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embarrassment at what she’d done…or the heat of desire from imagining what it would be like to make love to Jess.
    Trace flipped on the radio in an effort to get her mind on something else. The rich voice of the man singing a popular country western tune only reminded her of Jess’s deep baritone.
    She tried to turn her thoughts to the deserted country highway, tried to get the cowboy out of her mind, but it was impossible. Instead, her nipples grew tighter against the silk dress, and her clit felt swollen and raw as her thong panties rubbed against her folds.
    Considering the chilly desert night, she was burning hot.
    Jeez. She couldn’t get to Dee’s looking like this—decked out in this tiny little outfit, looking like she’d just made out with a guy. What was she thinking?
    Trace kept her eyes open for a dirt road and pulled the Mustang onto the first available one she spotted. Good thing this was such a rural area. She could make a quick change and get back on the road.
    After she made sure she was well off the highway, Trace parked the car and turned off the ignition, but left the radio on. The blue glow from the dashboard was the only light in the car, but outside the moon slid from behind a scrap of moody clouds and washed the desert with its silvery radiance.
    She leaned her head against the cool glass of the side window as she looked up at the incredible display above her, stars glittering in patches where clouds had retreated. She’d forgotten how bright the stars were out here in the country, far from any towns. It was beautiful. What would it be like to make love to Jess under these stars?
    No, Harold. She meant what would it be like to make love to Harold.
    Yeah, right.
    With a groan, Trace reached between the bucket seats to grab her duffle out of the back. >From years of travel experience, she always kept a quick change of casual clothes in a carry-on bag, along with basic necessities, just in case her luggage was lost at the airport or stolen from the trunk of her car.
    Her dress pulled against her breasts as she stretched her hand toward where the duffle rested on the floorboard, and one nipple popped free. It felt cool and erotic rubbing over the leather seat of the Mustang as she reached for her bag. Her thong slid into her folds, pressing harder against her clit.
    Maybe what she needed was a good orgasm. It had been at least a couple of weeks or longer since she’d had sex with Harold. He’d been tired from work one week, and the next had been an inconvenient time of the month for her, and then she’d left for the States a few days ago.
    Trace settled back in her seat, leaving the duffle where it rested. She brought her hands up to her breasts and cupped the bare nipple and the one still covered by the thin material of her dress. Instead of the one man she’d had sex with for the past two years, she could only visualize Jess. Could only imagine his hands caressing her, flicking his thumbs over her nipples.
    She eased her breasts free of the plunging neckline, her nipples beading even tighter in the cool air. Her pulse picked up at the thought of Jess’s mouth on her nipples, licking and sucking, and biting her the same way he’d kissed her.
    Slipping one hand between her thighs, Trace ran her fingertips over the soaked crotch of her thong. She’d never been so wet before. So hot.
    Trace let go of the guilt, let go of everything but the fantasy of fucking that cowboy. She slid her fingers into her panties, into her drenched folds, and gasped when she stroked her clit. She was so close to coming, when it usually took her a while to reach orgasm.
    With her free hand she cupped one breast and raised it up while lowering her mouth. Her breasts were big enough that she could flick her tongue against her nipple while she fingered her clit.
    She closed her eyes, imagining it was Jess who licked her nipples. Jess rubbing his cock against her clit before sliding into her pussy. And how it would feel