The Curvy Vet and the Billionaire Cowboy (He Wanted Me Pregnant!) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and excited and…panting.” I tried to catch my breath. “Then that’s a sign.”
    He nodded slowly. “Mmm-hmm.”
    “But you can’t just run in and do something like that,” I said quickly. “With any…mare. However much you want to start a…line.”
    I was leaning closer to the fire, but that didn’t explain why the temperature had shot up by twenty degrees.
    “Why not?” Russ asked. “Isn’t it the most natural thing in the world? We’re all designed to breed. If it’s right, and you know it’s right, then why not go ahead and do it?”
    I nodded, barely able to speak. Dark ripples of heat were moving up and down my body, making my face glow and my nipples harden. Down between my thighs, I could feel the heat turning to moisture. This is crazy! He can’t be talking about—
    I stood up. “I think I should go to bed,” I said. My legs wavered, all the strength drained from them. “Goodnight.”
    He just sat there watching me for a moment. Then, “Goodnight.”
    I could feel his eyes on my ass as I crawled into my tent. Inside, I zipped it closed and then turned on a torch, lighting up the interior with a spooky white glow.
    What the hell was going on? Had Russ really been coming on to me, in some very raw and primal way? Had he really been hinting that he’d like to—I squirmed— breed me?
    I quickly stripped off my jeans, shirt and tank top and then my bra, and then reached for an old green Atlanta Falcons t-shirt to sleep in. It was only then that it hit me.
    I was inside the tent, with the light on. He was still sitting out there in the darkness, watching me. I was probably silhouetted. All of my horrible curves. Hell, even my nipples, still shamefully hard and straining from the conversation.
    I yanked the t-shirt down over my head and quickly scrambled into my sleeping bag and turned the torch off. Had he been watching? Had he been gazing at my breasts as they bobbed and swayed? There was no way of knowing.
    I lay very still. I couldn’t hear him moving around, so I figured he was still sitting by the fire. Maybe watching. Maybe not.
    Breeding me. Utterly ridiculous. What he was suggesting was some sort of rustic, country fantasy. Starting a family immediately with someone, even someone you loved, was nuts. Babies were something to be planned, and planned carefully. Maybe in your mid-to-late thirties, when your career was secure and you’d paid off all your debt, then, you could draw up calendars and plan fertility cycles and have sex on just the right day and then, maybe, it would happen and you could go squee with your friends and have a baby shower. But no one these days just got together and… went for it. No man just saw a woman and decided she was going to be his brood mare. Did they?
    It hit me that, if there was anyone in the world who would do exactly that, it was Russ. Too rich to follow the rules, too easygoing to care what people thought. And it fitted with his love of the simple life. It was cute, in a way. And sort of….
    …hot.
    I mean, obviously he hadn’t been talking about me. Probably he hadn’t been talking about women at all, just horses, and I was reading far too much into it. But theoretically, if he had been talking about me, then…the idea of it did something unexpected to me. It started a slow, spiral of energy down in my core, like a whirlpool of black oil. Bred. Not oh, darling, do you think it’s time we started a family? Not what color shall we paint the nursery? Bred.
    Just like a mare in heat, he’d know I was ready. He’d see all the little signs: my chest, rising and falling as I panted; my nipples hard—as they were right then, making little peaks under my t-shirt; my body aching and waiting for his touch.
    One of my hands rose to cup my breast. He’d caress me there, big hands squeezing, making me feel small. Then his palms would slide down to my belly. Maybe he’d tell me how he was going to change me. How he’d make the body I hated so much