Cowboy Resurrection: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 2 Read Online Free PDF Page B

established a rhythm of breath and tongues that pulled all consciousness from her brain. She was flying, far too high on Dean to realize she was riding him, rubbing herself against the hardening bulge in his jeans.
    He broke their kiss and rested his forehead against hers. He let go of her waist and dragged his fingers through her hair, clasping it and gently pulling it back until her lips parted with a gasp.
    “Tell me what you want.” His deep voice sent shivers up her spine.
    She was silent, paralyzed with pleasure.
    “Tell me what you want, Monica,” he said again. His firm tone made her insides clench. Already she could feel how wet she was, how ready.
    “You need it. Same as I do.” He touched her face and skimmed his fingertips down her throat. “Don’t you?”
    “I do.” She was still. “But no one can know about this.”
    “I understand.”
    “Dean, I’m serious. Not a soul. Promise me.”
    He nodded. “I promise.”
    In a heartbeat, he lifted her and laid her gently on her back. She closed her eyes. Peach-colored sunlight shone through her closed eyelids. Dean distracted her with hard kisses as he undressed her, pulling her blouse from her skirt and undoing her buttons, one by one. He pulled her up, unhooked her bra clasp and whipped the bra off her. Wind cut through the ravine, stirring the grasses and flowers and racing over her skin, making her nipples harden. Dean cupped her breasts with his enormous hands and stroked her nipples with his fingertips.
    “Beautiful,” he said quietly.
    He kissed her mouth once more, a deep, commanding kiss that made her blood bolt to her pussy like quicksilver. Still rubbing her nipples with the pads of his fingers, he traced an achingly slow trail of kisses down her chest and stomach until he reached her belly button. He brushed his fingers in a line between her hipbones, and she almost jumped out of her skin.
    She opened her eyes as he sat up and stripped off his shirt.
    “I don’t have anything with me,” he said, looking down at her. “But…I can still make you feel good.”
    Monica stared at Dean’s naked chest. She couldn’t have imagined a hotter sight if she tried. Broad as a door, he was tan and tight and beautiful. Well-built shoulders sloped down to rounded pectoral muscles and abs packed together like six shiny apples in a gift box.
    Her eyes raked over him. Random scars marred his skin, silvery stripes, wide jagged slashes and puckered lines where stitches had been put in and taken out. Dark hair covered his chest, narrowing into a trail that led down past his shallow belly button until it disappeared behind the shiny buckle of his belt. The name Cecilia was tattooed over his heart, the ink faded to slate green. A second tattoo covered his right biceps, ornate knots and spidery lines.
    “You all right?” He slid his hand across his abs, as if he needed to draw any more of her attention to his body.
    “Who’s Cecilia?” she asked.
    “My mom.”
    God, how many women had ogled him like this? Did he enjoy seeing the looks on their faces when he took off his clothes? Did he even care anymore?
    Monica cared. The sight of a shirtless Dean MacKinnon had already burned itself into her memory. She’d remember it until she was an old lady in her rocking chair.
    That one time I had me a cowboy , she’d think to herself. A long time ago.
    She glanced down past his belt buckle. Over the last couple of weeks working with real cowboys, she’d noticed that they wore their jeans a little looser to be able to move as they worked. Dean’s were the same, but there was no concealing the big bulge behind his fly. He saw where she was looking and smiled as he rubbed it with his palm.
    He dropped to his knees, grabbed his shirt and spread it out on the ground. Gently, he helped her onto it. With his big hands, he gathered her skirt up over her hips until it bunched around her waist. She was wearing a plain cotton thong, but he looked at her with appreciation