The moment his warm lips fastened over mine, my hands flew to his chest. I meant to push him away, I really did, but just couldn’t bring myself to actually do it.
His tongue flicked out, running teasingly across my bottom lip, then slowly worked its way into my mouth. The moment his tongue touched mine, an electrical current ran straight down my center, and my knees buckled. I sagged against him like a limp ragdoll, boneless and lacking all mental capabilities.
Never breaking contact with my mouth, Cowboy’s strong fingers slid over my ass, gripped it and lifted me back up, and steadied me against his strong frame. He nibbled at my bottom lip, sucked it into his mouth a little ways, then released it with a sharp nip that sent my nerves skittering throughout my body.
Although I didn’t want him to stop, I needed him to. I couldn’t breathe. My mind swam ferociously through a riptide of emotions that threatened to pull me under. Like I was choking on his overpowering testosterone and drowning in his masculinity. Overwhelmed by his very male essence, a shiver ran through me.
As our kiss came to a frustratingly slow end, I made the unfortunate mistake of sighing into his mouth, obliging him with the sound of my satisfaction. I felt him smirk against my lips.
Once we separated, he turned and walked back toward the house, throwing a quick glance over his shoulder. Probably making sure my legs hadn’t given out again.
And he was grinning. The smug bastard.
There were always two sides to every face: the one people wanted you to see and the one they kept hidden. But I already knew what was lurking in Cowboy’s shadows. He was a player. Always had been. Even his own buddies had called him out on that well-known fact in the barn.
Which meant that no matter what I’d overheard him say, I couldn’t trust that Cowboy wanted to change. Nor could I bear the thought of him scratching an itch with me, and then moving on to some other unsuspecting girl. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take.
But explaining that to my surging hormones was a feat in itself.
After spending a moment gathering my wits, I returned to the picnic table where Momma Belle sat. Cowboy lazed in a nearby lawn chair, looking quite proud of himself, his long legs stretched out in front of him with one booted ankle kicked over the other. As I handed Momma Belle her purse, he eyed my shaky hands and smiled, obviously pleased that he’d had an effect on me.
She reached into the tote and pulled out the container of moonshine, then glanced up at Cowboy. “Lovely young lady you got here, whistle britches. Yes, indeed.” She opened the jar, took a large swig, then sat back as she peered directly at my breasts. “Just ripe for the pickin’, as my Earl would always say.”
Cowboy grinned, but said nothing.
“Is Earl your husband?” I asked, sitting down beside her and hoping to take the focus off my boobs. Jesus.
“Oh, yes, deary. He was. Up until the big C hooked its claws into him and sank him six feet into the ground. I’m tellin’ ya, folks can’t always afford no high-falutin’ doctor these days.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“No need to be sorry, girl. My Earl kept himself in good spirits and didn’t go down without a fight.”
“Yes, I hear having a positive outlook can be quite healing.”
“No, dear. Spirits.” Momma Belle tapped her nubby finger on the mason jar she was holding. “He took to making moonshine before he died. Said the white lightning was the only thing that helped keep the pain at bay.”
“Oh.” I smiled sympathetically. “Well, I’m sure you miss him a great deal.”
“Sure do. My Earl was a hoot, even if he did sag in places I didn’t want to look.” She cackled at that and gigged me hard in the ribs with her wrinkled elbow before leaning closer. “He had two bald eggs down below and a thingamajig that wasn’t much bigger than our billy goat’s, but that horny toad was always trying to get in my britches.”