"No, not really. He was..." How could she describe Jim Morningstar? "Larger than life, and hard as a brick. He liked a good horse and a bottle of cheap whiskey. He could handle the first, but he didn't do quite so well with the second. He didn't know what to do with me, so he did his best. It just wasn't good enough for either of us."
She leaned back when Jared's hands came to her shoulders as he asked, "Did you learn to ride?"
"So early I don't even remember learning. Could rope and tie a calf, too. Pulled in a few prizes." She laughed and turned to set her hands comfortably on his hips. "Honey, I learned to do all kinds of wild, wicked things while you were busy steaming up the windows of a '64 Dodge and sticking potatoes in tail pipes."
"Oh, yeah?" He tipped up her chin so they were eye-to-eye.
"Oh, yeah. I could take a horse that looked like two miles of bad road and groom him up till he shined. I liked the ones with temper," she drawled, rubbing her hands up his sides, over his hips. "The ones with fire in their eyes and just a little mean in the heart. I'd make him come to me. Right to me. Then I'd ride him." Eyes open, she scraped her teeth over his bottom lip. "I'd ride him hard and long. And when I was done, he'd be spoiled for anybody else."
His blood went instantly to boil. "Are you trying to seduce me?"
"Somebody's got to." Taking a good, firm grip, she fused her mouth to his until the heat burning through her engulfed him like a flash fire.
His hands gripped like vises on the edge of the sink behind her, his body pressing against hers. And then she was moving against him, sliding, rocking, turning him to iron while her mouth took big, hungry gulps.
"Jared, touch me." Desperate, she yanked his hand free, closed it over her breast, where her heart was pounding like steel on an anvil. "Touch me. Touch me," she repeated, even as his hands streaked under her shirt and filled with her.
She was like some dark, forbidden dream, warm limbs straining against him, sliding, tight denim against tight denim, in painful friction. The flesh in his greedy hands was firm and full and hot. He pressed his mouth to her throat. He could have sunk his teeth into it, such was his sudden, outrageous hunger.
He knew that if he didn't have her now, tonight, he'd be insane by morning.
When he pulled back, dizzy with appetite, she moaned. "For God's sake, are you trying to make me crazy?"
He stared, fighting for his breath as she fought for hers. Though his hands were at his sides now, he could feel her on his fingertips.
"That was the first part of the plan," he said as he took a deep gulp of air, then added, "I'm finished with the first part."
"Hallelujah."
He could almost have laughed. "Bryan's staying at Connor's?"
"Yes." Impatient, edgy, she grabbed his hands. ''Come upstairs.''
"No."
Her smile was slow and willing. "All right." But when she lifted her arms, happy to take him where they were, he caught her hands.
"No."
"Jared, don't make me hurt you."
He could laugh. "I'm hoping you will. Get a blanket."
"A blanket?"
"I want you in the woods." He turned her hand over in his, caught her wrist in his teeth. "I've always wanted you in the woods."
"I'll get a blanket," she managed, and nearly tripped over her own feet in her rush.
She had herself under control again as they walked together under the arching canopy of trees tender with spring, under the dazzle of stars and the glow of a three-quarter moon. She'd meant to seduce him tonight, to draw him slowly, cleverly in. To surprise him.
She hadn't meant to eat him alive.
Then he stopped where the ground was soft and flipped the blanket down. And she was very much afraid she wouldn't be able to stop herself.
"Tell me something, Lawyer MacKade."
He looked over the blanket at her where she stood, hip shot out, chin angled, eyes full of power and sex. He'd have chewed through glass to get to her. "What's that?"