Smoke. Fire. Cowboy (Cowboys of Nirvana Book 3) by Rhonda Lee Carver

handle it?”
    She was mute for the longest time, long enough that he thought she’d pull away, but then she saucily flipped her hair over one shoulder and turned her chin in a determined tilt. “I can handle it.”
    His cock twitched. “I bet you can.” He stood, gazes still locked, the color of her skin turning brighter as he undid the buckle. The metal loosened and clanked loudly. Slowly and deliberately, he pulled the leather strap out from the loops, his cock growing harder. This would probably be the closest he’d ever get to undressing in Sofie’s presence. He placed the belt on the table and it slipped into her lap. She gripped the worn leather in her hands, her knuckles turning white, yet she kept her curious gaze on him. Her lovely mouth slightly parted and the tip of her tongue slid across the seam. My God, she’s beautiful.   He swallowed against the constriction in his throat, willing his body to stay in control. He hadn’t been this close to coming in his jeans since high school.
    His held his fingers on the zipper, hesitating. She wasn’t changing her mind and there was no way in hell he’d back down.
    The zipper was down, his breathing turned heavy as he tucked his thumbs into the waistband. Her chest rose and fell with each breath. Did she feel it too? The loss of oxygen. He slid the waist lower on his hips and turned. He wasn’t a bashful man, but her seeing his package wasn’t part of the deal. Did he hear a slight moan of disappointment from her? He dipped his jeans and boxers down over one butt cheek, showing off the tattoo he’d gotten when he was eighteen. “Seen enough?” he asked.
    “Yes.” The word came out in a croaky whisper.
    He fixed his clothing and turned back, smiling. “Answer your question?” She nodded, her cheeks flaming red and her lips moist. “You see, sweetheart,” he sat down, “rumors are a lot like snowballs. Keep rolling them along and they get bigger and bigger.”
    “No slashes on his arm. Why a bull though? On your bottom of all places.” She rolled her fingers around the stem of the glass, sliding them up and down. She was making him crazy.
    “I’ll give you a freebie. It was a challenge with my buddies. Whoever lost the challenge had to get a tattoo on their bottom. I was the lucky one.”
    She leaned in, placing her palms on the table. “I would have backed out.”
    “No, you wouldn’t. You believe in honor too. I’ve never backed down from a challenge or a promise.”
    “Here we go.” She took another card and groaned.
    “Another two.” He clicked his tongue. “And look, I have a six. I better make this a good question.” He sat back, roving his gaze from her bright eyes over her pert nose to the kissable shape of her pretty mouth. “When was the last time you were kissed?”
    Her bottom lip quivered and he felt a tingle shoot all the way down his shaft and settle at the tip.
    “Does every question have to be about physical intimacy?” she raged.
    “I showed you the bull, so answer, sweetheart,” he urged. She was right, though, everything he wanted to know seemed to involve when she’d been touched last. Why did it bother him to think of a man touching her? Kissing those lush lips? He squeezed the bridge of his nose, wishing he could ease the strain in his body.
    She stood up and the chair scraped the floor. “I’m done playing.”
    He chuckled. “That easily?”
    “The last time I had sex or was kissed really isn’t any of your business. These are not questions to help you get to know me,” she sputtered.
    “You’re free to your opinion, but I beg to differ. I’ve often thought if you were kissed, or made love to, in the right way, you’d come off that high horse you’ve been riding since the second you walked into Nirvana.” There went his filter.
    All the lovely possibilities vanished from her gaze. “For your information, I’ve been kissed recently.” As if she realized she’d slipped up, she clamped her mouth