Page 23 of Cowboy Superstar

“In that case”—she rocked against the hard ridge in his pants—“I’m going to start right now.”

CHAPTER 13

Windsor didn’t know what to make of Silas Bohannon. He seemed too good to be true. But if that were the case, she’d find out sooner or later. And right now, she was much more interested in everything he had to give.

He was gorgeous. Even she wasn’t immune to his shaggy dark blond locks that she buried her fingers in or his piercing eyes the color of jewels that caressed her face.

His words had melted some of the ice that had formed around her heart, but the combination of those words, his body, and his face had melted her panties.

His shoulders were broad and hard, like the ridge in his pants, which she wasn’t too proud to dry-hump like a teenager.

Something about him set her at ease and made her feel like she was completely safe with him. She didn’t need to keep a lid on her inhibitions. She could just … let go.

His fingers curled into her ass, gripping and kneading it through the denim. Windsor couldn’t wait to have those strong, capable hands on her skin. As the thought entered her mind, he lifted her again, standing with her ass cupped in his hands, before spinning and tossing her into the center of the giant bed.

“Wha—” she said as she landed softly on the pillow-like surface.

“Too many clothes on, sweetheart.”

His fingers went to the button of his shirt, and she went silent, levering up on her elbows and blowing hair out of her face so she could fully appreciate the show that was coming.

She would probably not tell him she’d bought the movie on DVD where he stripped in front of the camera … and she’d watched that particular scene over and over again.

His body is like art … and I’m an art lover. So what?

As the yellow-and-brown flannel shirt parted, instead of his golden skin, she saw a ribbed white tank top, stretched wide by his well-developed pecs. It hugged him in all the right places, and yet she impatiently waited for him to toss the flannel to the floor and strip off his shirt.

“Hot damn …” she whispered. Better than the movie … way better …

At her words, his gaze intensified, and matching heat flared between her legs.

He didn’t look at the camera like that.

“Can I …” She paused when he reached for the button on his black pants.

“Can you what?”

“Never mind. Continue …”

His smile, full of humor, lit his gaze to new levels of sexy.

“By all means”—she waved him on—“carry on. My apologies for the interruption.”

“Can you what?” he repeated, taking a step toward her.

Windsor swallowed, but her mouth was dry because her eyes got stuck on those V-lines that disappeared beneath the pants he was currently unbuttoning.

“Touch.” The word came out like she’d forgotten what it meant.

His smile tugged his cheeks wider. “You like what you see?”

She nodded silently, but with appreciation.

“I figured you’d be blasé about abs by now.”

She shook her head. “Not about yours.”

His thick pecs bounced a little as he chuckled and took another step toward the end of the bed. “You can touch anything you want—real soon.”