Page 20 of Cowboy Superstar

“For the mashed potatoes or the sex? Because it’s been a lot of years for both, although I can’t believe I’m admitting that.”

“Like how many years?”

Her cheeks heated, something she rarely had happen, and yet with him, it was turning into a regular occurrence.

Must be all that honesty …

“More than four. And if you tell anyone …”

“Why in the hell would I do that? Plus, after tonight … it’ll have been only a few minutes.”

Heat bloomed between Windsor’s legs, and she crossed one over the other to ease the need growing within her.

Bo noted her movement, and hunger flared in his aquamarine gaze. “How much more are you planning on eating?”

“I could be done.”

“Good.”

“What are we going to tell Marta? I don’t want to offend her.”

Bo looked at her with his eyebrows raised. “The woman has six kids. Trust me, I bet she gets it.”

Windsor laughed and fanned her face to stop the flush. “In that case, I’ll be upstairs, and you can make our excuses.”

He grinned. “Done.”

Windsor shoved back from the table and rose. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.” She sounded so proper and polite, which seemed at odds with what they were about to do. Because Windsor assumed—no, hoped—there would be nothing proper or polite about it.

“Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

It was like a line from a script, but it was perfect.

“Until then.”

She had to tear her gaze away from his and focus on her breathing and remember how to get back to the master suite in his giant house.

Thankfully, the stairway was impossible to miss, and the upstairs only had two rooms.

Once inside the master suite, Windsor shut the door behind her and leaned against one solid wood slab.

Her heart pounded, and her palms were sweaty against it.

“This is really happening,” she said to the empty room. “Finally.”

Thankful she had hardly touched her supper, she pushed off and crossed to the bathroom and connected dressing room. She needed to pull herself together because she felt like the virgin she hadn’t been on her wedding night.

Do I even remember how to do this?

It had been forever and a day.

Don’t worry; he knows how, a voice within her said.

With his looks, his résumé, and his charm, she knew he had no trouble with women. He was probably light-years more experienced in bed. Being who she was, Windsor had taken care with her reputation. She hadn’t been a saint, but she hadn’t been a slut either. Her father would’ve killed her if she’d had a reputation for being easy.

After her divorce, she hadn’t been a big fan of men for quite a while. Then came the question, did she still know how to do it?

Remember, it’s like riding a bike, except you’re riding a cowboy.