Gentling the Cowboy (Texan Nights Series #1)(35)
Author: Ruth Cardello

“Your call, Tony. The offer stands, though. I’ve been married over fifty years. I know a thing or two about the workings of the female mind.” When Tony didn’t credit his offer with a response, Carl said, “I should have the stuff by tomorrow. Until then, don’t be afraid to get a bit more creative. There’s no shame in asking a woman what she wants.”

Tony hung up the phone and turned to Sarah. “He thinks I’ve bored you into seeking alternative recreation.”

Sarah ran a hand playfully down his arm. “Poor Tony, do you want me to call him back and reassure him that I’m completely satisfied?”

Tony caught her hand beneath his and held it. “No, but I have to warn you that I’ve never enjoyed playing games, Ping-Pong or any other type.”

The impish grin she gave him sent his heart racing in his chest. “That’s because you’ve never played them naked.”

He conceded that point. He’d always enjoyed poker, but today was the first time he hadn’t minded losing. The idea of watching Sarah’s lovely br**sts bounce as she leapt to make a shot or glimpsing her delightful ass bent over as she retrieved a stray ball was beyond tempting—creating a fantasy that rocked his control.

Familiarity normally lessened his desire. Sarah was different. The more he was with her, the more he wanted to be. He hoped to God six days would be enough to change that. For now, he had another fantasy to address. “The games won’t be here until tomorrow, but I’m pretty sure I have some rope around here somewhere.”

Instead of looking nervous as he’d expected, she said, “I’ve always wanted to tie a man to a bed and have my way with him.”

He shook his head. “I’d never let that happen.”

She raised herself up on her tiptoes and wiggled her eyebrows at him. “Is that a dare?”

He tried to look down at her sternly, but the evidence of his arousal sprung to life between them, making it difficult to argue that the idea had no appeal to him. “It’s a fact.”

Sarah leaned forward until her ni**les brushed his chest. She took his throbbing dick in one hand and caressed it while she pulled his head down to whisper in his ear. “I’ve always dreamed of being in control just once. I’d rub my body all over you and take things at a slow pace. Instead of enjoying your hands on me, I’d lick every inch of your body. I’d take you in my mouth and bring you to the brink and then, only then, I’d let you taste me. They say that a postponed orgasm is a stronger one. I’d test that theory. I’d bring you close again and again, taking my orgasms but delaying yours until you couldn’t take it anymore. You’d threaten me, beg me, want to drag me on top of you, but still I’d make you wait. Then, when we’re both in a place where neither of us could wait a second longer, I’d lower myself on your . . .” she paused over her word choice, and he smiled despite how excited she’d made him.

“Cock,” he suggested. “You’d lower yourself on my cock.”

Her hand tightened on him and she echoed the word in a whisper. “Cock.”

The mixture of innocence and siren drove him wild. He jerked and almost came in her hand, cursing that he could be so close so soon. “I’ll go get the rope,” he said in a rush, stumbling a bit as he stepped back from her. She’d done it again, bulldozed through what he considered a nonnegotiable line in the sand.

Some things were worth keeping an open mind about, though.

And he was sure there wasn’t a man alive who wouldn’t agree with him.

Chapter Thirteen

A few days later, Sarah catnapped beside Tony on the couch, snuggled beneath a light comforter. Time was passing too quickly—a blur of showering together between games they often didn’t finish because one of them lost patience and leaned in for a heated kiss that would lead them both astray.

Although Sarah had left her notebook in the car, she knew when she returned to it, her writing would be stronger. Plus, she wasn’t worried that she would forget the wonder of one kiss, one touch, or a single moment they’d spent together.

Not even the unexpected revelations.

Even days filled with passion and laughter can be enhanced by the use of a toothbrush and a dash of deodorant. I’ll leave that tidbit out of my romance. No one will want to hear about how fast the heroine’s leg stubble can grow or that unsuccessful attempts to pretend she can cook may lead to a condition called, “The nervous fart that must be held in at all costs.”

If romances were a bit more realistic, I may have looked less maniacal about the latter discovery.

One definite perk of remaining unpredictable with Tony was that he didn’t question her need to do a naked, solo, outdoor lap around the house before they had sex the night before. She’d waited for him to ask, but he hadn’t.

Smart man.

She closed her eyes and chuckled as she remembered the contents of the care package Carl had left along with the supplies they’d ordered: a huge box of condoms, all the fixings to make an ice-cream sundae except the ice cream, and vitamins. She and Tony had burst out laughing at the sight of the last item, but decided not to question the wisdom of a self-proclaimed expert.

When she opened her eyes, she found Tony watching her.

“What do you do for your parents’ business?” he asked, surprising her. They had avoided personal questions since their talk near the stream.

“I file, bill people, set up appointments.”

“You like it?”

“I hate it.”

“I didn’t take you for someone who would tolerate doing something you didn’t like for very long.”

“You’d be surprised. But I’m working on that. That’s what this trip is about—figuring out what I really want.”

“And then you’ll go home.” It was a statement, not a question.

Not if you ask me to stay. “Maybe, maybe not.”

“A woman like you would never be happy out here.”

A woman like me? His words stung like a slap. “What is that supposed to mean?”

He held up her perfectly manicured nails, running his work-roughened thumb over the soft palm of her hand. “You don’t have a callus on you, do you?”

She snatched her hand away. “I didn’t know they were a prerequisite to visiting Texas.”

“Don’t get all riled up by an observation.”

“Then don’t try to tell me where I could or couldn’t be happy. A callus or lack of one doesn’t mean a thing.”