Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas, #2)(44)

“Oh, don’t give me that women’s lib crap. You know that’s not what I meant.”

Crap? Really?

“You know what? There’s something seriously wrong with you.” I blew out an irritated breath as I shifted the heavy bag onto my shoulder. “I can’t speak for other women, but I, for one, am not amused by your ludicrous behavior, no matter how ridiculously charming you may be.”

His lips settled into a wide grin.

I crossed my arms, not sure what to make of his expression. “Why are you smiling?”

He raised one brow. “Charming, huh?”

“Oh, good Lord. That’s all you got out of this entire conversation?”

“So how ridiculously charming do you think I am?” he asked as he moved closer, his proximity suffocating me.

Oh, great. I hadn’t meant to encourage him. “I…I don’t.” I shook my head vigorously as heat spread throughout my cheeks. “That wasn’t what I meant. I was just trying to explain how ridiculous you’re acting.”

Cowboy chuckled softly and touched my cheek. “Did you know that your ears and neck turn red when you blush? You keep looking so sweet and adorable, I might have to kiss you again.”

A tingle ran through me straight down to my nether regions, but I held my composure and placed my hands on my hips to show my exasperation. “You’ll do no such thing.” The wicked little smirk he wore had me worried, though.

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, stepping forward until his body brushed lightly against mine. “You sure about that?”

“Y-yes,” I said, trying to sound convincing. “Because not only are there other people around…” I glanced around, realizing that the vehicles blocked their view of us. Damn it. “But because you’re a gentleman.”

He lifted a hand and curled it around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him as his mouth opened and his breath touched my lips. In that second, my heart raced and my mind drew a blank.

Then I remembered what I was saying. “And I…I’m asking you…to keep your hands to…yourself.” There. I said it.

“Darlin’,” he drawled with a sly grin. “There’s only one problem with that theory of yours.”

“What’s that?” I breathed out, desperately trying to maintain my composure.

“I never claimed to be a gentleman.” Then he covered my mouth with his.

The moment his warm lips fastened over mine, my hands flew to his chest. I meant to push him away, I really did, but just couldn’t bring myself to actually do it.

His tongue flicked out, running teasingly across my bottom lip, then slowly worked its way into my mouth. The moment his tongue touched mine, an electrical current ran straight down my center, and my knees buckled. I sagged against him like a limp ragdoll, boneless and lacking all mental capabilities.

Never breaking contact with my mouth, Cowboy’s strong fingers slid over my ass, gripped it and lifted me back up, and steadied me against his strong frame. He nibbled at my bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth a little ways, then released it with a sharp nip that sent my nerves skittering throughout my body.

Although I didn’t want him to stop, I needed him to. I couldn’t breathe. My mind swam ferociously through a riptide of emotions that threatened to pull me under. Like I was choking on his overpowering testosterone and drowning in his masculinity. Overwhelmed by his very male essence, a shiver ran through me.

As our kiss came to a frustratingly slow end, I made the unfortunate mistake of sighing into his mouth, obliging him with the sound of my satisfaction. I felt him smirk against my lips.

Once we separated, he turned and walked back toward the house, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder. Probably making sure my legs hadn’t given out again.

And he was grinning. The smug bastard.

There were always two sides to every face: the one people wanted you to see and the one they kept hidden. But I already knew what was lurking in Cowboy’s shadows. He was a player. Always had been. Even his own buddies had called him out on that well-known fact in the barn.

Which meant that no matter what I’d overheard him say, I couldn’t trust that Cowboy wanted to change. Nor could I bear the thought of him scratching an itch with me, and then moving on to some other unsuspecting girl. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.

But explaining that to my surging hormones was a feat in itself.



After spending a moment gathering my wits, I returned to the picnic table where Momma Belle sat. Cowboy lazed in a nearby lawn chair, looking quite proud of himself, his long legs stretched out in front of him with one booted ankle kicked over the other. As I handed Momma Belle her purse, he eyed my shaky hands and smiled, obviously pleased that he’d had an effect on me.

She reached into the tote and pulled out the container of moonshine, then glanced up at Cowboy. “Lovely young lady you got here, whistle britches. Yes, indeed.” She opened the jar, took a large swig, then sat back as she peered directly at my breasts. “Just ripe for the pickin’, as my Earl would always say.”

Cowboy grinned, but said nothing.

“Is Earl your husband?” I asked, sitting down beside her and hoping to take the focus off my boobs. Jesus.

“Oh, yes, deary. He was. Up until the big C hooked its claws into him and sank him six feet into the ground. I’m tellin’ ya, folks can’t always afford no high-falutin’ doctor these days.”