If she had her way, he’d never wear a shirt again. She’d seen classic marble statues that didn’t look this good. Plus she loved a man with some chest hair, and statues didn’t have any.
His voice broke her concentration. “I have an idea.”
“What?”
“If you took off a few things, too, then after your visual tour, we could . . . proceed.”
The plan had merit. The more she revealed of his gorgeous body, the more she wanted to experience that restrained power. “Okay.”
“There’s a chair right behind you if you want to sit down and pull off your boots.”
She had to drag her attention from his magnificent chest, but she managed to accomplish that long enough to locate the wooden chair. After she’d removed her boots and socks, she stood.
“How about your shirt?”
She saw no reason not to. She stripped it off and tossed it on the chair behind her. Then she figured the bra could go, as well.
“Might as well ditch the jeans, too.” He made it sound like a casual suggestion, but there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at her.
“You’re not going to grab me when I come back over there, are you?”
“Nope. I’m following your plan to the letter.”
She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her thighs, which were a hundred times more sensitive than they had been a few minutes ago.
His breathing changed as he followed her movements, and his eyes grew so dark they were almost black. Then his gaze traveled slowly back up. It lingered on her white lace panties, caressed her midriff, and settled on her breasts.
She could almost feel the brush of his fingers along her inner thighs and the teasing pressure of his hand against the damp crotch of her panties. Under his intense stare, her breasts tingled and her nipples grew taut.
He took a shaky breath. “How about—”
“No. Not yet.”
He groaned softly. “Have mercy, Anastasia.”
“I’m almost done.” She quivered as she walked back to the bed. “You’ve been a good sport.”
“This could backfire, you know.”
“How?”
“All this waiting. One thrust and game over.”
She hadn’t figured on that possibility. “That would be unfortunate.”
“You’re telling me. I’m the one who promised this was a dud-free zone.”
“Are you beyond hope?”
“Not yet.” His jaw clenched. “Getting there.”
“Where do you keep your condoms?”
“Here.” He leaned over, yanked on the bedside table drawer, and pulled it right off its moorings. It clattered to the floor, along with a box of condoms.
She snatched up the box. “Take off the rest. I’ll get one of these.”
“Have you visualized enough?” He stood and shucked his jeans and briefs.
“I think so.” She was in the process of digging a foil packet out of the box when she came to a full stop. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed the most impressive package she’d ever seen in her life. She turned to stare. “Oh, Mac.”
“Give me that. You can memorize me later.” He took the packet and ripped it open. “Better get rid of your panties because I would hate to tear them to shreds.”
His urgent tone galvanized her into action. By the time he’d rolled the condom on that amazing penis, she’d taken off her panties. He caught her hand and they tumbled onto the bed, laughing like crazy people.
But he quickly pinned her to the mattress and moved between her thighs. Then he paused and leaned down to drop a gentle kiss on her mouth. “Got your slide show ready?”
She ran her hands up and down his sturdy back. “I didn’t get this part.”
“Take my word for it.” He nibbled on her lower lip. “It’s decent.”
“I’m sure.”
“Then we’re good to go.”
Her heart raced as he sought her entrance and slid partway in.
He put his lips next to her ear. “No duds, Twinkle Toes.” He eased in a little more. “I’ll wait for you. Take all the time you want.”
Breathing fast, she clutched his hips. Her theory was right! She knew this man from his head to his elegant toes and her body rejoiced at making the ultimate connection. “More,” she whispered.
“Gladly.” He pushed deep.
And she came, much to her surprise and even more to his. Gasping and crying out with wonder, she reveled in the sensuality of an orgasm that had required no thought and no effort.
His hot breath touched her ear. “That was too easy. We’re going for two.” And he began to pump, slowly at first, and then more vigorously.
“Oh, Mac!” She rose to meet him as the pressure of a second climax bore down on her.
His low chuckle was sex personified. “I knew it. I knew it would be like this. Come for me, Anastasia.”
And she did, her body spiraling out of control a second time.
“My turn.” Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes as he pounded into her. “Can you come again?”
“I don’t know.”
“I think you can.” He shifted his angle. “How’s that?”
“Good. So good. So . . .” And she surrendered to a third climax at the same moment he drove home one last time and shuddered in her arms, the pulsing of his orgasm keeping time with hers.
For several long minutes they lay there, panting and plastered together in the kind of sensual bliss created by a mutual climax, or in her case, three. Three. First-time sex with a man had never been even remotely like this.
He was the first to stir. “Don’t go away.” He aimed for her mouth and kissed her nose, instead.
“I just had a record three orgasms in a row. I can’t move from this spot, let alone leave the room.”
“Good. That was part of my evil plan.” He eased away from her and climbed out of the bed.
When he was gone she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. It had beams up there. Who knew? She’d been concentrating on the most incredible sexual experience of her life.
Maybe her theory had something to do with her response, but she thought maybe some of the credit belonged to Mac. Mac and his awesome equipment. His lovemaking hadn’t been fancy but it had been assured. He’d learned how to use what he’d been given to the best advantage.
He walked back into the bedroom and instantly she imagined a pencil drawing of his sketch-worthy body. But he’d been hesitant about letting her create that. He’d wanted to be okay with it, but she’d heard the reservations he hadn’t voiced. Paid models were one thing, but Mac was her friend and now her lover. She didn’t want to invade his privacy.
She propped her head on her hand and watched as he came over to the side of the bed and picked up the drawer he’d yanked out in his eagerness to find a condom. “Just to put your mind at ease, I won’t draw you if you’d rather I didn’t.”
He slid the drawer into place and glanced at her. “But you want to, right?”
“More than you can even guess. I’ve sketched male models before, but they were . . . I don’t know . . . anemic compared to you. You’re so vibrant.” And well endowed. “My fingers itch for a pencil.”
Smiling, he picked up his briefs and his jeans and started putting them on.
“Yikes, did I scare you with that comment? I promise I won’t draw a single line if you don’t want me to. Please don’t cover up. I know you’re a private guy, and I—”
“You didn’t scare me. I’m going out to get your sketch pad and pencils from your saddlebag.” He walked over to his closet and pulled out some flip-flips.
“Flip-flops? What kind of cowboy wears flip-flops?”
“I do.” He shoved his feet into them. “Shows off my elegant toes.” Laughing, he left the room
.
She flopped back on the bed. The guy was blowing her away. First he’d helped her get over her fear of horses. Then he’d given her the most satisfying sex ever. Now, even though he’d been clearly hesitant about having her create nude sketches, he was fetching her paper and pencils so she could begin.
When she’d asked him to teach her to ride, she’d had no clue the issues that she would be stirring up for him. She’d thought it was all about her fears, but he’d had a few of his own to conquer. Judging from the evidence—her presence in his bed and his willingness to pose nude for her—he seemed to have done a fair job of that. And she admired the hell out of him for it.
She sat up when the front door opened and his flip-flops slapped along the wood floor. Mac Foster in flip-flops. It made her laugh. She wondered if anybody knew about them besides her.
Sketchbook and pencils in hand, he walked in. “What’s so funny?”
“Your footwear. It cracks me up. Have you always worn them or is this something new?”
“Sort of old and new, I guess.” He handed over her drawing supplies and slid his feet out of the flip-flops. “I used to have some when I was a kid. Then I grew up to be a big, bad cowboy and wouldn’t be caught dead in anything but boots. But I have my own house, now, and so I got some to wear around here.”
“Do Vince and Travis know about this?”
“I don’t think so, but I don’t care if they do.” He unfastened his jeans. “I have some shorts and sweatpants, too. And gym shoes. I don’t feel the need to put on cowboy clothes all the time.”
“I’ll bet you’ve never worn shorts and flip-flops into town, though.”
“No. Whenever I’m in town I need to project an image that fits with Wild Horse Canyon Adventures. We’re selling a type of fantasy, and I get that.” He shoved his jeans down and stepped out of them.
And speaking of fantasies . . . the flexing muscles of his powerful thighs and calves made her catch her breath.
“Something wrong?”
“Not at all.” She shouldn’t be ogling him now. She’d have plenty of time to do that while he posed for her. When he stuck his thumbs in the waistband of his briefs in preparation for stripping those off, she forced herself to look up.
He was looking right back at her, a knowing smile on his face. “I’ve been watching you, too, you know.”
“You have?” She’d been too busy studying him to notice.
“I think you’re onto something with this visual appreciation business. I hope you’re planning to stay naked while you sketch.”
“Well, sure. There’s no reason to put on my clothes.”
“You’re not painting naked, but you’ll be drawing naked. Maybe now you’ll tell me what the difference is when you do that.”
She thought about the mug she’d brought to the stable. Maybe she’d subconsciously chosen it, after all. “My work’s more elemental, more passionate.”
“I figured.” He took off his briefs and he was already semi-aroused. “How do you want me?”
She laid her sketch pad aside. Some things were more important than drawing a picture. “Anyway I can get you.”
CHAPTER 21
Mac wasn’t about to argue. If Anastasia would rather make love than draw, he’d take it as a huge compliment, considering how much she enjoyed drawing. He was in no condition to be immortalized, anyway. The gleam in those hazel eyes had brought an instant reaction from his cock.
When she did finally record his naked self in her sketch pad, and he knew she would sooner or later, he certainly didn’t want it to be when he was stiff as a broom handle. On the other hand, if she was naked while she sketched, would he be able to control himself? Maybe if they’d had sex three or four times in a row prior to the modeling gig he’d be able to manage it.
At the moment, the prospect of crawling back into bed with her was the single most exciting thing he could imagine doing and his cock was well aware of that. The first round had taken the edge off, so now he could linger over the gift that was Anastasia. She scooted over and he climbed in next to her.
When she stretched out on her side facing him, he mirrored her position and lay there for a moment gazing into her eyes. Reaching over, he cupped her soft cheek. “I want to take it slower this time.”
Her lazy smile and her smoldering glance taunted him. “Good luck with that.” She trailed her fingertips across his chest and began a leisurely journey south.
He caught her wrist. “Uh-uh.”
“But I want—”
“Next time.” Still holding her wrist, he guided her to her back and moved over her.
Her eyebrows arched. “Next time?” Her other hand began exploring.
He’d love to have her touch him there, but not right now. He had plans. He caught her other wrist and drew her hands over her head. “After I fix you dinner tonight.”
“I’m coming to dinner?”
He chuckled. “You’re coming to dinner and you’re coming after dinner. At least you are if I have anything to say about it.”
“Oh, you have a great deal to say about it, Macario.”
“I like when you call me that.” He imprisoned both wrists with one hand and cradled her breast with the other.
“I like when you touch me like that.” She arched into his caress. “And when you get all macho and assertive.”
“You called the shots the first time.” He gently squeezed her plump breast as he leaned down and brushed his mouth over hers. “Now I get to be in charge.”
“I feel as if I could come right this minute.”
“Good to know.” Levering himself up so that he had room to maneuver, he slipped his free hand between her thighs and discovered that she was very hot and very wet. “I think we should do something about that, don’t you?”
She gasped as he thrust his fingers deep. “Maybe . . . maybe so.”
His mouth hovered over hers as he found her G-spot and began to stroke her there. “Does that work?”
Her soft moan told him all he needed to know.
“I’m going to find all the ways I can make you come,” he murmured as he increased the pace.
“This is . . . definitely . . . one.” Her breathing grew rough.
“Tonight I’ll see how you like the feel of my mouth.”
She whimpered. “Oh, Mac . . .”
“I want you to think about that while you’re sitting in your corner at Sadie’s.” When he felt her contract around his fingers, he bore down. “Think about my head between your thighs and my tongue driving you crazy.”
“You’re a devil, Mac Foster!” She lifted her hips and cried out as her climax rolled over his pumping fingers.
When she finally relaxed against the mattress, still shuddering from the aftershocks, he gave her a long, slow kiss with lots of tongue to remind her of what he’d said. Then he moved away long enough to grab a condom and roll it on.
Sliding into her was pure luxury. She was slick, hot, and totally open. A few orgasmic tremors remained, and that gentle squeezing motion was almost enough to make him explode. But he held back.
The first time he’d been here lust had set the pace, and it had been hard and fast. But this—gliding in and out in an easy rhythm that he imagined he could keep up forever—this was heaven. He gazed down at her and discovered she was looking up at him.
She seemed . . . dazzled. Maybe it was egotistical of him to think that, but it was the only way he could describe the light in her eyes. She looked happy, too. Making her happy had turned into one of his goals, and if having sex with him did that, he was one lucky son of a gun.
Her voice was breathless. “It’s never been like this.”
“For me, either.”
“Really?”
“No one’s like you.” He thrust slowly, not wanting the moment to end. But the pressure
was building.
She clutched his hips and began rising to meet him. “I’ve . . . always been different.” Her eyes darkened.
“That’s good.” He sucked in a breath and shoved deep, locking them together.
“This?” Her body quivered. “Or being different?”
“Both.” Looking into her eyes, he held very still. “Don’t move.”
But she did. Her first contraction became his tipping point, and gasping her name, he let go. Then he shuddered in reaction as her climax bathed him in such pleasure that he closed his eyes to savor it.
When he opened them again, he was greeted by the most beautiful smile. His world shifted. He’d never felt this close to a woman after making love to her. Gazing into eyes that sparkled in emerald and gold, he knew that something wonderful and dangerous had happened.
It had probably started months ago when she’d drawn his portrait for the first time. Ever since then he’d refused to believe he was falling in love because that was such a bad idea. It still wasn’t a particularly good idea, but that was irrelevant. The process was complete. He was in love with Anastasia Bickford.
She wound her arms around his neck. “That was spectacular.”
“Sure was from my vantage point. But you didn’t get your sketching done and now we both have places to go and things to do.”
“I seem to remember a dinner invitation.” She combed her fingers through his hair.
He thought of all the art those fingers had created and how lucky he was to have such a talented woman lying here looking up at him as if he’d hung the moon. “It still stands. I’m not as good a cook as Henry, so if I really wanted to treat you right, I’d take you to Sadie’s.”
“Except then we’d have all those other people around and I wouldn’t be able to give you sultry glances across the table.”
He laughed. “Is that what you’re planning to do?”
“I’m going to try. I can’t guarantee whether I’m any good at it.”
“You wouldn’t have to be. Just having you sitting at my kitchen table will be enough to do the trick.” Reluctantly he eased away from her, climbed out of bed and headed for the bathroom. “Be right back.”
Wild About the Wrangler Page 22
