Read Online A Cowboy in Manhattan by Barbara Dunlop - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Dunlop
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moved off into the distance. The sound diminished, and the ground vibrations disappeared.
Reed noticed Katrina was shaking.
“Hey.” He smoothed back her hair. “Big-city princess, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Then I’m embarrassed.”
“Okay, that’s a valid emotion.”
She socked him in the bicep with the flat of her fist. “I’m not used to horses.”
“No kidding.”
Now that she’d calmed down, he allowed himself to focus on the feel of her in his arms. She was softly curved, perfectly proportioned. The top of her head only came to his chin, but she was looking up, and if he dipped his head, tipped it on an angle, his lips would be on hers.
His hand convulsed against the small of her back. Her hips pressed against the V of his thighs. Her hands were warm where they rested against his back. And a surge of desire crested in his veins.
His gaze met hers, opaque and darkened to midnight-blue. The world stilled and paused for breath around them, the birds going silent, the wind going still; even the sound of the brook was muffled in the thickening air. His free hand rose to cup her cheek, sliding into her hairline as he dipped his head. Her sweet breath mingled with his.
“Tell me no,” he rasped. Nothing short of her genuine protest would stop him this time.
But she stayed silent, stayed pressed against him, her lips slightly parted.
He cursed under his breath and crossed those final inches that brought his lips flush against hers. The burst of passion was instantaneous, igniting every fiber of his body to a roaring need. Her lips were full, tender and hot, and they tasted like summer nectar.
He urged them apart, delving deep with his tongue, his fingers tangling in her hair, his other arm wrapping fully around her waist, pressing her tight against his intense desire.
His kiss was too hard. His hold was too tight. He lifted her easily off the ground, even as a small speck of sanity that was struggling deep inside his brain ordered him to slow it down, to let her go, to back off.
But she moaned against his mouth, the vibration setting off another chain reaction of passion. Her hands fisted into his sweat-dampened shirt, while the softness of her breasts burned an imprint into his chest.
A horse whinnied in the distance, and the sound of the brook flowed into his ears. Birds came back to life, while the breeze picked up, cooling his overheated skin.
With steely determination, he forced himself to break the kiss. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, still drinking in the feel of her soft curves.
“I’m not,” she gasped.
His body convulsed. “Don’t say that.”
“Okay.” A pause. “I won’t.”
He sucked in a couple of deep, deep breaths, forcing his hand to fall away from her cheek. Then he regretfully touched his forehead to hers. “I was out of line.”
“Why are you blaming yourself?” Her breathing was as deep as his. “There are two of us here.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She drew slowly back. Wisps of blond hair had worked free from her ponytail. Her lips were swollen red, cheeks flushed, eyes bedroom-soft with a sensual message. “In some circumstances, being a gentlemen is overrated.”
Reed groaned his frustration. “You’re killing me, Katrina.”
“Not exactly what I was going for.”
“You want me to kiss you again?” he demanded, knowing he couldn’t take much more of her flirtatious teasing.
“You want to kiss me again, cowboy?”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
They stared at each other in charged silence.
“But I won’t,” he determined, gritting his teeth.
He wouldn’t, because if he kissed her again, he knew he wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t matter that the bedroom of his future house was nothing but a few stakes in the ground—he’d make passionate love to her, right here in the thick grass of the meadow. And then he’d have to
Reed noticed Katrina was shaking.
“Hey.” He smoothed back her hair. “Big-city princess, there’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
“Nothing to be sorry about.”
“Then I’m embarrassed.”
“Okay, that’s a valid emotion.”
She socked him in the bicep with the flat of her fist. “I’m not used to horses.”
“No kidding.”
Now that she’d calmed down, he allowed himself to focus on the feel of her in his arms. She was softly curved, perfectly proportioned. The top of her head only came to his chin, but she was looking up, and if he dipped his head, tipped it on an angle, his lips would be on hers.
His hand convulsed against the small of her back. Her hips pressed against the V of his thighs. Her hands were warm where they rested against his back. And a surge of desire crested in his veins.
His gaze met hers, opaque and darkened to midnight-blue. The world stilled and paused for breath around them, the birds going silent, the wind going still; even the sound of the brook was muffled in the thickening air. His free hand rose to cup her cheek, sliding into her hairline as he dipped his head. Her sweet breath mingled with his.
“Tell me no,” he rasped. Nothing short of her genuine protest would stop him this time.
But she stayed silent, stayed pressed against him, her lips slightly parted.
He cursed under his breath and crossed those final inches that brought his lips flush against hers. The burst of passion was instantaneous, igniting every fiber of his body to a roaring need. Her lips were full, tender and hot, and they tasted like summer nectar.
He urged them apart, delving deep with his tongue, his fingers tangling in her hair, his other arm wrapping fully around her waist, pressing her tight against his intense desire.
His kiss was too hard. His hold was too tight. He lifted her easily off the ground, even as a small speck of sanity that was struggling deep inside his brain ordered him to slow it down, to let her go, to back off.
But she moaned against his mouth, the vibration setting off another chain reaction of passion. Her hands fisted into his sweat-dampened shirt, while the softness of her breasts burned an imprint into his chest.
A horse whinnied in the distance, and the sound of the brook flowed into his ears. Birds came back to life, while the breeze picked up, cooling his overheated skin.
With steely determination, he forced himself to break the kiss. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, still drinking in the feel of her soft curves.
“I’m not,” she gasped.
His body convulsed. “Don’t say that.”
“Okay.” A pause. “I won’t.”
He sucked in a couple of deep, deep breaths, forcing his hand to fall away from her cheek. Then he regretfully touched his forehead to hers. “I was out of line.”
“Why are you blaming yourself?” Her breathing was as deep as his. “There are two of us here.”
“I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She drew slowly back. Wisps of blond hair had worked free from her ponytail. Her lips were swollen red, cheeks flushed, eyes bedroom-soft with a sensual message. “In some circumstances, being a gentlemen is overrated.”
Reed groaned his frustration. “You’re killing me, Katrina.”
“Not exactly what I was going for.”
“You want me to kiss you again?” he demanded, knowing he couldn’t take much more of her flirtatious teasing.
“You want to kiss me again, cowboy?”
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
They stared at each other in charged silence.
“But I won’t,” he determined, gritting his teeth.
He wouldn’t, because if he kissed her again, he knew he wouldn’t stop. It wouldn’t matter that the bedroom of his future house was nothing but a few stakes in the ground—he’d make passionate love to her, right here in the thick grass of the meadow. And then he’d have to
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