Second Chance Cowboy

Second Chance
Cowboy

2013 Rhonda Lee Carver

Copyright © 2013 by Rhonda Lee
Carver

All rights reserved.

Published at Smashwords

Published in the United
States

CARLY TAYLOR SNUGGLED closer to the
warmth behind her as a muscular arm curled possessively around her
waist and one powerful leg draped easily over the curve of her
smooth calf.

The second leg, nestled between her
inner thighs, pressed against her moist, sensitive core. Heat oozed
from the pit of her stomach, spreading downward like honey and
settling in her most intimate part.

It reminded her of a long lost
feeling—one that she’d missed, but had stored into a forbidden area
of her mind. Every now and again, she got a craving to ride a
cowboy, to have a man deep within...

The thought was misplaced when
something hard stirred against her bare bottom. Granite, warm and
smooth...and easing against her moist folds as if searching for
home.

Carly purred and circled her hips,
rubbing the steely length with her ass in silent invitation. Her
deep, needful moan spliced the silence.

She ached to have him
inside—

“
Good morning,
sweetheart.”

Carly froze. She knew that voice.
Knew it well
. Husky, rich, laced with a Texas drawl. Her
heart pounded and her stomach did somersaults.

Shit! What had she done?

Last night’s events wriggled into her
consciousness, plowing through her anesthetized, hungover brain.
She forced herself to face her actions,
one-by-grueling-one.

Carly remembered feeling sorry for
herself.

Her mind journeyed to the night
before…

She’d planned a quiet evening in front
of the tube with a chick flick and a good vintage wine. The remote
control had dropped to the floor, and as she reached for it, she
came across something she’d hidden there two years before and had
intentionally forgotten it.
The box.

Opening the flowered container had
been a big mistake. The box was like a treasure chest containing
mementoes from the past—pictures of her and Chance, a locket he’d
given her that had belonged to his mother, and movie stubs from
their first show together. The memories had sparked an ache deep in
her chest. She’d tried to drive the pain away, but there were some
things a person could never forget.

As she’d thumbed down memory lane, her
self-pity had grown to enormous magnitude. Wallowing in emotion
wasn’t something she did often, but this one time she hadn’t had
the strength to fight the demons. So, she’d drank a glass—
or
two, maybe three, a bottle—
of wine.

Stopping after the first would’ve been
enough if all she’d wanted was a good buzz. Not only had she
overshot her intention, but she’d descended into oblivion and
lowered to stupid actions.
Real stupid.

Somewhere along her journey to
insensibility, she’d made a phone call—six numbers to insanity. She
hadn’t planned a booty-call, yet with the proof poking her, that’s
how it seemed to have turned out.

“
Cat got your tongue?” The
whisper tickled her ear and all she could do was gulp a mouthful of
air. He should have just licked her from thigh to shoulder, because
each time he spoke, it evoked the same slice of heaven.

Stay on track,
Carly
.

She couldn’t muster up the gumption to
turn around and face the imp. She counted to ten...backward,
forward, upside down. No help.

Out of all the men in Shelby, how
could she have picked him, her
husband,
to sleep
with!

His hand clung to the curve of her
thigh and the tenderness of his touch seeped inside her skin. Carly
wanted to pull away, but God help her, revulsion was the last thing
her body experienced. He’d made love to her thoroughly, all through
the night. Now her treacherous body longed to have him
again.

Her mind was convinced she’d made a
mistake. However, it took a good ten seconds to convince her heated
core that she wasn’t going for another helping. No matter how good
his hands felt along the contour of her hip, she wasn’t succumbing
to the emotion. They’d been there—done the relationship bit—and it
hadn’t worked.

With that thought in mind, she took a
deep breath and moved off the bed, pulling the red silk sheet along
with her. She clutched the soft shiny material to her body as if it
were her lifeline. It seemed pointless to hide her nakedness
considering he knew, probably with eyes closed, every inch of her.
After all, he’d discovered her like a treasure. A stinging
sensation burned her cheeks.

Tilting her chin in determination, she
turned. Chance Taylor, all six feet, two-hundred pounds of ribbed
muscle and beautiful flesh was lying in her queen-sized
bed.

A smug smile kinked one corner of his
mouth and her muscles quivered. He moved a knee and her gaze slid
to his stiffy positioned against his stomach. Damn the man. He
could at least pretend he wasn’t showing off his package…and what a
nice package it was.

Feeling her cheeks flush deeper, she
turned away. A fraction of shame swept through her. She’d had sex,
sultry mind-blowing sex, in her childhood room. This was where she
used to have tea parties with her dolls. Where she’d play dress up.
Where as a teenager, she’d listen to the music too loud and hang
posters of boy bands. And last night, she’d christened her room as
an adult.

Thank goodness her father had gone to
the cattle auction for the weekend. Harry would have jumped to the
hopeful conclusion that her and Chance were getting back together.
Harry McAllister was a huge fan of the cocky man sitting in her
bed.

Chance’s usual conceited smile was in
place.

He was a perfect specimen of a virile
man. Not an ounce of fat existed on his lean frame. His hair,
shorter now than when they were together, was as dark as coal with
only a few streaks of silver, which enhanced his looks instead of
aging him. His penetrating green eyes managed to set her on fire,
every time.

Her gaze sank to his erection of its
own accord. He saluted her, as if teasing her. She knew the man had
never-fail stamina. Dragging her attention back to his face, she
focused on the thin white scar on his forehead to keep from staring
at his hard body.

Parting her lips, she wanted to say
something, but couldn’t get her voice to work.

“
It’s too late to get all
bashful now, sweetheart.”

Chance’s voice tormented her sensitive
nerves, and tore open every memory of the fervor they shared during
the night. She’d called out his name repeatedly during their
lovemaking. Her legs stretched in angles she didn’t think possible.
The heat of her blush burned its way from her dark hair roots to
her red-painted toenails.

A warning shot off like the crack of a
gun inside her head. Chance equaled uncontrollable, raw desire. She
fought the reckless screaming inside her mind that urged her to
pluck what was there for the taking. She searched her emotions for
the downsides to Chance’s love.

His masculinity was her weakness. She
wanted to fall into his arms and allow his powerful energy to
consume. Being with Chance came with a price and she wasn’t willing
to pay. He wanted her to move on, to forget their painful past, but
Carly owned her heartache. She desperately wanted to hold on to it.
It was much easier to harbor guilt than face the truth.

“
Look, Chance,” she started
and stopped. She scrambled for the right words. “We made—no,
I
made a mistake in calling you last night. If I hadn’t
called you then this—” She glanced at his irresistible form again.
Bad idea
. “This wouldn’t have happened.”

Chance smoothed his hand over his
disheveled hair. He showed no sign that her words reached or moved
him. His attention dropped to the sheet clasped to her body and her
mouth went dry. A tingly sensation swirled her nipples. She didn’t
need a mirror to know they peaked like pearls.

His tongue slipped out and moistened
his bottom lip as his sugary gaze glided over her in a visual
caress. He held his jade stare at the apex of her thighs and she
resisted the urge to squirm. His look of confidence and command
triggered naughty thoughts inside her.

The phone on the bedside table rang
and Carly jerked. The shrill ring was a cold dousing to her desire.
She knew she should answer it. Her mind commanded her to, but her
feet wouldn’t move. She stood statue-still, her breathing loud in
her ears.

The sound stopped. She told herself it
was the time for closure; destroy any remaining connection between
them.

“
I drank a little wine,
maybe more than I needed, and I felt a bit lonely. I only meant to
call you and....” She raked her fingers through her tangled hair.
“I don’t know why I needed to talk to you.” She sighed.
Where
was the self-confident Carly?
“I allowed you to come over but
it wasn’t an invitation into my bed.”

Chance propped a shoulder against the
sleek black headboard and pinned her with his intense gaze. Carly
squirmed under his penetrating stare. Butterfly wings tickled the
inside of her stomach.

“
Don’t freak out, Carly.
We’re married. Married people have sex.”

Her gut clenched. His calm words and
the casual disposition of his body trickled enjoyment. He seemed so
nonchalant about the situation, and it made her furious. It always
did. This was his mode of operation. He was calm, cool, collected,
even in a position where some level of anxiety was
courteous.

“
Not two people separated
for two years. And especially not when divorce papers were filed.
You signed the papers, remember? The divorce is final this
morning.”

He winced.

There, she’d said the chilling “D”
word aloud.
Divorce.

His expression turned cold. Had he
forgotten? She’d expected to get some sort of pleasure out of
saying the word, but it wasn’t delight that clasped her chest. She
wasn’t quite sure how she felt.

“
Okay, Carly. I’ll let you
use alcohol as an excuse for the first time we hit the sheets,
although we both know you were sober when I walked through your
door. What about the second and third, or the fourth and fifth
time?” His thick eyebrow popped up in silent accusation. “You
weren’t thinking divorce when your legs straddled me.”

Carly opened her mouth, and
immediately snapped it shut. She had no defense. There were no
justifications for last night, so why try? She’d only embarrass
herself more.

When he’d shown up at
booty-call-midnight, the part of her brain housing logical
reasoning didn’t exist and the only thing she’d cared about was
satisfaction.

Once he’d gotten near, she was lost in
his magnetism. The draw was like silver chains holding her, making
her powerless to run like hell. His allure beckoned her to him like
a magnet to metal. He’d always held an invisible force over her
emotions. Being alone in the same room with him after years of
sexual dehydration had been an erotic wreck waiting to
happen.