Page 43 of Welcome Home, Cowboy
“Two glasses,” she said, walking her hands back to her feet and slowly straightening her body. As she did, her body leaned up against his, her back to his front. His hands were still settled on her waist, keeping her firmly planted on solid ground.
“Those were big glasses. Maybe we should move this over to the couch.”
She turned to face him. They were standing so close she could feel his breath against her cheek. She wasn’t drunk, but she’d had just enough wine to lose her inhibitions. “Or the bedroom,” she said quietly, focusing on his mouth. She wanted to taste it again, taste him. The kiss at the barn had been too brief, too innocent. It’d left her hungry for more.
“Julie,” he said in a low growl.
“I know. But we can be adults about this. We don’t have to end up hating each other. And I won’t stalk you.”
“Julie,” he said again.
“If you don’t want me, just say so, Lawson.”
“That’s not it,” he said. “Because believe me, I want you.”
She looked up at him under her eyelashes. “Then take me.” Lifting her chin, she challenged him. “Take me to your bedroom.”
He stared at her for a long moment. She was about to back away and take back her offer. Then his hand went up, cupping the back of her head and pulling her toward him. His mouth covered hers, his tongue lashed against hers. His body pressed against hers, and she felt him. He wanted her just as badly as she wanted him.
“Take me to your bed,” she whispered, pulling away from the kiss. Her hands clutched the front of his shirt tightly.
With a growl from deep in his throat, he dipped and lifted her off her feet, making her squeal and laugh at the same time. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, with just enough drawl to remind her that he was a cowboy. She’d never been taken to bed by a cowboy. Or a Marine for that matter. But there was a first for everything.
Darkness wrapped around them as Lawson entered his bedroom and laid her gently on his bed. She could still see his face, his eyes set on her.
“You sure you want to do this? Are you too drunk?” he asked.
“Lawson. I’m not drunk. It would take half that bottle to make me drunk. But yes, I’m sure,” she said, her whole body tingling.
He pulled his shirt over his head. As she sat up and started to reach for his belt, he stopped her. “I took my shirt off. Your turn.”
A flash of dirty old Mr. Adams saying the same thing when she’d gone to provide massage therapy for him the other week crossed her mind. She shook that image away and refocused on the one of Lawson, bare chested in front of her. “Fair enough.” She grabbed the hem of her shirt and lifted it slowly, tossing it to the floor.
His eyes stilled on the skin above the lace borders of her bra.
“Now, it’s your turn to remove something else,” she said, grabbing his belt again. This time he let her unfasten it. She slowly pulled the zipper open.
“Your turn.” He took ahold of her arms and gave a soft tug, urging her to her feet. Then he unbuttoned her jeans, unzipped her, and gave a hard yank on the denim. He followed her jeans down, falling to his knees and putting his face at level with the source of all her tingles.
“What are you doing?” she breathed, already knowing. “It’s your turn to take off your pants.”Because fair was fair, right?
“I don’t play fair all the time,” he said, running his finger under her lace underwear.
She closed her eyes, finding the roughness of his finger against her skin sinfully intoxicating. Now she really was drunk. Her world was spinning and it was all she could do to keep both feet on the ground. His kisses trailed up to her bare stomach, her chest, one shoulder, the side of her neck. He pressed her back on the bed and stood, taking off his own pants now. Then his boxers fell andoh, for the love of Pete,whoever that was. This was really going to happen. She was going to have sex with Lawson. Unless she stopped it.Hell, no.
Her throat grew dry. “Do you have, um…a…um…condom?” There was no way they could continue without one.
Something in his posture changed. “Don’t you have one?”
The tingles in her body came to an immediate halt. “Why would I have one? I’m not…I don’t…”
“Neither do I,” he said.
“But you’re a guy. You don’t have sex?” she asked.
“Yes. Of course I do. I’m a guy,” he repeated. He was still standing in front of her, naked and ready. “I just haven’t since returning home. And I didn’t while I was deployed.”
She did the math in her head. Lawson had been home a few months. His deployment had been short-lived due to the accident, but still, that was a long time.
