…your…” She took a deep breath. “It’s about your sex appeal, okay? I have no business talking about it, because it will only make me want to do things I shouldn’t do.” She moved away from the stall door. “Where’s that sink?” She started toward the end of the barn. “We need to get cleaned up and go back to the house. Dinner is probably ready, and I—”
    He spun her around and pulled her into his arms, mud and all. “Let’s do those things.” Then he kissed her, knowing that she would kiss him back, knowing that this time he would take that kiss where he wanted it to go, and she would let him.
    Her mouth tasted of rain and desire, and he knew the rest of her would, too. Heart pounding with anticipation, he began to strip her down, peeling her T-shirt over her head, unhooking her soaked bra, unbuttoning her jeans. He encouraged her to help him in a voice hoarse with need.
    She did, nudging off her shoes, kicking away her wet jeans, shimmying out of her panties. He warmed her chilled skin with his mouth and his hands—stroking, licking, kissing every fondly remembered inch of her. She moaned and quivered in his grasp.
    Her moan of delight was the music he’d yearned to hear for ten long months. One night was all they’d had together, and yet his feelings for her were so damn strong. She seemed to be as caught up in the whirlwind as he was. When he closed his mouth over her taut nipple, she arched into him and held the back of his head, tunneling her fingers through his wet hair as he sucked.
    The tempo of the rain increased, urging him on. As her body warmed, he moved lower. Finally he sank to his knees and cupped her satiny bottom in both hands. Ah, the scent of heaven—Tyler, fully aroused, wanting him as much as he wanted her. He couldn’t imagine anything better than that.
    His tongue remembered her exotic taste and knew the way to her sweet spot. There, waiting for him, needing him. He touched the tip of his tongue to her clit. She gasped and clutched his head for balance. But she did not pull back, did not tell him no. She was willing to be vulnerable and let him love her, at least for this moment in time.
    Filled with gratitude, he took her, claiming her with an open mouth and a questing tongue. She was slick with passion, and he savored the richness of her desire. Her soft cries of delight spilled over him as he stroked rhythmically with his tongue in time to the steady beat of the rain overhead. He would give her this, even if they could share nothing else.
    She began to tremble, and he used more pressure. With a groan that spoke of intense pleasure, she came, bathing his tongue in her juices. He drank joyfully, holding her, supporting her so she wouldn’t fall.
    At last her body grew quiet and she drew in a shaky breath. “Oh, Alex.” She said his name on a sigh of happiness.
    He couldn’t ask for a better response than that. Slowly he stood, sliding his hands up her body as he rose to his feet. His legs were rubbery from the rush of adrenaline, and his cock was absolutely