Free Cowboy Crazy by Joanne Kennedy Page A

probably catch on his rough hands, maybe even tear. He wasn’t the kind of man who could handle delicate things. Fine china broke in his hands, and delicate women didn’t last long either.
    And for all her spunk, he sensed a fragility behind Sarah’s professional facade, a hidden store of secrets and insecurities. Not that she’d ever admit it. He could tell she was a regular warrior princess when it came to shielding her feelings.
    “Princess.” He realized too late he’d said the word out loud. Worse yet, his hand had followed his thoughts, reaching out to touch the silky surface of her shirt.
    “Don’t call me that.”
    She might be objecting to the name, but she wasn’t pushing him away. He ran a cautious, gentle fingertip down the faint outline of her bra strap, tracing the delicate line of lace down to the place where her breast swelled in a sweet, sensuous curve.
    “Sorry.” He toyed with the necklace that dangled between her breasts. At the office she’d been wearing a dignified diamond chip in an abstract setting. Now she was wearing a little silver horse charm on a chain. It looked like a kid’s necklace.
    He lifted his finger to touch the point of her china doll chin. “Can’t help it. Can’t help—any of this.”
    He tipped her face up to his. With her pale skin and wide eyes, she made him think of a fawn, sleek and soft and Bambi-eyed. Was this the same Sarah he’d met in the office? She seemed so hesitant now. So—womanly. A tangle of conflicting feelings welled up in his chest, a need to protect her combined with an urge to dominate her now that she’d showed a hint of submission.
    He smoothed a lock of hair behind her ears. He hadn’t intended it to be a sexual touch, just a comforting one, like you’d use to calm a skittish horse. She tilted her head and for a moment he held her cheek in his palm. She closed her eyes and drew in a soft breath, her lips parting, and there was nothing he could do but kiss her.
    Her lips were so delicate, so perfectly shaped. He’d just meant to touch them with his own, but he couldn’t resist flicking out his tongue to trace the smooth curves of her upper lip and that sweet little dip in the middle. When he felt its pillowy, velvet texture give way, an arrow of desire hit his heart as surely as if she’d aimed it. But she hadn’t aimed it. She wasn’t half-trying. She was giving in to him, surrendering.
    So why did he feel so damned helpless?
    He buried his fingers in her hair and deepened the kiss, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and pulling her to him. Sure enough, the silk shirt snagged on his rough hand, but when he slid his grip down to her waist the cloth wafted weightlessly over his hand and he was touching her skin, smoother than any silk and warm, so warm under his fingertips.
    She shifted in his hands and he started to pull back, but she was moving toward him, not away. He realized with a start that her lips were seeking his as desperately as he’d sought hers. His palms cupped her waist and her body bent backward, arching not to escape but to press herself against him. He moved one hand up her side, savoring the way she shivered as his fingertips ran along the edge of her bra. The other drifted low, stroking the perfect curve of her ass, and she let out a sound that was feminine and wild and totally uncivilized.
    Her little tongue touched his and slicked along the side, then dipped teasingly past his lips and flicked out again. That might have been an accident, but then she did it again and they were past kissing. This was something far more, him thrusting, her parrying, and he felt desire spiral up in his loins and make him so hard so fast he thought he’d die if he didn’t reach down and release the pressure. But his hand got sidetracked on the way, sliding over her breast, feeling the soft flesh yield while the lace teased his fingers.
    Smoothing his thumb over the curve, he felt her nipple hardening to his touch and had a