Free RopeMeIn by Cerise DeLand Page A

cunt flood with warm cream. She licked her lips, her eyes no longer focused
on the items before her but on mental images of her with Jed. Her with Harry.
And now— wow , was she truly lost—fantasies of her with Will.
    And I haven’t got the faintest clue who he is or why I
should want him. Other than his brothers are the finest specimens of male
virility I’ve met in years and so… Doesn’t it follow that Will must be just
like them?
    Hmm. And what was his expertise?
    Jed was a forthright man. Harry was funny and fast. Did a
woman learn the true nature of a man when she went to bed with him? Certainly
she had proof of that. With these two MacRaes. With Jeffrey, the plain vanilla
guy. With two other boys she had dated at UT in Austin, both of whom were quick
and unimaginative. And I wasn’t creative in the sack either.
    The thought struck her. To get in bed, you had to give. And
this, she knew with a glowing insight, was what she had learned from the
MacRaes. What she had been ready to learn. What she was willing to do now was
give more of herself. Give well and often. She laughed.
    She ran her hands through her hair. Stop mooning, kid. She’d promised Harry she would cook dinner while he went out to help his
brothers who still weren’t back from the range.
    Now get a move on!
    She took down two cans of crushed tomatoes, a box of thin
spaghetti and headed for the counter with them. Garlic, she found in the
vegetable basket. Onion, green pepper and even a chili too. Harry had told her
they had an herb garden out back if she needed oregano or basil or parsley, but
with the downpour still going strong outside, she was too much of a wuss to
venture out and pick any. In the wonderful freezer, she found ground beef and
pulled it out to thaw.
    Harry had been surprised she could cook. But she’d show them
she was capable of more than becoming a daring bed partner. She paused in
mid-stride to the counter, struck by the fact that Harry had not known she
could cook.
    Had even said so.
    That had passed right by her as he had ruffled her hair as
though she were a kid, kissed her as if she were made of porcelain, then waved
goodbye, assuring her he’d be back for more of her good lovin’.
    Ahem.
    Yes. But she went to the table and sat down to think.
    Horny, craven, whatever she was, she hadn’t thought too much
today about what had struck her last night. That the three of them had planned
this…this hook-up with her. Oh, not her coming to their ranch with their boxes
of leather goods. But getting her here. For the first time since she had
divorced Mr. Asshole, she felt the power of her femininity.
    She laughed. She had lost that over the last few years. And
now, she had it back. Twice over. Maybe even three times…
    Her gaze traveled to her own boxes, still on the far
counter. Unopened. Even though—she shifted and her breasts brushed the soft
cotton of Harry’s shirt— even though her own little French demi-bra was
washed and now sitting in her bedroom. Still, she hadn’t bothered to open up
the boxes, remove one fabulous treat for herself and don it. Not panties
either.
    Just as she had asked Harry in the barn, she now asked
herself. “Do you not need underwear when you’re around them?”
    No. You don’t want anything between you and them.
    She stood.
    Sank down again.
    Reeling with self-understanding.
    For minutes, she remained where she was. Absorbing the
impact of her own revelation, she didn’t argue with herself about its validity.
She knew she didn’t have to. Instinct? Good instinct? Whatever it was, it
assured her and reassured her that she was fine. And unafraid.
    They had planned to seduce her. Gratifying as that was, she
was more proud of herself that she was—and she tried not to snort at her own
choice of words here—a good fit.
     
    Will was the first to come home a few hours later. Soaked
through, he opened the back kitchen door and looked at her like a drowned man
making it to shore.
    “It’s