Page 45 of Wild and Wanted

Clay groaned and when she squeezed him, he sucked in air through clenched teeth, his hand pressing over the top of hers, flattening it against his solid outline.

Glancing at him, she asked, ‘Doesn’t that hurt?’ He was so hard and had been that way for a long time now – was that some kind of… strangulation risk?

He grimaced. ‘I’ll live.’

It didn’t sound terribly convincing but he ought to know, right? Returning her attention to their hands, she went to explore further but his fingers tightened around hers, preventing any movement.

She sought his eyes, finding them squeezed shut. ‘Can I…’ Her voice drifted away not sure she could say the words out loud now he was clearly rebuffing her advances.

‘Maybe next time,’ he muttered, his voice rough.

Their eyes met as his finally opened and he smiled at her gently and relaxed his hand a little. ‘I’m hanging on by a thread, Stevie girl. I almost blew my load in my jeans just now and I’m still not sure that won’t happen if I let you have your way down there.’

Stevie supposed she was meant to feel turned off by his admission but if he thought the idea of her being responsible for his lack of control – this big, bad cowboy who broke wild horses for a living – was a turn-off, then he was wrong.

She, Stephanie Everhart – super virgin – was pushing him, Clay Calhoun – highly experienced lover of women – to blow his load. In his boxers. Stevie had never felt more buzzed in her life. Not even those times on stage with Yolly when they’d been in the zone, and they’d known through their weird sister telepathy that the audience was theirs.

Reluctantly removing her hand to his chest, she smiled down at him. ‘You did, huh?’

He hooted out a laugh as his fingers tangled in her hair again. ‘Oh God, I’ve created a monster, haven’t I?’

Stevie grinned. He certainly had – a very impatient one. ‘I don’t mind, you know. If you…’ Gah, was she really going to say this word? She cleared her throat but chickened out. ‘C… come,’ she said instead, although even that felt foreign sliding from her mouth. ‘Too quickly.’

He laughed again, although Stevie wasn’t sure if that was due to her eagerness or the way she’d fumbled the words. ‘Yeah, well, I do. Clay Calhoun is known for his stamina and, as your teacher, my ego insists on nothing less.’

Her teacher. The thought was utterly titillating. He was her teacher and she was his willing student but… ‘Time’s a tickin’, Clay.’

The big hunk of cowboy merely grinned. ‘And anticipation makes everything better. I have a lot more planned for you.’

Stevie wanted to say anticipation was overrated but her abs betrayed her, tightening at the promise in his eyes.

Lordy.

‘Like what?’ she demanded, hoping she didn’t sound as breathless as she felt.

‘Like kissing you a helluva lot more. Everywhere. All over.’

His eyes drifted south then, to the gape of her shirt, the hand that had been toying in her hair, lowered, the back of his knuckles brushing the exposed curve of her breast, and Stevie shivered at the touch, her nipples turning hard as nickels.

‘Like going down on you,’ he murmured as he raised his gaze to hers and locked. ‘Showing you how much this cowboy likes to eat.’

The image of that – him going down on her – slammed into her brain with maximum impact, squeezing through muscles deep and low, trapping her breath in her throat.

‘I want it so that when we finally fuck,’ he murmured, his thumb stroking over a nipple as he rolled the F word around his tongue, ‘you want me beyond all reason.’

Stevie swallowed. Hard. ‘I already do.’

And that was the truth of it. Maybe a more experienced woman would have kept it to herself but Stevie had always worn her heart on her sleeve. Even knowing that this thing could only end one way – her leaving and him staying – knowing that cliff edge was coming, it was still the truth. And she wanted to sail right off that cliff Thelma and Louise style.

With clear eyes and a full heart.

Who knew, if nothing else she might get some more songs out it. She’d already written one, and it had certainly worked for Taylor Swift.

Withdrawing his hand from her breasts, he smiled. ‘Trust me on this.’

Stevie almost whimpered at the loss of his caress but there was a stubborn set to his jaw and a gleam of determination in his eyes, both of which she’d seen that day on the back of Electra. He’d been relentless in his pursuit of her submission and she had no doubt he’d apply the same level of willpower to her which, while frustrating, also promised to be a veritable smorgasbord of sexual awakening.

Hopefully she wouldn’t die of sexual frustration along the way.