The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(70)

“Hey, you aren’t supposed to tense up. You’re supposed to relax and let me work magic on those tired, overworked muscles,” Sawyer said.

She blinked away the image of Betsy’s face and forced herself to unwind. The Gallaghers and the Brennans were not going to spoil her Sunday evening. She didn’t give a damn if Wallace did slaughter the pigs and already had those fancy cows packaged up into hamburger meat. She had a naked cowboy giving her the best massage she’d ever had.

When Sawyer finished with her toes, he flipped her over and started back up the front side. Lord, God, almighty! She’d never be able to put lotion on her hands again without thinking of his hands as they discovered every single erogenous zone on her body. That little space between the pad of her foot and her toes, the inside of her knees, halfway up her thighs, and the soft spot where her leg attached to her body—how could they make her hormones hum like a finely tuned fiddle?

By the time he got to her aching breasts, she was fighting to keep her back straight and not arch toward him, to keep from pushing him over on his back and riding him in unabandoned hot sex. But she wanted passionate lovemaking, not a five-minute quickie.

Listening to your heart, are you? the voice in her head asked.

She floated so high above reality that she didn’t even argue or answer.

He ended the massage by kissing all her fingers, one by one, and then he settled himself on top of her, his mouth finding hers in a kiss so full of passion that all semblance of gravity escaped. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched against him. Quickie. Two hours. All night. Five minutes. She couldn’t bear another minute without him inside her.

“Now?” he asked.

“I should return the massage, but, holy shit, Sawyer, I can’t even think,” she panted.

He slid into her body in one fluid movement, and they rocked together. She clung to him, fingernails pressing into his back, and legs locked around him. His kisses deepened, and her hands moved to his cheeks and then up to grasp his hair. She wanted to touch him, all of him, so her hands roamed from shoulders to his firm butt, down his legs as far as she could reach, and back again.

He took her to the very brink of an exploding climax and then backed off to let her cool down before building up the tempo again. “Open your eyes, Jill, so I can see down to the bottom of your soul,” he said between short gasps.

“All you’ll see right now is a red-hot desire for you,” she answered, then pulled his lips to hers for another searing kiss.

He grinned. “Then keep your eyes open and let me see that.”

It was cold in the room, but every inch of her body was on fire. Her toes curled. Her body ached with desire.

“Now?” he asked.

“Three hours ago,” she answered.

She imagined a cliff overlooking a deep blue sea. She’d climbed to the top, and when Sawyer said her name in a hoarse Texas drawl, she wrapped both arms around his back and growled his name as they tumbled into the cool water together.

When he could catch his breath, he rolled to one side, but he didn’t let go of her. “Hot damn!” he muttered.

“You got that right.” She snuggled as close to him as she could get and shut her eyes. She wouldn’t sleep. She’d just stay there until her wobbly knees could take her to her own bedroom. But in two minutes she’d drifted off into that wonderful place that consenting adults go when the sex is so damn good they can’t move a muscle afterward.

Jill dreamed of a pasture full of bright yellow daisies with half a dozen kids romping around at a picnic. Little red-haired girls dressed in denim shorts and cowboy boots. Dark-haired boys in boots and jeans. And there was Sawyer, a little older with a few shots of gray in his temples, but he still looked at her with the same brown-eyed wonder that she’d seen right before they’d fallen asleep.

She awoke to the sound of running water and whistling. A quick glance toward the clock said that it was five o’clock. That had to be morning, not evening, because the last time she checked, it was past six. Her feet hit the cold floor, and she did a quick tiptoe dance to the bathroom, where she threw back the shower curtain and stepped in front of Sawyer.

“Good mornin’.” He grinned. “I was going to let you sleep while I went out to do the chores. There’s a cold, blustery wind blowing. Even Piggy and Chick are hugging the woodstove this morning.”

“Thank you, but I’m wide awake. We can make breakfast, and then after we eat, we’ll do chores. I hate to even think about that day coming when this is in my hands.”

“Come summer we’ll hire some help for the ranch. Gladys says she gets half a dozen boys to come and help soon as school is out. Polly should be well, and things will let up a little then.” Sawyer picked up the shampoo, poured out a healthy amount on her hair, and worked it in from top to bottom. “Now turn around, and I’ll rinse it all away before we use the conditioner. Your hair is silky, Jill. With all those curls, you’d think it would be wiry, but it’s not.”

“Neither is this.” She touched the soft dark hair on his chest.

“So you don’t want me to shave it all off?”

“Why would you do that? I love it. Little boys have bare chests. Men have hair. Hunky cowboys have just the right amount,” she answered.

“Do I get to be in that latter category?”