Page 34 of The Cowboy's Secret Babies

No one was going to interrupt them up here in the woods, where the local sheriff’s deputy only bothered to patrol in better weather, looking for errant teens.

There was nothing on earth to do but enjoy this man that she’d been aching for since the last time she’d seen him, in too many different ways to count—

But especially in this way, because this was even better than she remembered.

And maybe, just maybe, she could forgive herself for throwing her whole life off course, because here she was, in full possession of the knowledge of what came from this behavior, more than ready to do it again.

Rosie was straddling him on the bench seat of his truck, there was no lying to herself anymore, and all she needed to do was surrender to him.

So she did.

She arched back, throwing her hands back to brace herself on the dash. That had the glorious effect of giving him more of what he wanted while there between her legs, it allowed her to press into that hard, glorious ridge of his.

And, at last, not worry about someone walking in on them.

She didn’t know when she began to rock herself against him, or maybe she’d been doing it all along.

It felt so good, and not enough. She felt as if her body was impatient all on its own. It knew where this was headed and it wanted him so badly that it didn’t care what she was doing.

She was fully on board.

Body. Mind.

Maybe her soul too, now that she considered it.

His mouth was a magical torture. Rosie hardly recognized the sound she was making as he played with her and teased her. Taunted her, over and over, then brought his teeth into the mix just to make it a little more spicy. Just a scrape.

Just enough to make her writhe against him, her voice rough like a stranger’s.

She could feel him grow bigger and thicker against her. Even harder than before, when surely that should have been impossible.

Rosie rocked and she rocked. She felt his hands move to the front of her jeans, felt her waistband give a little with a single expert tug, and then one of his hands was sliding down the back to grab hold of her bottom to take that rocking motion to a whole new level.

It had been so long.

And he seemed to know what she needed so well.

Because she shattered, just like that. She shook against him and lost herself in the roll and tumble, dropping her head forward so her face was near his.

He kissed her and kissed her, and then everything became something of a scramble as they awkwardly stripped off clothes with hands that were a little too excited for the task. As they bumped into each other, and laughed, and paused to kiss each other hungrily, deeply.

Ryder pushed back one of the seats to lay flat, and then picked her up and moved her into the backseat as if she weighed about as much as that turtleneck that he’d tossed aside before, like a feather.

He followed, and he was a big man, but he found a way to fit them both there. It was closer. It was awkward and it was perfect and then, finally, he was on top of her once more. Rosie could wrap her legs around him, and feel the press of his hard body, his golden skin, and that beautiful, impossibly hard chest of his as he lay over her.

But all he did was stay there, hold her face in his hands, and kiss her.

Tenderly. Sweetly.

It made her want to cry.

More, it reminded her how it had been that night, when he had done something a lot like this. It had been a wild, bright burst of passion and chemistry. And then, later, they’d gotten out of the shower and he’d taken it upon himself to seat her before him, still naked, while he brushed out her hair.

Then he’d turned her, so gently, and kissed her just like this.

Rosie had taken whole years to accept the fact that it was that very moment that made her believe, so foolishly, that she’d fallen in love with him.

She was a lot older now, far older than mere years could attest, and infinitely more wise—whether she wanted to be or not. She wasn’t the same girl she’d been then, made entirely of wishes and hopes, expectations and pie-in-the-sky dreams.

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