The True Cowboy of Sunset Ridge (Gold Valley #14)(98)

“Oh, you find it soothing, do you?”

“Yes,” she said.

“The idea that you’re a novelty.”

“Exactly.”

He took a couple steps forward, and suddenly his face was... Predatory. So unlike Tag in any way she had ever seen him before. “Nelly Foster, you are not a novelty. And you are not just one of an endless parade of women that have come to my bed. The parade is not endless—hate to disappoint you. Long though it may be. But even though there is a parade, you’re not a part of it. You are singular to me. I have wanted you for a long damn time. And it has driven me crazy. Because why the hell a guy like me, who knows that all he wants is easy sex and a good time, should be fixated on a girl who was bound to grow up to be the town librarian—that much was apparent from day one—I don’t know. I’ve never known. And you know what, I don’t like not knowing things. Because I may not know everything on a test, and I may not be the smartest kid in class, but I know about life. And I damn sure know about attraction. But I wanted you from the moment I started wanting. And I amused myself with easy, because I figured easy was about all I could handle. But you’re here now. I’m not about to turn you down.”

“You wanted me?” she asked. “You really wanted me?”

She was so turned on she didn’t really want to stop to have a conversation, but it was... It was tempting. To linger in this. Because Taggart McCloud could certainly have any woman he wanted—and she’d assumed that he had.

But apparently, all this time he had wanted her. He had wanted her.

“You know, there’s this thing. Chemistry. You have it or you don’t. And it has nothing to do with whether or not someone is the most attractive person on the planet. You can put two perfectly shiny, beautiful people together, and they may not have the greatest sex. Because sex is about chemistry. And, Nelly, we’ve had it from the beginning. We struck sparks off each other. Day one. And it was building to this. Why do you think I offered myself on your birthday. I got it in my head that you might be a virgin, and the idea obsessed me. Now, I was pretty sure you would’ve taken care of it between then and now. But... Yeah, that night, the minute it entered my head, I had to know. And I really wanted to be the one to do something about it. But that would’ve been a mess. Because I was twenty-three and a dumbass.”

“No offense, but aren’t you still kind of a dumbass?”

“Yes,” he said. “But less of one. Anyway, I know better how to handle this moment than I would have then.”

“How exactly?”

His mouth was on hers again. His large hands roaming over her curves. And she felt... She felt completely overwhelmed. The sensory... Everything was almost too much. The heat, the press of his body against hers, the sound of their breathing. His breath, his heartbeat. Her own. She felt dizzy. She felt transformed.

And she thought of dragons again.

She had sort of thought of this—of him—as a dragon to be slain.

But maybe it wasn’t about that. Maybe it was about being strong enough for the dragon. Maybe it was about becoming the kind of woman who could stand up to it.

And so she stopped worrying. About what she might do. About what he might feel. And she just let herself embrace her own desire. Let herself get caught up in it. When he stepped away from her, he stripped his shirt up over his head, and any thoughts that she had about being blasé quickly evaporated.

It had been a good while since she had seen Tag without a shirt on. He had lived up to every promise his body had made to her at seventeen, when she’d last seen him shirtless down at the swimming hole. And then some. His chest was broad and muscular, covered with dark hair now, a big difference between back then and fifteen years later. And she was confident that she wouldn’t have been able to appreciate this back then. But oh, she was ready for it now.

She pressed her hands against that chest, moved her fingers down in wonder, watching as they moved over his muscles. Every indentation. Every line.

“Oh my,” she said.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her against him, kissing her again. And somehow, he managed to get her shirt and bra off while still holding her in his arms.

She didn’t have time to be embarrassed, because she was too busy being breathless. And it was a gift. A beautiful, wonderful gift. That she could be with a man who affected her so deeply that her desire for him superseded her virginal nerves, of which there were legion.

The frank male appreciation in his gaze was stunning. Because she didn’t think anyone had ever looked at her like that. Like she was fascinating. More than that. Like he wanted to eat her.

And then he proceeded to do just that. He fastened a kiss to her collarbone, worked his way down. And then he took one nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.

She knew about sex. She liked sexy books. She had a rich fantasy life, because that was what you did when you were afraid to have an actual life. It was what you did when you felt too guilty to give yourself nice things. So she had gotten very accustomed to that realm. And she knew exactly the kinds of things that men and women did with each other. She was in favor of them. But somehow it was also much more than she had imagined. The scrape of his whiskers against her skin, the fractured quality of his breathing. And the stark, sharp sensations that had nothing to do with her own hand. That, that was what shocked her the most. How different it was when she wasn’t in control. Because it was him. The pressure that he put on her body. Where he touched her. The unknown. It was so intense. So heady. So glorious.