Free One Hot Cowboy by Anne Marsh Page A

rubbing
    wickedly against the erection straining
    against the buttons of his jeans.
    “Then I guess we have a whole lot of
    lost time to make up for.” What that sexy
    little rub of her leg was doing to him
    belied her prosaic tone.
    There was nothing civilized or decent
    about how he felt, about how her rain-
    soaked body moving against his felt. This
    was raw. Earthy. Christ, yes, he wanted to
    sleep with her, lose himself in her. She
    was old enough, and, just maybe, she
    wanted him, too. But that wasn’t all he
    wanted. He wasn’t sure what the something
    more was that he craved, but he knew for
    damned sure he wanted more than sex, no
    matter how hot.
    “Don’t overthink, Cabe.” She placed her
    hand on his mouth. “This is simple. Do we
    . . . have something here? Yes or no.”
    He gave in to the temptation to press a
    kiss against her palm, to inhale the sweet,
    clean scent of her. When he moved his
    head, her hand slipped down to his jaw.
    “Yes,” he growled. “Goddamn it, yes,
    Rose.”
    “No more talking. Not now. Let’s just
    dance.”
    He slowly swung her around, holding
    her in his arms. Taking a long second to
    savor the heat and scent of the woman.
    He lowered his mouth slowly this time.
    Giving her time to anticipate. To move
    away if she had to, because he needed this
    to be as perfect for her as he sensed it
    would be for him.
    His mouth captured hers, gentle but
    inexorable. His first kiss was just a warm
    brush of his lips against her closed mouth.
    Just feeling the soft skin beneath his and
    the sweet promise of more.
    “You’re perfect, darlin’,” he whispered.
    He kissed her again, harder and deeper.
    His arms wrapped around her, pulling her
    up against him so that he could feel all of
    her as he explored her mouth and lost
    himself
    in
    her
    sweet,
    wet
    heat.
    Somewhere, somehow, their kiss changed.
    Became hotter. Her hands slid up his arms,
    locking behind his neck and pulling him
    down in to her as she met him touch for
    touch in a blaze of sweet heat spiraling out
    of control.
    Chapter Four
    “L ast chance.” The pickup roared beneath
    the
    hand-lettered
    sign
    announcing
    Blackhawk Ranch. Usually, when he drove
    beneath that sign, he couldn’t stop the little
    flare of pride. His daddy had done his best
    to run this place into the ground after their
    mama died, but Cabe had held on. He and
    his brothers had made the sign themselves,
    burning each letter into the wood, one by
    one.
    Now, that sign meant there was half a
    mile left until he’d have Rose where he
    wanted her. Where he’d dreamed of having
    her. He turned his head and stared at his
    companion in the front seat beside him.
    She watched him right back, looking
    hungry.
    “You’re not getting off that easy,
    cowboy,” she teased bravely. “If you’ve
    got cold feet, let me know.” Curling her
    legs up on the seat, she leaned into him.
    He’d turned the heater on, soaking the cab
    in warmth, and now her drying hair curled
    wildly. He put a hand on her leg, needing
    to touch her just that little bit, even though
    he could see the house now. Just a few
    more minutes, and he’d have her home.
    Home . She’d come back to Lonesome,
    expecting to inherit a home. Instead, she’d
    inherited a mortgage she couldn’t possibly
    pay back. He was going to take that home
    from her.
    After he had her .
    Yeah. He shouldn’t be doing this.
    Shouldn’t want her like this, but he did,
    and bringing her here felt somehow right.
    “There’s nothing cold about me,
    darlin’.” He grinned and threw the pickup
    into park.
    “So,” she asked, leaning toward him
    before he could get his hand on the door.
    “Are you still mad at me for making you
    wait so long for me to get here?”
    A slow smile tugged at the corners of
    his mouth. If they sat there much longer,
    half the house would be out to see what
    was up. He didn’t want an audience for
    what he had in mind. “You did take six
    months,” he drawled.
    “I