The Last Cowboy Standing. Barbara Dunlop
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She came up on her toes to meet him. “Let’s take it one instinct at a time.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His lips came down on hers, warm and firm, fueled with purpose and expectation.
One arm went around her waist, the other bracing the back of her head. She dropped her sandals and clung to his shoulders. Then she ran her hands through his hair, pressing her body against his, parting her lips and inviting the sweep of his tongue.
His kiss deepened, and she clung tighter, letting the sweep of arousal and desire flood through her. Leaves clattered above them. A blue glow surrounded them. The grass was cool on her feet, while Travis’s hot palm moved its way down her cheek, to her neck, to the bare shoulder revealed by her dress.
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