Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(68)

tingle of anticipation. Wondering if he’ll put his mouth on your * and get you off

first. Or if he’ll just tease you. Push you to the edge and then slip on a condom to

take you the rest of the way. I’d bet he’s more of a teaser, more an equal

opportunity man. If you go down on him, he’ll go down on you.


“When he deems you ready for his cock, he’ll gently ease inside you, looking in your

eyes. He’ll keep up a steady pace, asking you the entire time if it’s okay. He’ll

try to remember to kiss you as the momentum builds and he f*cks you faster. You won’t

demand he slow down and see to your needs before his. You decide you’ll let it slide

this first time. After he comes, he’ll pant in your ear how good it was. You’ll tell

yourself it was okay. Even if you don’t believe it. Even if you have a sense that

something was missing.”


Ainsley stared at him. “And there’s something wrong with that scenario?”


“Yes, goddammit, there is, because that’s not what you want. That’s the type of

sexual encounter you’ve had your whole life.”


Her haughty look vanished.


“Now imagine having sex with me.”


She licked her lips.


“You know it’s not that civilized with me. Sex with me is raw, dirty and demanding,

but you’ll never feel there’s something missing because I will see to your needs

above my own. Every. Single. Time.”


“So you’re more of a giver than a taker?”


“Don’t get me wrong, I take plenty. But never at your expense.”


She softly said, “Then my answer is yes. One month.”


Relief flowed through him.


Ainsley scooted from the booth and Ben followed her outside. He admired how respectable

she looked in a form-fitting gold-colored business suit, and he couldn’t wait to

thoroughly muss her up. “Be at my place right after work.”


“So this is strictly clandestine between us?” she asked. “No public outings in

Sundance?”


“Nope.”


“Well, I don’t believe we’ll spend all of our time together naked.”


“Don’t bet the bank on that.” Ben tipped his hat and strode away.


Chapter Twelve


Ben hated putting his dogs outside. But if he wanted to use all the rooms in his house

with Ainsley, curious sniffing dogs would put a damper on that real fast.


He wasn’t a pacing kind of guy, but he beat a path from his kitchen to the bar,

through the game room, to his bedroom and back to the living room. He rarely had a case

of nerves, but he definitely was feeling them tonight.



Way to act like a confident Dom.


Finally, Ainsley knocked on the door.


Gone was the bank executive. She’d dressed in a long-sleeved T-shirt the color of

summer grass, jeans and puffy, down-filled vest. She wasn’t carrying an overnight bag.


“Hey. Come in. Did you eat?”


Ainsley shook her head. “Nervous stomach. I wasn’t sure…”


“If I’d make you strip the instant you walked in and we’d go at it in the foyer?”


“To be honest, yes.”