Tempted by a Cowboy Read online

  Michael’s chest tightened in warning. He should thank her and get the hell out of her life. She wasn’t the type for one-night stands in cheap motels, and she’d be pissed at him—and at herself—after he rolled down the road and left her feeling cheap. Used. Slutty.

  But she was no slut. He was the one who’d brought this on. “Over there,” he said, pointing to the side of the road. “Watch that ditch by the shoulder. It’s full of water.”

  She gazed out more intently, until she caught sight of the abandoned black pickup. “You want to get out?”

  “Need something in the glove box. Unless you want to drop me off and then keep on rolling home. Your call.”

  When she widened those green eyes he saw the proud, strong woman she’d been before trouble struck. She cleared her throat nervously. “This rain’s wearing me out. It’d be my luck to ram into something—which is not what I need after my meeting with the bank president this morning. And it’ll take me an extra half an hour to get home, the way this storm—”

  The shift lever vibrated in her grip when he placed his hand on top of hers. “You don’t need to justify anything to me,” he murmured. “But yeah, it’d be on my conscience if you wrecked before you got home. Wait here.”

  Michael threw open his door and dashed through the deep puddles and the deluge. He opened his truck, slipped a box from the glove compartment into his wet shirt pocket, and then hurried back to her car. He cussed when he whacked his head getting back inside. “Shit! Sorry, I—” He had to grab his hat before he could close the fricking door.

  “Ooh, that had to hurt.” Her eyes widened with his pain, and again he considered calling this off. She wasn’t that kind of woman. Integrity was written all over a face she hadn’t covered with makeup. Desperation made a furrow between her brows and his thumb had the urge to erase it.

  But when she rubbed his head…massaged the pain with fingertips that knew exactly the touch he craved, Michael’s breath rushed out. “Jesus, woman—”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt—”

  “If you don’t get us across the road to that motel, I’ll have to take you in your backseat,” he rasped. “And my jeans are so tight and wet I don’t think I can yank ’em down in this little space—”

  Her giggle filled the small car. It tickled his ears and made his heart bubble over, even though his cock felt like it was caught in a vice grip. Michael stared at her, yet he had to laugh, too. It was a damn sight better than making her cry. “You think this is funny, you little feist?” He didn’t miss the way her soft, rounded breasts shimmied as she kept rubbing his sore head.

  “The whole situation’s ridiculous! Well, isn’t it?” she asked between snickers.

  Her eyes took on a shine and her mouth muscles relaxed. He had no trouble imagining how wet and warm and willing she’d feel beneath him—long as he didn’t let their situation mean anything. Just sex. Just a wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am and he’d be on his way, knowing he’d gratified her as much as she’d satisfied him today. “You gonna drive us across that highway, or do I have to chase you there?”

  Her teeth caught on her lower lip and Michael’s insides clenched. He grabbed her head in his hands and kissed her hard, swallowing her gasp as he devoured her mouth. Her lips felt soft and sweet, and the lingering taste of her Coke coaxed his tongue inside her mouth to extend their kissing frenzy. God, she was eating him alive, and all he could think about was getting her naked. When she sighed with surrender, he pulled away. “Sorry, I—”

  “You are not.”

  Michael blinked. He suddenly needed much, much more than a kiss.

  She swiped at her window to defog it. “Hope there isn’t a semi coming,” she muttered, and then jerked him back against the seat when she floored the gas pedal. Seconds later she jerked him again when she jammed the brake at the parking rail that spanned the length of the old has-been motel. The place needed paint but he didn’t care.

  “Wait here,” he breathed, “because if you’re gone when I get back, I’ll chase you down and take you in the rain.”

  4

  Diana gripped the wheel. She was parked in front of the old no-tell motel she’d passed a hundred times—the place everybody rumored did more day business than tourist trade. She was going inside a room. With a man she’d met fifteen minutes ago. And she didn’t even know his name.

  It scared her and shocked her—but hot damn, she was feeling again! She gazed eagerly through the steamy windshield, watching for him to come out of the office. Better him fetching that key than her, because he wasn’t from around here—

  How do you know? You’ve been holed up so long, caretaking and then tending to funeral details—and this business with the bank.

  Yeah, a trainload of Chippendale dancers could’ve moved into the line shack on Seven Creeks, and she wouldn’t have known. This hottie with the see-through shirt and midnight hair could’ve lived around Wolf Point all his life and she just hadn’t run into him. Until today.

  This fateful fact suddenly seemed like destiny. Diana had no idea why, but she sensed her life was teetering on the brink of a huge improvement—

  Or a fiasco that’ll take you down so fast Hell will look like up. And that doesn’t touch what Pohlsen will do if he gets wind of this little…affair? Rendezvous?

  What was the current term for succumbing to a stranger? A perfect stranger. He might be called a Native American in politically correct circles, but in her imagination he was a hot-blooded Indian who intended to ride her bareback at a full gallop until they both collapsed. Diana squirmed, and when the decrepit storm door slammed behind him, she dashed through the rain to join him under the roof’s narrow overhang.

  He fumbled at unlocking their door. Number eight—her birth date and lucky number! How had he known?

  When she stepped inside he pushed her against the door to shut it. He was on her then: pressed his wet body into hers and found her mouth again, like he had in the car. Diana let him think he was having his way for a few moments. Soft moans escaped her as he kissed her senseless, again and again, with that relentless young mouth that still had so much of life to taste.

  When she couldn’t hold back anymore, she grabbed his shoulders and squeezed with more strength than she thought possible…nibbled and grimaced and groaned as she showed him her hunger and her need and her intentions to satisfy them. He was the perfect height. She stretched up on her toes…felt the raw strength in arms that closed around her…squirmed beneath the hand that grabbed her ass, which brought her into contact with an unmistakable ridge in his pants.

  Lord, it had been so long. What if she’d forgotten the moves? What if he lost interest once her clothes came off?

  Diana broke away with a gasp. “You probably think I’m—”

  “Thinking is the last thing I want to do.”

  “I’m some sort of sleaze, or, that I’ve got no pride, or—”

  “I really don’t care.” He grabbed her head between his long, strong hands to gaze unflinchingly into her eyes. “This’ll be clean and neat, get it? No woulda, coulda, shoulda afterwards. I won’t promise to call you, and you won’t be waiting for me to. Right?”

  Diana swallowed, eyes wide.

  “Right?” he repeated. “No strings, or I won’t play.”

  She nodded quickly. Her body got hot and bothered inside her cold, wet clothes. Her mind raced over the ramifications of this situation, but she didn’t want to walk away. Just this once she’d give in to a fantasy most women only dreamed of, with a man like she’d never believed she could attract. “By the way, my name is—”

  That long dark finger silenced her. “No names.”

  This thought barely had time to register before he was kissing her again. His predatory lips left no doubt he’d be fucking her rather than making love.

  Again he flattened her against the hard door with his hot, damp body but this time his kiss felt more sensual: still ruthless, far as the price he made her pay with her pride, yet Diana�
��s body quivered as his lips did their business. He held her head in his hands…speared his fingers through her damp hair and angled his face to get the rest of her resistance out of his way. Not that she had any.

  As Diana melted against him, he fumbled with the buttons of her shirt. He scooped her breasts out of her bra and she sucked air, still caught beneath his lips and his solid body. His palms rasped her nipples as he squeezed and fondled and massaged, and all she could do was wiggle beneath him helplessly. He held her relentlessly against the door, the wolf toying with his tender prey. And when had surrender ever felt so sweet and so dirty?

  Her fingers found the leather thong around his hair and untied it. This man’s heavy mane sent a primitive thrill through her: under the wetness of the top layer her palms met his smooth, warm neck. On to his shirt snaps she moved, caressing his chest after she popped each one.

  Impatient, he jerked his shirt from his jeans and then yanked it off. His chest was smooth and firm, punctuated by two dark nipples and an enticing little ditch that ran between his pecs. He yanked her shirt open, too, gazing hungrily at her bared breasts. Buttons pinged against the tile floor. As he unfastened her bra, his dark eyes riveted on hers. “If I do anything that hurts you, holler,” he breathed. “Not my intention to inflict pain. I just—can’t hold back much longer.”

  When had a man ever told her that? And why was this man saying it? She didn’t waste time pondering such mysteries. Brazenly holding his gaze, Diana peeled off her wet shirt and jeans.

  He met her silent bet and upped the ante: struggled with his wet zipper and then revealed red stretch skivvies that bulged indecently with his need. When he slid the box from his pocket and removed a foil square, Diana blinked.

  “I may be a dangerous man to meet in a roadside cafe,” he purred like a puma, “but this way, you won’t regret me when I’m gone, sugar.”

  Sugar, he’d whispered. The coolest—hottest—endearment she’d ever heard. “Better safe than sorry. It’s been a while since I had to think about—”

  “No personal information.” He ripped the foil between his teeth. “Just here and now. Down and dirty. You with me?”

  Why did his words sound so liberating? She knew damn well she’d still be his prisoner weeks from now—and who knew where she’d be living by then, if the bank took the ranch? It was a blessing, this “here and now” a stranger mapped out for her. Easy to agree with.

  He scooped himself from his skivvies. Put his fist at the end of his long, thick cock, to slowly shove it between his fingers and thumb. It pointed at her in black latex then, looking unspeakably wicked. “You want that?”

  She nodded mutely, engulfed by need and curiosity.

  “Bend over the end of the bed. Brace yourself.”

  Trembling, Diana obeyed. She got only one foot out of her jeans before he slapped her ass and waddled them into position with their pants still around their ankles. As she bent at the waist he prodded her, begging for entry. She reached between her quaking legs to guide him and felt hot liquid trickling over her fingers. Diana cried out as he shoved himself inside her. He thrust again, his breath hissing between his clenched teeth—

  And then he stopped. Gripped her hips and pressed his tip against her deepest inside wall. He held it there until her muscles wrapped tightly around him, welcoming his intrusion…throbbing with the need to move.

  “Give it to me!” she rasped. “Damn it, if you’re going to destroy me, don’t stop now!”

  He grabbed her and rocked in and out, fast and hard. She’d never known a man who wanted it so badly, but then, she’d been pretty innocent when she married Garrison. She shut images of her husband out of her mind…gave herself over to sensations that might take her over an edge she wouldn’t come back from. When her spasms began, low and slow, it was already too late to do anything but surrender.

  Her cries echoed in the small, shabby room while her hips went crazy. Behind her, the warrior rode hellbent with his raven hair fluttering around his shoulders. He leaned back farther—farther—until he grimaced and cut loose. For long moments they stood panting, still joined, lost in their insanity. Diana fell forward on the bed and he landed alongside her.

  “Holy shit!” he rasped. “Holy shit, woman!”

  Diana grinned giddily into the chenille bedspread. To this young stud, she probably appeared as faded and worn as this old motel furniture, yet she’d never heard more exuberant praise from a lover. She’d made him work for it, too. Left him breathless. And she had no sense that he’d get up or go away any time soon.

  Maybe I haven’t lost it, if I turned on a total stranger this way, she thought as she drifted sweetly into oblivion.

  5

  Michael paused in the bathroom doorway with the wet washrag in his hand. She was still sprawled at the bottom of the bed with her jeans and panties at half-mast on one shapely leg. Totally relaxed. Totally sexy. When she met his gaze, she shifted self-consciously.

  “Hold still. I’ll wipe you off.”

  Her eyes…God, those green eyes that looked into his like a little lost dog’s. So trusting. So sweet. She obediently lay still, letting him tug off the wet denim and white cotton panties before he turned her on her back. The bed creaked, and the ditch in its middle became more pronounced, yet he refused to feel cheap about this encounter. He’d taken this woman out of sheer lust and the selfish need to vent his frustrations, but other emotions pulsed in his chest now.

  He lifted her leg to stroke her pale skin with the washcloth. She sucked air when he touched her sensitive inner flesh, but she didn’t try to break free. Just opened herself, as though she felt too weak or too needy to protest his intimate attention.

  Michael cleared his throat. “You got really hot and juicy. Because none of this slickum was mine.”

  “You made me that way. Bad boy.”

  He snickered. “Hardly a boy.”

  “What are you? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?”

  He laughed, watching her coarse curls swirl around the washcloth as he wiped her deep pink petals. “Twenty-nine going on sixty. Old enough to know better about seducing a stranger, but still young enough to pull it off.”

  “Oh, don’t pull it off!” she teased. “If you keep wiping me this way, I’ll want it again. Real soon.”

  He glanced up, surprised at her playful tone. Her dark blond hair dangled in crushed waves around her pixie grin, and it did crazy things to him. “You like me rubbing you here?”

  “Haven’t you noticed I’m not getting any drier?”

  When Michael ran a fingertip around the rim of her slit, her hips bucked. She wasn’t nearly finished, was she? Might be the type to have one climax after another—and who was he to deny her that? The rain still pelted the roof, so it wasn’t like they were going anywhere.

  “Ohhhhh.” She closed her eyes against a sensation that made her body writhe like a tigress, all sleek and smooth and so damn provocative he had to have more himself. “I feel all loose and rubbery and relaxed,” she purred. “I was worried that you’d lose interest when I got naked, because—well, I haven’t taken the best care of myself for the past several months. I’ve been—”

  Her fingertips fluttered to her lips. “Sorry. No personal information, right? If I were smart, I’d just lie here and let you think I wasn’t all washed off yet.”

  To tease her—or was it himself he tantalized?—Michael stood at the foot of the bed looking down the length of her body. He kicked aside their jeans and stood where she could give him the same kind of looking-over he indulged in. And damned if her gaze wasn’t getting a rise out of him.

  Michael focused on her face, holding her gaze while his hand slipped between her legs again. Slowly, slyly, he rubbed the coarse curls in a circle, around and around the damp, deep pink lips that so badly wanted his attention. But he denied her. Chuckled when she shifted her hips so his fingertips found her warm moisture.

  “Horny little thing, aren’tcha?” he whispered. Not that he could claim
anything different: his cock was half-hard and throbbing again.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No way! Nothing on this earth sexier than a woman who wants it—and who goes after what she wants.”

  “If I’d known I was going to be—well, I’d have shaved my legs,” she murmured. “It’s been a long while since I had a reason.”

  “Not to worry,” he replied smoothly. “Your legs have more texture…more friction. And that’s not a bad thing.” He grinned, feeling lazy and indulgent. “It tells me you’re not afraid to be your natural self—that you don’t rely on spas and cosmetics and mirrors to define yourself. You are who you are. And who you are is pretty damn hot, from where I stand.”

  With that, Michael inserted his third finger. Watched her rise with need as her eyes closed. He was amazing himself with this sort of chatter, because ordinarily he didn’t wax too philosophical with a partner—nor was he bullshitting this one for what he wanted from her. Whoever she was, she’d laid it all out on the tacky, squeaky bed without apology or pretense. What he saw was what he got.

  When her breath became an uneven singsong, he upped the speed and stepped between her thighs. His cock pointed at the ceiling, red and ready, but Michael had other plans: first he plugged her with his thumb, thrusting deep and hard until her cries drove him half nuts. She was squirming, totally under his control as the bed rocked and creaked beneath her. Smiling, Michael knelt to put his lips where his fingers had been.

  She convulsed, eyes wide and mouth open. When her hands came at him, he caught her hips, refusing to let up—bracing for a slap. But no! She grabbed his head! Laced her fingers into his hair and thrust against his tongue, begging for more—yet begging for mercy. “Please…please just—oh, don’t stop! I need it right there. And harder!”