Page 39 of Pure Temptation in Cowboy Boots

“A friend of mine in college had a male stripper for her twenty-first birthday party. He was very good.”

“I’m not a male stripper!”

“Your body is even nicer than his.” She rubbed the wineglass slowly back and forth across her lower lip. Then she circled the rim with her tongue and licked an imaginary drop off the side of the glass. She turned to him with a smile. “I’ll make it worth your while, cowboy.”

He wanted to laugh and make light of her blatant attempt to remind him of what she’d accomplished the other night. But the laughter stuck in his throat as he gazed helplessly at her mouth and remembered. With that gesture of her pink tongue moving over the wineglass, she probably could have persuaded him to drink arsenic.

He settled for drinking the wine she’d poured. Walking over to the nightstand, he picked up his glass and drained it. He set down the empty glass, took off his watch and laid it next to the glass. Then he emptied the condoms out of his pocket and put those on the table, too.

She glanced at them and back at him. “I have some, you know.”

“How did you know what size?”

“I had a good idea.”

He remembered her hands on him, her mouth taking him in, and agreed silently that yes, she probably did know.

“So, will you strip for me, Mac?”

He gazed at her. “Swear to me you’ll never tell anyone,” he said as a last attempt at self-preservation.

“I swear on the tomb of old King Tut, take a willow switch to my butt.”

That crazy rhyme they’d made up as kids took on erotic meaning when spoken by a sexy wench reclining in her red velvet and white satin room of seduction. “Is that a suggestion?”

“Not exactly. I haven’t done much research into spanking fantasies.” She picked up a remote control and pushed a button. The volume of the music increased a fraction, the beat becoming more insistent. “Now do it, MacDougal. Make me squirm.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Tess tried to look composed as she lay against the pillows and waited for Mac to undress, but inside she was churning with anticipation. He had no idea what a beautiful body he had, and in the past she hadn’t allowed herself to admire it much, either. But that was then. This was now.

He’d worn a long-sleeved western shirt even though it was summer. Like most cowboys, he kept mostly long-sleeved shirts in his closet, because they’d protect his arms from whipping branches on a wild cross-country ride. If he got too hot, he’d roll the sleeves back, but Mac had come to her tonight in dress mode, the sleeves snapped at his wrists.

Slowly, he unsnapped them, his habitual movements executed with tantalizing care. Her heartbeat quickened. He was really going to do this for her.

She sipped her wine as he started on the top fastener of his shirt. Keeping his gaze on her, he made his way gradually down the row. Each soft pop of a snap was like the flare of a match lighting a new fuse. She hungered for each snap to release, each section of newly exposed skin.

He languidly pulled the shirt from his jeans so it hung open. She waited for him to take it off. Memories flashed by, more potent than she’d realized, of Mac stripping off his T-shirt and using it to mop his face when he’d helped her parents paint their house one summer, of Mac lying bare-chested beside the river one hot afternoon, his fishing pole anchored in the sand, his hat over his eyes.

She’d enjoyed the view then — she wanted it now. Instead, as if to gently torture her, he walked over to a chair and sat down. He drew off one boot with great deliberation, and then the other, all the while keeping his attention on her. His socks followed.

He’s undressing because he’s going to make love to me. The thought washed over her like a caress, moistening her with need.

He stood and walked toward her. “I’ve decided two can play this game.”

“You have?” Her voice was breathy, not at all the way she normally sounded.

“You did a good job on the phone. If you unhook your bra for me now, I can watch.”

She trembled. Darkness had protected her during their first encounter, distance and a telephone line the second. She wanted to be bold and daring this time, to experience the wonders she’d only read about. Mac was asking her to do that.

Following his lead, she drank the rest of her wine and set the empty glass on the table next to his.

“And do it slow,” he murmured.

Heart pounding, she leaned back against the pillows and eased her fingers over the clasp holding the silken cups. Then she waited as he took off his shirt and she could finally admire his sculpted torso. With her eyes she traced the scar on his shoulder from a scrape with barbed wire, another on his arm from a run-in with a bull. The scars only made him seem more masculine.

He was magnificent. No wonder she’d loved wrestling with him when they were teenagers. She wanted to do more than that now.