Page 8 of The Cowboy's Forbidden Bride

And Cat did. She didn’t want to rip apart any legends, she just wanted to create a little lore of her own.

She wanted tolive.

And the thing about Wilder Carey was that he was a very hot dream in boots and a Stetson.

He was the kind of fantasy that helped a girl drift off to sleep at night, though the wise ones knew enough to dismiss that sort of dream come morning. Because until Harlan Carey, the oldest of the Carey brothers, had gotten married a few months ago, it was an accepted fact that no woman around here was likely to land one of them.

And even if someone could landoneof them—bets were always on Harlan and Boone, the nicest of the five brothers—no one expected thatWilderwould ever be tamed.

He made her think of wild horses, running free, but he was far more dangerous. It was the way he could smile in that knowing way of his, making everyone around him wish they knew whatever it was he knew, too. It was the way the air seemed to crackle in his vicinity like even the atmosphere itself felt the need to primp and preen in his presence.

“You should thank me for pulling you out of that bar,” he said then, with no sign of that smile but entirely too much electricity. “Because I had the benefit of being raised by two separate mothers, both of them dedicated to making sure that their hardheaded sons know how to treat a woman and how to make sure she’s interested. And you might not say no, Cat, but your whole body is saying it for you. Now imagine if that was what happened in there with Easy Rider after he’d gone to all the trouble to buy you a drink and grunt in your direction.”

“My body is not saying no,” Cat corrected him. “And neither am I.”

But she got his meaning. Maybe she’d been faking her enthusiasm inside, and hoping the drink would make up the difference. Because it was easy to sit somewhere safe and dream about running wild. It had been significantly less dreamy inside that bar, from the bar itself—sticky, at best—and the men there—same—than it had been in her head.

She wasn’t sorry that he’d dragged her out, if she was honest.

But that did mean that this—here, right now, withhim—might be her one and only chance to see what it was like to jump off of a cliff and find out if she could figure out how to fly on her way down.

So she pushed away from the door of the shop behind her and closed the distance between them, propping herself up with her hands on that frankly stunning chest of his that was hard and warm to the touch.

Up close, he was even more beautiful, what with that distracting arrangement of dark hazel eyes, dark blond hair that was more dark than blond, especially at night, and that mouth of his that could inspire a girl to do all manner of foolish things.

And that was what she wanted, so that was what she did.

Cat pushed herself up on her toes, then pressed her mouth to his.

For a moment, there was just the shock of that kind of contact. Mouth to mouth. Her closed lips against his.

It was… pleasant.

Okay, it was something more thanpleasant.

She’dseentoo many kisses to count. In real life, on screens. And watching people kiss was one thing, but Wilder was something else. He was warm like he was his own wood-burning stove in winter. His lips were…firm.

For some reason, Cat could feel that firmness wind its way down the center of her until it kicked into a kind of blooming thing deep in her belly.

He made a low sort of noise. And then he moved.

She wanted to analyze every second of what was happening, but she couldn’t quite hold onto a thought. Because Wilder angled his head, and then there was a strong arm around her back and a hand in her hair, and then he was licking his way into her mouth.

And it was scalding hot, everywhere.

Cat could feeleverything, from the grip his fingers had on her head to the way he bent her back over that arm wrapped around her and yet somehow kept her body tight to his.

She had read enough about kissing to know what he was doing with his tongue, his lips, but that all seemed so clinical when what he was doing was awildfire.

He tasted like whiskey and she felt an instant, overwhelming, contact intoxication. She was dizzy, and wild with it, and her body reacted like he had lit a match and held it to her. Everything wasalight.

Like she was her very own blaze.

Cat didn’t know what to do, but her body seemed to catch on quick. She arched herself against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to match what he was doing. She let her tongue tangle with his. She angled her head when he did, matching him as best she could, tasting and exploring and letting herself burn and burn and burn.

She felt like she was flying, as if she’d hurtled off the side of a cliff and found herself some wings, and it was all wrapped up in him. Thespecificityof Wilder Carey. She could smell him all around her, leather and man. She could tastehim. She was aware of his strength and that firm mouth and the way he held her.

Excitement flooded her veins. Everything got brighter and hotter and bloomed deeper and wider inside of her.

---