Page 59 of Wild and Wanted

Stevie swallowed, a lump rising in her throat. Clay Calhoun may well have a pretty line or two up his sleeve but she didn’t think he was spinning one now, and her heart cracked wide open.

Whoever else he may have been with, she was one of a kind.

‘For what it’s worth,’ she murmured, holding his gaze, ‘I’ll never forget you either.’

He nodded slowly and they stared at each other for long moments before Clay smiled and said, ‘Okay, well, now that’s established it’s your turn.’

Stevie was about to protest – the game had already veered into dangerous territory and she had no desire to see where it would go next, but Clay continued. ‘I think you should chose dare this time.’

The gleam in his eyes almost stopped her breath. ‘Really?’

‘Uh huh.’ The hand that had been propping his jaw slid to the hem of her skirt where it lay mid-calf, and Stevie watched the slow trek of his thumb as it brushed lazily against her leg. ‘It’s a good one.’

Heat licked between her legs in sync with his thumb, reminding Stevie she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Something she’d temporarily forgotten during their conversation about his sexual experience. Lifting her eyes, she met his again. ‘Alright then, dare.’

His triumphant smile did nothing for the heat situation. ‘Pull up your skirt,’ he said, his voice a pit of gravel. ‘I want to look at you.’

Stevie bit back a moan and squeezed her legs together as hot streaks of desire undulated through her belly muscles. ‘You want to look?’ she asked, her voice shaky with sudden daring. ‘You do it.’

She had no idea where that came from but she could tell by the flicker in his eyes that her assertiveness wasn’t a bad thing.

‘Bossy.’ He grinned. ‘I like it.’

Clay’s thumb stopped playing as their eyes locked and his hand moved steadily up her leg, taking the hem of the skirt with him. Up, up, up to her knee and on to her thigh, his fingers spreading wide as they revealed more and more of her legs to the warmth of the dappled sunlight overhead.

Up, up, up past the crease where her groin met her torso, her legs fully exposed now. Up, up, up, the fabric hitching higher until she was bare to him and he was looking his fill, his fingers absently stroking the sensitive strip of flesh where the band of her underwear would normally have sat.

Stevie’s breath stopped in her lungs as he inspected her like it was his job and he was the world’s foremost expert. But there was nothing… gynaecological about it – it was excruciatingly intimate and so damn hot.

Her cheeks flamed and it took all she had not to put her hand in front of herself, not to hide away from the sticky web of desire in his heavy-lidded gaze. She’d never been this naked with a guy. Hell, no other guy had even caught a glimpse of her panties.

And then last night – gah, was it only last night? – Clay had slid his fingers into her underwear and stroked her to orgasm.

The memory of it on the back of her intimate contact with the saddle undulated through her belly and Stevie almost moaned at the erotic swirl of sensation. She clamped down on the urge to rotate her hips and arch her back because it seemed far too… brazen – especially while he was looking at her like that.

Like he wanted to devour her.

What had he said? He wanted to show her how this cowboy likes to eat, and now that was running on a loop through her head.

The longer he stared the more the tension ratcheted up, and she’d give anything for some relief. Her nipples were pebble hard and she curled her fingers into the blanket each side to stop herself from flattening her palms against them to ease the ache. How was it possible for her entire body to throb just from him staring?

Clearly, she hadn’t needed the saddle at all when his undivided attention was having such a galvanising effect. Was it actually possible to climax without being touched? From just the intensity of his gaze? Just the… anticipation of his touch?

Because the truth was, with her body one giant throb, Stevie was a hair trigger away from an orgasm.

‘Mm-mm,’ he hummed finally, before lifting his eyes. ‘So pretty, Stevie girl.’

Pretty? Stevie had never thought of down there as pretty. It was tidy thanks to her earlier grooming – thank Jesus – and… functional. But then she’d never stared at herself quite as hard as Clay had just done and he was the connoisseur, not her.

‘Open your legs.’

The silky demand slithered like a serpent through her belly, her internal muscles clenching, her breath leaving her throat in a nervous rasp. The idea of it was shocking but also titillating. She just wasn’t sure she could actually go through with it.

Couldn’t he just take over now?

But the hot, steady hold of his gaze was uncompromising. He wasn’t letting her off the hook. If she wanted this then she was going to have to claim it. Clay Calhoun was offering her the sexual experience of her life and she was a grown woman and she wanted it.

No, not it, she wanted him. She wanted his head between her legs, his tongue on her, introducing her to something she’d only ever read about in romance novels.