The Undercover Cowboy Read online

  Minutes before, when he had her up against the wall and his big thigh jutted between her legs, all she’d wanted was for him to rip her clothes off and take her right there in his foyer.

  Now, common sense returned along with the butterflies flapping around in her tummy. As his fingers worked the buttons, one by one, sliding lower and lower, the air hitting her bare back, revealing first her black lace bra and then her thong panties, she felt more and more exposed.

  The urge to run pushed through her, although she wasn’t completely sure why. She liked him. She liked him a lot. It had been a long time since she’d had sex, and, well, her body was revved and ready.

  But was she?

  Having sex with someone for the first time was fraught with excitement, anticipation, and, let’s face it, anxiety. So many worries. So many fears.

  What if he didn’t like the way she looked naked? She wasn’t a supermodel. Things jiggled in places they probably shouldn’t. What if he had a micropenis? Conversely, what if he had a huge penis and she couldn’t handle it? What if he disappointed her? What if she disappointed him? What if the sex was terrific and they wanted to do this again and again? What would that mean? Just sex or something more? Did she want something more? Was she ready for a relationship? Was he? What if Thorn gave her a permanent job and she had to move? Could they make a go of a long-distance relationship?

  Cart. Horse. She was getting ahead of herself.

  Calm down. Faith meant knowing everything would work out the way it was supposed to. Breathe. Trust.

  Her mantra. Her motto. Her life metaphor.

  “Do you trust me?” he whispered.

  “Yes.” She didn’t hesitate. Everything inside Allie told her that she could trust this man.

  “Because you trust everyone?”

  Helpless, she smiled. What could she say? “It’s worked for me so far. I’ve discovered that people are essentially good at heart, even the ones who don’t really want to be good.”

  “Discernment.” He shook his head. “You need it if you ever hope to achieve real independence. As long as you keep peering at the world through those rose-colored glasses, your parents are going to hover. They don’t believe you can look after yourself because they know there are wolves in the woods.”

  A shiver shot through her. “Are you saying you’re a wolf?”

  “I’m saying you trust blindly, Rosy. You assume everyone is as nice as you are. Believe me, Al, they aren’t. You have to be careful out there.”

  “Like you are?” she asked. “So skeptical and wary you can’t ever let your guard down?”

  “Maybe that’s why I’m so drawn to you,” he said. “I’m envious of your positive bright light.”

  She felt a powerful shift in the region of her heart. He was being honest and authentic. She could see it in his eyes. Hear it in his voice. Her fear evaporated.

  “Allie,” he whispered and undid the last button.

  Her dress fell to the floor, floated around her feet. It was only then she realized she was still holding her sandals, and she let them drop to the floor.

  He let out a long, low whistle.

  “What is it?” she whispered, afraid to turn around to face him.

  “Allie Grainger, you’re the hottest damn thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

  She smiled to herself. Yes, okay, it was a smirk. Who wouldn’t smirk when a man as incredibly handsome as Rick was making her feel as if she was the most gorgeous creature on the planet?

  “You are . . .” He pushed his hair off his forehead, blew out his breath through pursed lips. “I am the luckiest . . . well, wow.”

  He stepped closer, turned her around, and framed her face with his big palms, tilting her face up. Any lingering doubts swimming around in her head evaporated as his hand slipped from her face to her shoulders and the sultry light in his eyes said, Everything is gonna be just fine, darlin’.

  “Your turn.” She reached for his shirt, worked the buttons with frantic fingers.

  “Slow down,” he whispered and tugged her closer, his palms gliding over her waist, past her hips, moving around to cup her butt. “We’ve got all night.”

  Allie drew in a long, hungry breath through her teeth as if sucking air through a straw. “I want to . . .”

  He grinned and ran his fiery tongue along her collarbone, detonating an earthquake of tiny shivers over her body. “What?”

  Groaning, she rested her brow against the top of his head and threaded her fingers through his hair. “I’ve gotta see you without that damned shirt on.”

  A chuckle rumbled up through his lungs, sounding lively and lived-in. “All right, all right.”

  He stepped back and did a little striptease, unbuttoning his shirt one button at a time. He coyly gave her a flash of flesh, then pulled the edges of his western shirt together, hiding his chest for a second, before going on to the next button.

  “Devil,” she muttered and reached to help him, but he playfully swatted her away.

  “Hands to yourself, missy,” he said, but quickly polished off the last button and pulled the hem from his waistband, stripped the shirt off his shoulders, and flung it to the floor beside her dress.

  What a view! Allie broke out in a sweat. Crank up the air conditioner! Call the fire department! There was a five-alarm fire in her undies.

  She couldn’t help staring, her gaze transfixed, tracing every muscle with her eyes, and licking her lips, her imagination exploding with possibilities. He was beyond movie-star quality. Beyond beach body. He was a frigging work of art. Honestly, the guy was so fantastically ripped, he could have been a cyborg.

  Hmm. Her gaze dipped to the lovely V area that slipped into the waistband of his low-slung jeans. Maybe he was a cyborg.

  Unlike most guys his age, he was not pierced or inked. Nothing colored or punctured the perfection that was Rick Braedon. He was pure. Pristine. Nature in the raw. There was no need for adornment or embellishment when a man looked this good. Ink or piercings would only detract.

  Allie couldn’t help herself. She splayed her palm over his heart, sighed helplessly at the durable feel of his muscles beneath her skin. She wanted to ask him how many hours a day it took to stay in tip-top shape, but his thumb hooked her chin and he was angling her mouth up for another kiss and she forgot about everything except the sheer pleasure of being with him. Small talk took the back burner.

  His long, broad, tanned fingers got busy with the clasp on her bra, working the hook-and-eye system with breath-stealing adeptness.

  Boldly, Allie reached for the snap of his jeans.

  He grunted, a surprised sound, laced with delight, and she smiled as his lips closed over hers with fresh urgency.

  She undid the snap, reached for the zipper, felt the pressure of his hard heat against her fingers. Commando. He was going commando, his bare flesh velvet steel.

  Simultaneously, they sucked in air. His eyes darkened, and she felt hers widen. “Mmm,” he said.

  Every muscle in her body tightened, clenched. Need sliced through her like a chef’s knife, sharp and deft. She forgot to exhale, the craving almost too much to handle. She wasn’t wildly experienced sexually—she’d had three lovers in her twenty-four years—but she couldn’t recall ever feeling this level of mind-bending desire.

  Rick’s mouth moved from her lips to her chin, underneath her jaw to the hollow of her throat, taking his time with the leisurely trip. His hand whisked off her bra and his head dipped to curl his blistering tongue around her nipple.

  She grasped his shoulders and throbbing energy surged from his body into her palms, shot straight through her arms, pulsing down, down, down to end where she was melting, moist and needy.

  Chuckling, he shifted from the first damp, peaked nipple to the second, until she squirmed, desperate and mewling.

  She was so charged up, she barely noticed he’d been gradually waltzing her into his bedroom. She blinked at the big king-sized bed, fuzzy-headed but thrilled to be there. The r
oom smelled of him, masculine and provocative. He danced her to the foot of the bed and gently tipped her over.

  Her butt landed on the edge of the mattress and she raised her knees to scoot up farther, but he pressed a hand against her hip, stopping her. “I’ve got you right where I want you,” he said, his words throaty and mysterious.

  She shuddered, but it was a good kind of shiver, hard and hopeful. She lowered her knees, her legs dangling off the bed.

  “Keep your knees on the footboard,” he instructed as he knelt in front of her, and it fully hit her what he intended.

  “Oh, my!” she breathed, not really meaning to say that out loud.

  “Yes, ma’am.” His voice was a caress, heavy and slow, and he hooked his thumbs in the elastic band of her panties.

  He edged the scrap of black silk down her legs, eased it over her knees, slipped it from her heels, first one side and then the other. He tossed the panties over his shoulder with a cavalier flick of his wrist and a wolfish smile on his face.

  Nervously, she pressed her knees together. Her doubts and fears galloping back. Did she really want to go through with—?

  He tenderly parted her knees and ran his fingers over her inner thighs as if he was playing heavenly music on a keyboard. Any and all thoughts fled her mind as total awareness and heightened sensation claimed her.

  Those incredible lips of his pressed hot, fervent kisses up the inside of her leg, inching closer and closer to her feminine core.

  “Do you like this?” he murmured. “Do you want more?”

  “Yesss,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “Yesss, yesss, yesss.” A sublime snake of yeses. A streaming steam of yeses. A never-ending circle. Yes-yes-yes-yes.

  The closer he got to her entrance, the tighter her muscles tensed. By the time his tongue touched her most sensitive area, her fists were clenched, her eyes squeezed closed, her entire body stiff as a drum skin, her breath coming in short, gulping staggers.

  “Relax,” he murmured against her skin, sending a sweet vibration buzzing through her.

  Yeah, like that was so easy when he was doing the most incredible things to her. She gasped and arched her back against his wicked, eager tongue. Heat and moisture. Sensation layered on top of sensation. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. All she could do was surrender to this man and his amazing bedroom skills. He knew what he was doing.

  A couple of her boyfriends had tried oral sex before, but it had never been like this. Those instances had been half-hearted at best, uncomfortable at worst, until Allie had started to believe she didn’t really like it.

  Rick put an end to that silly misguided belief.

  He took his time, as if savoring the world’s most sumptuous meal. He had her giggling and gasping, panting and praying, clutching his head and crying for more. The man was a clit magician. The clitoris whisperer.

  His fingers slid into the game, stretching and teasing, ticking things up another notch. She had no idea there were so many levels of arousal. How was this even possible?

  She felt like a rosebud blossoming in the heat of a nurturing sun, opening up, flowering wild and free, blooming to her full potential. She was a nymph, a goddess, a queen.

  Hell, she was a glistening, glittering galaxy!

  Time hung suspended. In amber. In honey. In treacle. Languid and warm and rare. A golden moment that stretched out limitlessly, teasing her with the thought that this was how the universe secretly existed. In the immutable vastness of now.

  It seemed fated. As if from that moment when he’d saved her from those stampeding longhorns and later when he’d tucked her in the crook of his arm in the elevator, they’d been building toward this encounter.

  Toward each other.

  His touch, his skill, his confidence pushed her closer and closer to the edge. Sensation built, grew, swelled. Pushed down on her. Pressure. Heat. Vibration.

  Not already. Not yet. She wanted more. Needed to slow things down.

  “Please,” she whispered. “No.”

  “Am I hurting you?” His hand stilled, his voice filled with concern.

  “Not at all. I’m just . . . It’s just . . . I’m not ready. I want this to last.”

  “Ah, Rosy.” He laughed, kindness in his chuckle. “This is only the beginning. The first of many.”

  Her heart did a trippy little hope tap—tat-tat-tatty-tat-tat. Did he mean the first of many orgasms? Or the first of many nights like tonight?

  She sneaked a peek at his face, gazing down between her knees. His naughty lips, curled into a naughty smile, glistened wetly in the muted light. He looked smug and so damn handsome she didn’t know if she could survive many more nights like this one.

  “I want you to have fun too,” she said.

  “Believe me, darlin’,” he drawled. “I’m having the time of my life.”

  “Doesn’t—?”

  “It’s okay. Just let yourself go.”

  She was about to protest that it wasn’t fair for her to get her jollies while he still had his jeans on, but he lowered his head and went back to doing what he did so masterfully.

  That amazing mouth burning her, branding her, banishing her to the outer reaches of reason. Her body was alive with electricity. Tingling, throbbing, tickling. Jolt after jolt of sensation hit her. Robbed her of thought. And rationality.

  She was an animal. Wild. Hungry. Desperate.

  “Rick,” she shouted, not even aware she was calling his name. “Rick!” A punctuation. “Rick, Rick, Rick.” A chant. Maybe it should be her new mantra. In this moment, he was her hope, her faith, her everything. “Rick, Rick, Rick, Rick.”

  His hands and tongue performed wily wizardry, provoked, pandered.

  She arched her back off the mattress, her fingers latching on to his hair and not letting go. She cried out, a mad, tumultuous sound, full-bodied and braggy. Hopefully, his apartment had thick walls. The growing heat flared, flamed, consuming her in rhythmic waves of vivid yellow starbursts.

  He slowed.

  Teasing.

  “More,” she whispered between adrenaline-fueled giggles. “Please more.”

  He was fully in charge. She was at his mercy. But while he teased, he didn’t torment. Not much anyway. Just enough to make things even more pleasurable. He knew how to walk the fine line between pleasure and pain. Escalating the tension. Holding back in order to push her into more demanding heights.

  Allie didn’t fight it. Just let him take control. Allowed him to blow her away. To cast his magic spell. Body. Mind. Soul.

  Five seconds into the no-holds-barred onslaught and Allie was fairly certain she was going to pass out if something didn’t give soon.

  And then, oh God, she was gone. So gone. Disappeared. Vanished. She gasped, grasped, panted, quivered. Transformed from regular old Allie Grainger, Visitors Center receptionist and popup art gallery temporary assistant into a high priest. Venus. Aphrodite. Clíodhna. One of those incredible goddesses.

  Whimpering, she clutched a pillow to her chest, trying to absorb what just happened. He kicked off his cowboy boots, shucked off his pants.

  She gave him a long look, devoured him with her eyes. Sighed. If she keeled over of a heart attack right now, she’d die happy. She spread her legs wider. Motioned him with come-hither fingers.

  He climbed onto the mattress between her splayed legs, watched her with narrowed, inquisitive brown eyes.

  It had been a long time since she’d had such a powerful orgasm. Actually, she couldn’t even remember ever having an orgasm that earth-shaking, soul-stirring, world-rocking. And, greedy girl that she was, Allie wanted more. No, not just wanted more. She craved it with a yearning so strong, it rattled her to the core.

  Rick seemed to be on the same page. He paused to dig a foil packet from the pocket of his jeans. With practiced expertise, he had the condom open and rolled on in under eight seconds.

  He paused, his eyes searching her face. “How are you doing, sweetheart?”

  Sweetheart
.

  A squishy feeling squeezed her chest. It was a dangerous word that conjured boyfriend images. Yes, she liked him. Yes, this was a very good night. Yes, she wanted more, but she didn’t expect it. Or, rather, didn’t want to start expecting it.

  Sweetheart stirred expectations, and expectations stirred fear.

  “Allie?”

  “Fine.” She bobbed her head, then realized he was checking to make sure she was ready to take this show to its final conclusion. “I’m fine. Finer than fine.”

  He stretched out beside her, raised up on one elbow, and looked down at her with an expression of such acceptance and tenderness that her heart floated up out of her chest and into her throat, bobbing like a helium-filled balloon.

  Remember this: balloons burst. Or float away. They don’t stay bright and cheery and high forever.

  He leaned toward her, his big body parallel to hers. “Is it okay if I kiss you now?”

  “You don’t have to ask permission,” she said. “I want this as much as you do.”

  “Allie.” He said her name simply and gathered her against him. Inhaled the scent of her hair. Pressed his mouth against hers.

  He tasted of her. Salty and sexy. What a turn-on!

  She tugged his head down, deepening the kiss. Letting him know it was okay to share. She loved the mingling, the merging, the magic of two people fully enjoying each other’s bodies.

  “Mmm,” he moaned as if tasting the most fabulous meal ever cooked.

  They laughed together. And kissed. Long and slow and creatively.

  He rolled her over, flipping her on top of him, her knees falling to either side of his hips, straddling him. His hands circled her waist, holding her poised over this straining erection.

  “Look at me,” he whispered.

  They exchanged glances.

  “Do you feel it?” he asked.

  “What?” she whispered back.

  “Our energies converging.”

  Oh, boy, did she feel it! The heat and vibration surging from him into her even without yet being joined.

  Slowly, he began to lower her down onto him. She reached to touch his shaft, to guide him into her willing wetness.

  “No hands,” he commanded. “Let our bodies find their way.”