Tempted by a Cowboy - Vicki Lewis Thompson Page 0,3

seemed to keep time with the rapid tattoo of the rain on the roof.

He chuckled. “I guarantee you do. I can see it in those baby blues. I wasn’t sure until this minute, when I finally got the courage to broach the subject, but we’re on the same page, you and I.”

“Okay, so I’m attracted to you, but acting on that attraction would be a really bad idea.”

He nodded. “You could be right. But that doesn’t keep me from wanting to kiss you.”

Oh. She should protest, should move back, out of the magic circle he’d created with his considerable charm. But she couldn’t seem to do that.

“I know you have reservations about getting involved with me.” He reached for her and cupped her face in his big hands.

She closed her eyes. That touch . . . so gentle, yet so sure. She’d imagined his touch for so long, and now she allowed herself to savor it.

“I respect that,” he murmured. “So for now, all I ask is for one kiss, to celebrate the arrival of a new foal.”

One kiss. One little kiss. Surely she could indulge herself a wee bit without compromising her principles. And they had successfully navigated Janis’s problem pregnancy. They both deserved a reward for that.

“One kiss.” His warm breath caressed her mouth, and his thumb brushed across her lower lip, urging her to open to him.

She didn’t need much urging. Here in the privacy of his barn, shrouded by rain and darkness, she could act out a fantasy months in the making. Yes. She’d kiss Fletcher Grayson.

And if this was the only liberty she ever allowed herself with this man, she would give it all she had.

Two

When Astrid parted her lips and issued a silent invitation for Fletch to invade that sweet mouth, a hot stab of lust nearly swamped his noble intentions. He beat back the red haze short-circuiting his brain. If he came on too strong now, he could ruin his chances in the future.

The effort of holding back made him tremble, but he managed to touch down gently. He couldn’t stop the groan that rumbled deep in his chest, though. His mouth fit hers with a kind of perfection he’d never known before.

As he settled in, the contact was so right that he became a little dizzy with the pleasure of it. The hitch in her breathing told him she wasn’t immune, either. That ate at his control, but he wouldn’t grab her and haul her into an empty stall mounded with fresh hay.

If he did that, they’d both be guilty of neglecting Janis and her foal. And he’d have broken his promise to give her one kiss, and one kiss only. He prided himself on being a man of his word.

Slowly, keeping himself in check, he began to explore her mouth with his tongue. She tasted like the coffee they’d had earlier, and the raspberry lifesavers he’d taken from his pocket to share with her. When he thrust his tongue deeper, she moaned.

That moan nearly undid him. Any woman who made that kind of sound would not object if he turned one kiss into two, or twenty. He sensed her surrender and fought not to take advantage of it. It was late. She was tired. Her defenses were down. Most important of all, Janis still needed them.

But her lips were so ripe, so ready. Before he realized what he was doing, he’d slid both hands from her cheeks to her collarbone. Unless he put those hands to work somewhere else, he’d go lower. He’d cup her breasts, and then he’d unbutton her blouse. After that, all bets would be off.

Until he lifted his mouth, though, he was still involved in that one kiss he’d asked for. So he deepened that kiss and went to work on the clip she’d used to fasten her hair. Taking down her golden, silky hair wasn’t the same as stripping away her clothes.

Or so he told himself. Yet his blood heated as his fingers encountered those soft strands and released them from the clasp. He let it drop and delved into those tresses with greedy hands. He’d wanted to release her hair and feel its softness ever since they’d met.

She’d always imprisoned it in some way, whether with a clip, a bandana, or a tie. He understood the practicality of that while she worked, but he’d longed for this—to stroke her unbound hair and let it sift through his fingers. Her hair made him think of sunbeams,