By the time supper is ready, I’m tipsy and horny as I’ve ever been. The kitchen is so warm and cozy that I’ve peeled off my tall, leather boots and rid myself of my tights. We set the table together and sit down across from each other but the only thing I can think about is him putting those big hands on me. My mind swirls with all the moments we’ve shared in one short afternoon—him carrying me out of the snow, his hand on my back while I interviewed him, us laughing and cooking together. I want him, even though I know I shouldn’t. We have nothing in common. He’s a cowboy, for god’s sake. But, what would it be like to be touched by him? I have a feeling it would be heaven on earth.

The snow keeps coming down outside and at this moment, when I’m warm and dry and a little drunk, I want it to never stop. I want to stay in this moment forever. Well, maybe if this moment leads to us in bed together.

“This stew is delicious,” I say, knowing that my tone is one a nice girl would never use.

“It’s extra good because we did it together.” He smiles and I know that he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

“Do you cook with your girlfriend?”

“Don’t have one,” he says, breaking off a piece of a bread roll and dipping it in his bowl.

“Your fiancée, then?” I ask, feeling too tipsy to be embarrassed.

“Don’t have one of those either.” He pops the bread in his mouth and I’m mesmerized by the sight of his lips. “Do you cook with your boyfriend?”

I shake my head and run my fingertips over the collar of my dress. “Don’t have one of those either. Not for a long time.”

“A girl like you without a man is like a cowboy without a horse.”

“Oh yeah? How so?”

“You can’t be very happy without something to ride.”

My entire body heats up at the way he’s looking at me. I want to ride something all right. And he’s hiding it in those tight Levi’s. I press my thighs together to prolong the tingle inside. “And are you a good ride?”

“Honey, if you rode me, you’d never want to stop.” He picks up his spoon and gets back to eating in a nonchalant way like he didn’t just say that.

“Is that so?” I have another sip of wine, even though I’ve had more than enough already. “Well if I rode you, you’d never want another girl on your…saddle again.”

He chuckles and shakes his head at me while I blush a little at what a brazen woman I’m turning out to be. I can’t even believe myself right now. I’m practically throwing myself at Rider. He’s turning me into a total hussy.

“You should eat up,” he says. “Soak up a little of that wine.”

I flush again, feeling a little stupid that he’s suggesting I’m too drunk. I lift my spoon to my mouth without saying a word. As I finish the bowl, my mind processes what just happened and I start to feel annoyed. He’s the one who started the serious flirting, then he shut it down hard when I tried to turn up the heat a little. Maybe he can’t handle a girl like me. Or maybe he likes to lead women on, then reject them. Or maybe he just doesn’t find me attractive. The thought makes my gut twist and I want to get out of here. Damn storm.

As soon as I finish eating, I get up and clear my dishes, then run the water in the sink. I add some soap, then plunge my hands into the tepid water and start scrubbing my bowl with a vengeance. A moment later, I feel him against my back. He reaches around and drops his dishes in the sink, then lowers his mouth to my ear.

“Don’t be mad, darlin’. I didn’t mean to insult you.”

“I’m not mad,” I say, scrubbing my bowl much harder than I need to. “I just don’t like guys who play games.”

He wraps his arms around me and takes the cloth and bowl from me, pressing his body against mine. “I’m not playing.”

My entire body heats up with him so near. I’m both angry and turned on at the same time. I’m angry at him for treating me like a drunk idiot and angry at myself for being a fool in front of him. He drops the dishes in the water and takes hold of my hands. When he speaks, his voice is a low rumble against my neck. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you. If you want me to make it up to you, I will.”

My mind flashes with all the ways he might make it up to me. Naked ways. Ways that make me scream and pant and beg for more. I lean against him a little as he holds my hands in the warm, soapy water. I turn my head so our lips are just inches apart. “Make it up to me.”

He brushes his lips against mine. “You sure about this?”

I nod, unable to speak, then close my eyes. I can feel his erection against the small of my back. I want to feel that inside me, not against me. He grips my hands even tighter and pins me against the counter. I can’t move and I don’t want to try. His lips meet mine and he claims my mouth, thrusting his tongue in between my parted lips. His kiss sears through my body, scorching me and waking up every cell. I want to turn to him so I can wrap my arms around his neck and my legs around his waist but he’s got me pinned. The way he kisses me draws out a long moan from deep within me. My panties are soaked with the thrill of him and I arch my back a little to show him what I want.

We stay like this for a long time, kissing wildly with him pressed against me. I’m so crazy with desire that I can hardly stand it. I don’t care that I just met him and that I barely know him. I need him now. I pull my mouth from his and whisper, “Yes.”

Ryder takes both of my hands in one of his, then lifts his other hand out of the water and rubs it across my breasts. He squeezes them one at a time, then runs his hand down my side and along my thigh. I part my legs, hoping he’s going to lift my dress. He does what I want, running his fingers in between my thighs, then straight to my drenched panties. I lean my head against his shoulder and stare at the reflection of us in the window straight ahead. He’s so big and tall. I watch as he sucks on my earlobe, then plants kisses down my neck. He muscular hand is between my thighs, pressed up against the fabric of my panties. I want him to rip them out of the way, but he doesn’t. He rubs me through the lace, taking control of my pleasure. I turn my head again to find his mouth with mine. He rewards me with a long, deep kiss. I buck against his hand, willing him to do more, give me more, but he doesn’t. He teases me, getting so close without penetrating me.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he murmurs in my ear.

“You made me wet, Ryder.”

“Do you want me to make you come?”

I nod and let out a little whimper at the thought of coming for him.

“Say it,” he growls.

“I want you to make me come.”

He pushes the fabric out of his way, then thrusts his fingers inside my wet, hot skin. I cry out and buck against his hand as he fills me and stretches my tight pussy. In and out, he glides his hand, using his thumb to tease my clit, rolling the pad of his thumb over it until I can hardly take it. I arch my back more, hoping he’ll undo his jeans and sink himself into me. I want to feel his big cock inside me now. I’ve never wanted something so badly in my life like I want him.

He kisses me hard on the mouth, thrusting his tongue inside as he works his magic on me with his fingers. The way I’m moving now, the way I’m wiggling and rotating my hips is wild and wanton. I’m filled with a need so deep, so primal, that I can’t help myself. I try to get my hands out of his grip so I can undo his jeans and free him, but he tightens his hold on me. I’m powerless to do anything but let him finger fuck me.

“Don’t try to fight me,” he growls in my ear. “I’m going to make you come so hard, you’ll feel this next week.”

I buck against him. “I want you, Ryder. All of you.”

“You’ll take what I give you.” His voice is a low rumble against my neck now. His hand thrusts harder, his thumb presses on my clit, causing me to explode.

I scream out with the force of it, everything going black for a second as I pant and press myself against his hand. I’m shameless as I rub myself on him, my breath catching as I ride the waves of pleasure. I pant, my heart pounding as I start to come down from the high he’s given me. My body goes limp against him as I recover. Smiling, I turn to him, unable to voice what I’m feeling. I’ve never felt this feminine or satisfied in my life. If he can do that with just one hand, I’m half scared of what he could do to me with his cock. I know I’d die to find out, though.

He kisses me again, roughly, with a passion I’ve only read about in my romance novels. I’m putty in his arms, ready to do anything he wants to me. Ready to get down on my knees and worship his big cock. Ready to spread my legs and let him pump me full of his seed. Ready to ride him long and hard until we both lose ourselves. He pulls his hand out suddenly, then lets go of my wrists. I turn to him, reaching for his belt, but he steps back and walks away, leaving me panting and confused.