Free Cowboy Player: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 3 by Mia Hopkins

through the warmth swirling in her chest. She’d never asked a man to sleep with her before. “I don’t want to lose you as a friend,” she said slowly. “But tonight, I can’t help wanting…” She trailed off, unable to find the words.
    They were quiet for a long time.
    When he finally spoke, Clark’s voice was deep and steady. “I think I know what you want, because I want it too.” He stroked her hair and kissed her temple, the exact same place he’d kissed when he first invited her down this rabbit hole. “One last night together. Right?”
    She gasped softly, relishing the sensation of his lips on her bare skin. Pleasure spiked in her brain like a drug.
    “One last night together,” she repeated. “Then we leave this part of us behind. It stays here and we move on. What do you think?”
    He was quiet for a moment. He stroked her lower back, edging lower and lower with each languid sweep. “If this is going to be the last time I’m going to make love to you,” he whispered against her neck, “I’m going to give you everything I’ve got. Are you ready for that?”
    The sultry promise in his voice sharpened her senses. She was more than ready.
    “Yes,” she whispered.
    His taut chest was feverish against her fingertips. She tipped her chin up, closed her eyes and kissed him. Their lips melded together so sweetly that the pleasure of it trickled like warm honey through her body.
    Clark MacKinnon could kiss like an angel, but there was nothing angelic about the way he made love. As he kissed her, Clark untied the straps of her dress, pulled the silky fabric down and tossed it away. He unfastened her strapless bra and dropped it on the carpet. His big thumbs hooked on to the waist of her panties; when he yanked them down, Melody caught the scent of her own arousal. She was wet for him. She’d been turned on from the moment he’d answered the door, shirtless and hotter than the hinges on the gates of hell.
    Clark ran a slow trail of kisses down her throat until he reached her breasts. He sucked one hard nipple into his mouth and teased her with the tip of his tongue. Then he reached down and put his hand between her legs. He swiped one warm finger from the base of her slick seam up to her clit. Melody hissed, unprepared for the shock of his touch.
    “You okay?” he whispered, a wicked grin on his lips.
    “I’m burning up.”
    “We can fix that.”
    He slid his arm under her knees and picked her up at once. Feeling lightheaded with desire, she wrapped her hands around his shoulders as he carried her to the balcony.
    “Someone will see,” she said.
    “No one will see.” He set her down. The clay tiles were cold against her bare feet, and the cool breeze raised goosebumps on her naked body. “Put your hands on the rail, facing me.”
    She did as he told her. The wrought iron railing was cold and she recoiled for a moment. He reached out and clapped her hands to the metal.
    “I said, ‘put your hands on the rail’,” he growled.
    The cool command in his words made them stronger than any rope. She shivered, remembering the night they’d slept together. His outward sweetness belied a man capable of making her come so hard that she’d felt echoes of his pounding deep inside her body for days.
    One more searing kiss and Clark slid to his knees before her. “Open,” he said.
    Her breath in her throat, she spread her legs. With his giant hands, Clark stroked her hips with the barest touch before sliding the pads of his thumbs forward to part the dark hair just above her sex.
    Her senses sharpened. She heard the cars passing quietly below on Sunset. Crickets sang in the shadows, a late-night mockingbird babbled in the eucalyptus trees. The seventh-floor balcony was dark. Clark was right—no one could see them.
    Clark leaned forward and, without preamble, sealed his hot lips over her. His muscular tongue strummed her clit immediately, flicking it with a steady rhythm that matched the drumbeat in