Authors: Lorelei James

Tags: #Red Hots!, #Western Romance

Cowgirls Don't Cry (42 page)

This was something she couldn’t reenact. She could touch herself and imagine his mouth between her legs. She could fire up her vibrator and imagine him fucking her. But nothing could duplicate his kiss, the skilled play of his lips and tongue that seemed to remember all her favorite moves. His fingers trailed from her hair, down her throat to her shoulder and back, drawing her against him. Did he realize she wore nothing underneath the robe? He would, soon, because her legs parted of their own volition, letting his hips nudge closer to hers. Already she grew slick and swollen, and she barely stopped herself from tilting her hips to rub against him. How could her body betray her so fully?

She pressed her palm to his chest, intending to push him away, but her fingers had other ideas, clutching at his shirt, feeling his heart pounding, as affected as she was. He eased back and she opened her mouth to tell him to go, but his lips found that tender spot below her ear, his short goatee adding another layer of sensation to the caress, and her pussy squeezed with anticipation of having him inside her.

Only that couldn’t happen. She had to stop him.

Instead, her hand curved around the back of his head and she tilted her chin to allow him freer access to her throat. More than anything, she wanted to rub along the hard ridge of the erection he’d been sporting since they danced, wanted to make herself come apart in his arms, but she kept her feet flat on the ground, her hips still, willing herself to have some control of the situation, though she was fast spiraling away from that resolution.

“Missed you,” he murmured against her skin, stroking his thumb over her shoulder through the thick terry robe. “Missed your taste, missed your voice, missed your laugh. Missed your body.”

Send him away. Send him away now. You don’t want to pine over him for another eight months.
If only her hormones would heed her head. No, they were already seduced. She huffed a breath. She’d get

him out of her system tonight. She wouldn’t have time for him tomorrow in the flurry of wedding preparations. Even if they made love again tomorrow night, they’d part ways Sunday. Not enough time to get attached to him again.

“Just tonight.”

He eased back, his expression wary. “I didn’t just come here to make love to you. I want to talk about—”

She loosened the belt of her robe and let it fall to the floor. With a growl, he gathered her against him, one hand splayed across her hip, the other coursing up her naked thigh.

“God, touch me, Eric.”

He curved his fingers around her breast, the calluses of his palms rough on the tender skin, the sensation making her wetter. Now she tilted her hips forward, seeking satisfaction by rubbing along his cock, still in his slacks.

He set her away from him, hands firm on her hips. “The bed,” he managed as he unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt and dragged it over his head, then unhooked his slacks in record time and dropped them to the floor.

His magnificent body was better now than it had been eight months ago, lean, muscular, and God, his penis was long and hard. Suddenly she remembered every stroke, from every time he’d made love to her.

Memories were powerful things. She lowered herself to the soft, pillowy bedding without taking her gaze from him.

“Condom?” she asked as he approached, cock bobbing with the movement. Funny how they both seemed to have lost the ability to speak in complete sentences.

“I knew I was going to see you, didn’t I?”

“Mm. We have language,” she murmured, leaning back on her elbows and drawing up her knees.

“Get it.” She nodded toward his pants on the floor.

“Not yet.” He braced his hands between her feet on the bed and parted her legs. “It’s been a long time since I tasted you. Christ, Haven, you’re wet.”

“Um.” His breath along the inside of her thighs didn’t help. She wanted his mouth on her more than she wanted to breathe. But, “I want to come with you inside me.”

“You will,” he said with that maddening grin and lowered his head.

Hit the erotic jackpot.

Sin City

Hot in the City, Book 2

Diana Marsh is trying to change her wicked ways. She’s even dating a guy everyone agrees is prime husband material—conservative and boring, everything her family could wish for. There’s only one secret vice left to eliminate: Marc Davenport, the super sexy co-worker she’s been flirting with online. A business trip to Las Vegas is her opportunity to do just that, to sow the last of her wild oats with Marc before retiring behind the white picket fence. And where better than the ultra-erotic playground of Sin City?

A new job awaits Marc in France, and a casual fling with Diana is the perfect send-off—together they indulge in every conceivable hot and scintillating fantasy the town has to offer. Even if her resolve to turn off her sensual nature bothers Marc, he reminds himself that their naughty games are only temporary and she’s a determined woman with a plan.

However, when the two are ripped apart without warning, all bets are off. To Marc, Diana’s wild side is too beautiful to be contained. Too beautiful, he suddenly realizes, to let him walk away without playing to win.

Warning: Contains a full deck of erotic delights and a heroine who's holding all the cards—three of a
kind and
everything’s
wild. Who says the house always wins?

Enjoy the following excerpt for
Sin City:

Diana Marsh had just switched off the light next to her bed when the phone rang. She reached out in the darkness and put the receiver to her ear. “Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me.” Marc Davenport, her work associate and long-distance friend. Or was he more than a friend?

Their office-to-office work calls had gotten longer and more flirtatious recently, and hearing his voice made her smile in the dark. “Hey.”

“You sound sleepy—were you asleep? Damn, what time is it there? I totally forgot about the time difference.”

“It’s—” she switched on the light and sought out her bedside clock “—just after eleven, but that’s okay. I only went to bed a few minutes ago.” In fact, she’d decided to turn in after she’d given up on him calling, thinking maybe he’d decided it was a bad idea.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

So simple, one little word—
sweetheart
. Despite herself, just the sound of the endearment, delivered in his rich baritone, made her breasts ache a little, her pussy tingle with a hint of awareness. “Yeah, I’m sure. I want to talk.”

It was a first for them—a call outside the office. But the workload had been light today and a phone call to ask her opinion on the wording of an entry in the fall catalog had turned into a phone call about a hundred other things: movies they’d seen lately, music they listened to, Marc’s hopes of moving to Europe for a while, and even the guy Diana was currently seeing—although she’d tried to steer away from that topic quickly. Before they’d finally hung up, Marc had said, “Hey, why don’t I call you later tonight? We can talk some more.”

She’d agreed, thinking it was safe, harmless. Just a little fun, just talking with a friend—a friend that sent frissons of heat echoing through her veins more and more lately.

But she couldn’t think about that—in fact, she had to
stop
those feelings before they got out of control.

Because Diana was done being the black sheep of the family, finished being the Class A Bad Girl she’d been her whole life. She was cleaning up her act, playing it safe for a change.

Surely a late night call from a…
friend
wouldn’t interfere with that?

“I thought maybe you’d forgotten,” she said, “or decided not to call.”

“No way, sweetheart—you know I love to hear your pretty voice. I’d have called earlier, but I just got home.”

“I hope you weren’t at the office all this time.” Marc worked at the company’s corporate headquarters in Las Vegas, where she calculated the time to be after eight.

“No, nothing like that. I just went out with some guys after work. A long happy hour.”

“Sounds fun.” Diana didn’t
do
happy hour anymore and the pleasure-seeking part of her soul experienced a small bout of envy.

“I wouldn’t have called, though, if I’d known you’d already put on your jammies and gotten all tucked in to bed.”

She laughed. “I’m not exactly four years old, you know. I don’t have a strict bedtime.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m very aware you’re not a little girl.”

“And just what does
that
mean?” she asked in a playful tone. Despite talking on the phone a couple of times a week for the past year, not to mention sending lots of e-mail—some of it work-related, some of it chatty—she and Marc had never met.

“I’ve seen your picture on the company website, sweetheart,” he admitted. She’d seen his, too, and found him utterly hot—the best-looking thing in a suit and tie she’d ever laid eyes on.

“And?”

“And…” She could almost hear his playful grin. “I liked what I saw. A lot.”

“What did you like so much?”

“Your gorgeous brown hair with just a hint of auburn, your hazel eyes and creamy skin, and that sexy pinstripe suit you were wearing.”

She let out a small giggle. “You can’t even see my suit below the shoulders in that picture. And besides, I didn’t know pinstripes were sexy.”

“What can I say? Professional women get me hot.”

Diana didn’t reply, just sat up in bed a little and let
herself
get hot at the knowledge that she wasn’t the only one caught up in a bit of lust here.

“Just please tell me,” he said, “that the skirt is as short as I like to imagine it is.”

She let her voice go a little husky. “Uh, yeah, it is. I’m a short skirt kinda girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

But I’m a
good
girl, too
, she reminded herself. Marc had the ability to make her forget herself, the self she intended to be from now on.

“So what kind of pajama girl are you? What are you wearing right now?”

She sucked in her breath—this was starting to get steamy. And was about to get even steamier, she had a feeling. “The white baby-doll tank and panty set from the catalog,” she said, unduly gratified to know he’d be able to picture the skimpy outfit with ease. They were employed by Adrianna, Inc., a maker of fine lingerie and loungewear, and Marc worked on the team that designed and produced the quarterly catalogs.

“Damn, honey—any chance you’re on a cell phone that can send me a picture?”

She laughed. “Even if I was, what makes you think I’d send you one of me in my little nighties?”

His chuckle was rich and full-bodied. “Well, maybe you wouldn’t, not yet. But I bet I could talk you into it.”

“How?”

“That’s for me to know,” he said, then shifted the subject back to her baby-doll tank set. “So, tell me, does the ultra-soft cotton we describe in the catalog feel as good against your skin as we promise?”

She smiled to herself. “Mmm-hmm. Very soft and silky, just like the copy says.”

“And do your nipples show through the white?”

Her breath caught and her cunt turned restless, tickly. “I’ll…have to check on that,” she said, aware her voice had come out more whispery than she’d intended. Getting up, she walked to her dresser and glanced in the mirror. Two dark, sexy shadows puckered against the fabric; her breasts turned heavy.

Returning to the bed, she picked up the phone, bit her lip slightly, then answered. “Yes, quite clearly, in fact.”

“Mmm, I bet you’ve got very pretty breasts.”

She wished he could see the come-hither smile she knew she wore. “Well, if I do say so myself…”

He offered a light laugh before getting sexy again. “Are your nipples hard?”

Another quick wave of heat. “Um, yeah. They definitely are.”

“And your pubic hair? Does it show through the white cotton, too?”

What a wicked boy, she thought. And what a wicked girl she was, as well. For the moment, she’d given up trying to fight it. “I don’t
have
any pubic hair. I keep it waxed off.”

A slightly stunned silence met her ear and she enjoyed it immensely. “All of it?”

“Yeah.”

“God, sweetheart, you just made my dick hard.”

Her voice came breathy, hot. “And you just made my pussy wet.”

Another tense silence—but this one was pure heat, shared across a distance of over two thousand miles.

“Touch it for me,” he whispered. “Will you do that?”

“On one condition.”

“Name it.”

“Wrap your hand around your cock for
me
.”