Free Taken, Not Spurred (Lone Star Burn) by Ruth Cardello Page A

instantly self-conscious and went rigid with embarrassment. I have to be the least sex y . . .
    He eased her back a step, but held her as she swayed a bit and shook her head. “If you want to go, I’ll help you find a room in town. Your horse can remain here until you’re ready. He’ll be safe here and you can visit him as much as you like. But if you stay tonight, you won’t sleep in the guest room.” A slow sexy smile stretched his lips. “You likely won’t sleep at all.” His hand slipped beneath her hair and cupped the back of her head, tipping it ever so slightly upward, raising her kiss-swollen mouth toward him again. “Your choice.”
    A faint voice of reason attempted to be heard. He could be dangerous. He showed no remorse about reading my private writings. What else would he do without remorse?
    I should leave.
    And spend the rest of my life wondering what it would have been like?
    She looked into those guarded cowboy eyes and weighed common sense against temptation.
    Say yes.
    He’d never been a man who had to ask, but he feared he might beg if she refused his offer. Nature had been kind to him in some ways. Female companionship had always been readily available to him. At the height of his career he’d made the “World’s Sexiest” lists in gossip magazines and had enjoyed the benefits of that title for a time. So many women, their names and faces blurred and faded in the years since.
    When that life had come to a crashing halt, there had still been offers, but none of them had ever shaken him the way Sarah did with one look. He’d meant every word he’d said to her.
    I want her.
    Now.
    I want to push her to her knees and feel those soft lips on my cock. Right here. Right now. That hot little tongue needs to circle me, inviting me to fuck her mouth. And I will. I’ll bury my hands in her long blonde curls and hold her head there while I go deeper and deeper. I’ll show her just how to suck while I thrust and she’ll open her mouth wider for me. When I come, I want to feel her eagerly swallowing as she cups my balls, begging for more.
    I want to lift her up, taste myself on her lips, and fuck her mouth with my tongue while my hands rip away that pretty little blouse and those jeans that are molded to every sweet curve. I want to sink my fingers into her—into that tight little angel pussy. I’ll show her what her clit was made for and love her wetness on my hand. I’ll take those tits in my mouth and tease them until all she can do is cry for more. When she’s begging for it, I’ll lay her down and taste that honey. Because that’s how she’d be—sweet and fresh on my tongue. I won’t stop licking and sucking until she comes in my mouth.
    Again and again.
    Then I’ll raise myself up, sink just my tip into her, feel those wet lower lips welcome me as her mouth ha d . . .
    It was then he realized she was talking, had been for some time. He shifted uncomfortably and attempted to focus on what she was saying.
    “Do you know what I mean?” she asked impatiently.
    He shook his head and smiled. Not one damn bit. Then he waited. One thing he knew about women was if they made a point they thought needed saying, they’d say it again.
    She put both hands on those adorable hips, hips his lips were itching to kiss. “This isn’t funny.”
    “No, ma’am,” he said with mock solemnness.
    “You can’t proposition me and then just stand there smiling like it’s a joke.”
    “Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked. The heat of her gaze dropped to his bulging jeans, making his boner jerk and strain for freedom. “I’ll admit I’m finding it hard to concentrate on anything but getting you up to my room and showing you just how serious I am.”
    “Oh,” she said, and was silent for a blissful moment before she continued, “I was going over the pros and cons involve d . . . ” Her words trailed off as her eyes riveted on the front of his jeans.
    He pulled her against him again,