Wild About the Wrangler (20 page)

He'd splurged on a massive four-poster and it dominated the small room. At times he'd wondered why he'd felt the need to buy it. The reason had just walked in.

She surveyed the room. “Looks like you refinished the bedroom floor, first.”

“Had to before I could bring in the bed.”

“And my, what a big bed you have.” Her voice sounded husky.

“The better to make love to you.” Taking her other hand, he turned her to face him. He still couldn't believe she was here. Her back was to the window, so the golden light surrounding her made her seem not quite of this earth. “You're beautiful.”

“I could say the same about you.”

“Men aren't beautiful.”

“That's where you're wrong.” Her gaze traveled over him as if cataloging every detail.

Knowing her, she probably was. He'd finally figured out that she had a photographic memory. The pictures on her phone were just for backup, but she could study something and sketch it exactly later on.

Slipping her hands free, she stepped closer and traced the line of snaps down the front of his shirt. “Mac, I want . . . Will you let me undress you?”

“You bet.” He slid both hands under the hem of her T-shirt and caressed the warm, silky skin at the small of her back. “I fully intend to return the favor.”

“And you can do that when I'm finished. But I've sketched you so many times and I always wanted . . . I want to see you, really
see
you.”

He considered the implications of what she'd just said. “Are you thinking you'll do a sketch of me later?”

“I might. Would you mind?”

He tried to sort through his feelings. “I'm flattered and everything, but . . . what would you do with it?”

“It would be just for me. Except if you want to take a look at it, of course.”

“I'm not sure if I'd want to or not.” He hadn't thought about this aspect. Of course she'd want to draw him naked. Not right this minute, but eventually. She'd probably taken a class in that kind of art.

All right, then. He was already making himself vulnerable in so many ways just by bringing her into his house and his bedroom. If she wanted to memorize his naked body and draw a picture of it, so what? Letting go of her, he sat on the edge of the bed. “I can at least take off my boots.”

“No, I want to do that, too. I want to do all of it.” She dropped to her knees in front of him. “This is part of my fantasy, revealing you a little at a time so I can concentrate on the details instead of suddenly being confronted with you in all your glory.”

He laughed. “Anastasia, I'm an ordinary guy. I guarantee there's not a lot of glory going on under my clothes.”

“That's what you think.” She grabbed the heel of his boot and tugged it off. Then she pulled off his sock. “See there? Glorious toes.”

“Good Lord. If you're impressed with my toes, then I can't wait to find out what you think of my—”

“Exactly.” She smiled up at him. “I'm saving that for last.”

A
nastasia felt like a kid unwrapping a birthday present. She pulled off his other boot and sock. “I've never seen your bare feet before. They're quite elegant.”

Mac braced his hands on his knees and studied her, his expression bewildered. “I'm glad to hear you like my feet, but couldn't you admire them later?”

“I could. That's how it's gone in the past.” She cupped his heel and began a slow massage of his foot. “But I'm hoping this time with you will be different. Better. I want to learn about your body
before
we make love.”

“You'll learn quite a lot about it during. Just sayin'.”

“Not your feet.”

“Well, no. But there they are.” He gestured toward his feet. “You've investigated them. I promise the rest of me will be fully involved. Certain parts more than others, but pretty much all of me will make contact.”

She switched to his other foot. “And that's when you'll be trying to give me an orgasm, right?”

He swallowed. “That's the general idea.”

“See, at that point, I'll be too distracted to take proper visual notice of your body. I'll be too involved with the tactile experience we're having touching and stroking each other. I'll be busy responding to whatever you're doing, especially when you start thrusting.”

“Uh . . .” He seemed a little shell-shocked by her statement.

“But we can forget my plan if you're desperate.”

He cleared his throat. “I'm trying not to be.”

“You look desperate, though.”

“The thing is, nobody's ever massaged my feet and now we're discussing orgasms and stroking and thrusting, and . . . Yeah, I'm getting a little desperate.”

She was at a good angle to see what he was talking about. “Then why don't I unfasten your jeans?”

“Good idea. While you're doing that I'll unsnap my shirt. Speed things up a little.”

“I guess you can.” She unbuckled his belt. “But I'll bet the end result won't be as good if you take your clothes off too fast.”

“How do you know?” His voice sounded as tight as the denim stretched across his crotch.

“I don't.” Unfastening the metal button at his waist, she pulled down the zipper. Oh, my. Now she wondered if
she'd
be able to follow the plan. Underneath his cotton briefs it was obvious that he was richly endowed. “All I've experienced is tearing off each other's clothes and then going at it.”

He sucked in a breath. “Uh-huh.” He looked quite ready for that program.

“I'm a very visual person.”

“I'm aware of that.”

“If I take time to look at you first, then the visual of your naked body will add to the pleasure of having sex with you. I won't be going into it blind, so to speak. At least that's my theory.”

He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Wow.”

“I've never had the nerve to explain my theory to a man I was about to have sex with. I think that's why the first time has always been a dud.”

“Oh?” He perked up at that. “A dud, huh?”

“For me, at least. No climax. But later, after I had a mental picture, then I could. Well, mostly.”

“You just sold me on the concept.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I'm declaring this a no-dud zone. Just tell me what to do.”

“Nothing.” His willingness to make love her way was so arousing that she couldn't imagine having dud-level sex with him even if she couldn't visualize every inch of his body. But now that she had his full cooperation, she was determined to test her theory.

From where she knelt in front of him, she could reach the snaps on the cuffs of his shirt. She undid one and rolled back the sleeve to his elbow. Although she'd watched him do the same thing, being the person doing the uncovering of that muscled forearm was completely different. Because he'd turned his sleeves back often this past summer, he was tanned there and the soft hair was lightened by the sun.

She examined his large hand with its blunt-tipped fingers, fingers that would soon be exploring her the way she was exploring him. Her body hummed at the thought of where he would touch her. He had a scar on the back of his hand she'd never noticed before and she ran her finger over it.

“Barbed wire.” His voice was low and thick, as if his imagination was working overtime, too.

She glanced up at him. “Battle scar.”

“I guess.” His dark eyes were intently focused on her. “I have a few of those.”

Inside and out.
But she wouldn't say that aloud and remind him of things best forgotten right now. Moving to his other arm, she rolled back that sleeve. And he didn't think he was beautiful. She had the urge to lean down and kiss the sculpted contours, but that wouldn't be fair.

Uncovering was one thing. Kissing and licking was a whole other method of exploration. She anticipated the pleasure of that eventually, but she'd wait until later, after they'd worn each other out a little.

Reaching up, she unsnapped the front of his shirt and gradually unveiled his lightly furred chest. It heaved as she made her way to the last snap. “Are you okay?”

“I'm on fire and my balls ache. Other than that . . . yeah.”

His comment made her aware of a similar insistent throbbing. As she stood so she could take off his shirt, she realized her panties were damp. Apparently this was her kind of foreplay, because she was also trembling enough that she wasn't doing a good job of getting his shirt off.

“Want some help?”

“No, and I love that you asked instead of just doing it. There. Got it.” She stepped back to get a better view of Mac, shirtless, and let out a long sigh. Perfect shoulders, perfect pecs, perfect abs.

If she had her way, he'd never wear a shirt again. She'd seen classic marble statues that didn't look this good. Plus she loved a man with some chest hair, and statues didn't have any.

His voice broke her concentration. “I have an idea.”

“What?”

“If you took off a few things, too, then after your visual tour, we could . . . proceed.”

The plan had merit. The more she revealed of his gorgeous body, the more she wanted to experience that restrained power. “Okay.”

“There's a chair right behind you if you want to sit down and pull off your boots.”

She had to drag her attention from his magnificent chest, but she managed to accomplish that long enough to locate the wooden chair. After she'd removed her boots and socks, she stood.

“How about your shirt?”

She saw no reason not to. She stripped it off and tossed it on the chair behind her. Then she figured the bra could go, as well.

“Might as well ditch the jeans, too.” He made it sound like a casual suggestion, but there was nothing casual about the way he was looking at her.

“You're not going to grab me when I come back over there, are you?”

“Nope. I'm following your plan to the letter.”

She unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her thighs, which were a hundred times more sensitive than they had been a few minutes ago.

His breathing changed as he followed her movements, and his eyes grew so dark they were almost black. Then his gaze traveled slowly back up. It lingered on her white lace panties, caressed her midriff, and settled on her breasts.

She could almost feel the brush of his fingers along her inner thighs and the teasing pressure of his hand against the damp crotch of her panties. Under his intense stare, her breasts tingled and her nipples grew taut.

He took a shaky breath. “How about—”

“No. Not yet.”

He groaned softly. “Have mercy, Anastasia.”

“I'm almost done.” She quivered as she walked back to the bed. “You've been a good sport.”

“This could backfire, you know.”

“How?”

“All this waiting. One thrust and game over.”

She hadn't figured on that possibility. “That would be unfortunate.”

“You're telling me. I'm the one who promised this was a dud-free zone.”

“Are you beyond hope?”

“Not yet.” His jaw clenched. “Getting there.”

“Where do you keep your condoms?”

“Here.” He leaned over, yanked on the bedside table drawer, and pulled it right off its moorings. It clattered to the floor, along with a box of condoms.

She snatched up the box. “Take off the rest. I'll get one of these.”

“Have you visualized enough?” He stood and shucked his jeans and briefs.

“I think so.” She was in the process of digging a foil packet out of the box when she came to a full stop. From the corner of her eye she glimpsed the most impressive package she'd ever seen in her life. She turned to stare. “Oh, Mac.”

“Give me that. You can memorize me later.” He took the packet and ripped it open. “Better get rid of your panties because I would hate to tear them to shreds.”

His urgent tone galvanized her into action. By the time he'd rolled the condom on that amazing penis, she'd taken off her panties. He caught her hand and they tumbled onto the bed, laughing like crazy people.

But he quickly pinned her to the mattress and moved between her thighs. Then he paused and leaned down to drop a gentle kiss on her mouth. “Got your slide show ready?”

She ran her hands up and down his sturdy back. “I didn't get this part.”

“Take my word for it.” He nibbled on her lower lip. “It's decent.”

“I'm sure.”

“Then we're good to go.”

Her heart raced as he sought her entrance and slid partway in.

He put his lips next to her ear. “No duds, Twinkle Toes.” He eased in a little more. “I'll wait for you. Take all the time you want.”

Breathing fast, she clutched his hips. Her theory was right! She knew this man from his head to his elegant toes and her body rejoiced at making the ultimate connection. “More,” she whispered.

“Gladly.” He pushed deep.

And she came, much to her surprise and even more to his. Gasping and crying out with wonder, she reveled in the sensuality of an orgasm that had required no thought and no effort.

His hot breath touched her ear. “That was too easy. We're going for two.” And he began to pump, slowly at first, and then more vigorously.

“Oh, Mac!” She rose to meet him as the pressure of a second climax bore down on her.

His low chuckle was sex personified. “I knew it. I knew it would be like this. Come for me, Anastasia.”

And she did, her body spiraling out of control a second time.

“My turn.” Lifting his head, he gazed into her eyes as he pounded into her. “Can you come again?”

“I don't know.”

“I think you can.” He shifted his angle. “How's that?”

“Good. So good. So . . .” And she surrendered to a third climax at the same moment he drove home one last time and shuddered in her arms, the pulsing of his orgasm keeping time with hers.

For several long minutes they lay there, panting and plastered together in the kind of sensual bliss created by a mutual climax, or in her case, three.
Three
. First-time sex with a man had never been even remotely like this.

He was the first to stir. “Don't go away.” He aimed for her mouth and kissed her nose, instead.

“I just had a record three orgasms in a row. I can't move from this spot, let alone leave the room.”

“Good. That was part of my evil plan.” He eased away from her and climbed out of the bed.

When he was gone she opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling. It had beams up there. Who knew? She'd been concentrating on the most incredible sexual experience of her life.

Maybe her theory had something to do with her response, but she thought maybe some of the credit belonged to Mac. Mac and his awesome equipment. His lovemaking hadn't been fancy but it had been assured. He'd learned how to use what he'd been given to the best advantage.

He walked back into the bedroom and instantly she imagined a pencil drawing of his sketch-worthy body. But he'd been hesitant about letting her create that. He'd wanted to be okay with it, but she'd heard the reservations he hadn't voiced. Paid models were one thing, but Mac was her friend and now her lover. She didn't want to invade his privacy.

She propped her head on her hand and watched as he came over to the side of the bed and picked up the drawer he'd yanked out in his eagerness to find a condom. “Just to put your mind at ease, I won't draw you if you'd rather I didn't.”

He slid the drawer into place and glanced at her. “But you want to, right?”

“More than you can even guess. I've sketched male models before, but they were . . . I don't know . . . anemic compared to you. You're so vibrant.”
And well endowed.
“My fingers itch for a pencil.”

Smiling, he picked up his briefs and his jeans and started putting them on.

“Yikes, did I scare you with that comment? I promise I won't draw a single line if you don't want me to. Please don't cover up. I know you're a private guy, and I—”

“You didn't scare me. I'm going out to get your sketch pad and pencils from your saddlebag.” He walked over to his closet and pulled out some flip-flips.

“Flip-flops? What kind of cowboy wears flip-flops?”

“I do.” He shoved his feet into them. “Shows off my elegant toes.” Laughing, he left the room.

She flopped back on the bed. The guy was blowing her away. First he'd helped her get over her fear of horses. Then he'd given her the most satisfying sex ever. Now, even though he'd been clearly hesitant about having her create nude sketches, he was fetching her paper and pencils so she could begin.

When she'd asked him to teach her to ride, she'd had no clue the issues that she would be stirring up for him. She'd thought it was all about her fears, but he'd had a few of his own to conquer. Judging from the evidence—her presence in his bed and his willingness to pose nude for her—he seemed to have done a fair job of that. And she admired the hell out of him for it.