Falling For Fortune. Nancy Robards Thompson
the emotions involved, although admittedly they were brewing under the surface.
But right now, all he could think about was how lovely and alluring Amber was, dressed in that sexy red satin and looking at him as though she was feeling every bit as aroused and tempted as he was.
He reached out and unpinned her hair, allowing it to fall along her bare shoulders and down her back. She smiled, then scooped her soft curls aside and turned so he could unzip her costume. He took a moment to linger, to inhale her peach blossom scent and to graze his fingers along her skin.
Finally, he reached for the zipper. As the garment opened and slipped to the ground, she turned to face him wearing a black strapless bra and matching panties. His breath caught. The cowgirl had morphed into a goddess, a sight to behold.
Her body, curvaceous yet lithe, was everything he’d imagined it to be and more.
Talk about fantasies coming to fruition. But for the life of him, this was one fantasy he never wanted to end.
* * *
As Jensen drew Amber back into his arms and claimed her with a heated kiss, she leaned into him, ready to give him all she had to offer—and to take whatever he was willing to give.
If the kisses they’d shared had been a sample of what was to come, making love with Jensen was going to be magical—memorable. Yet it wasn’t just a sexual act. Not as far as she was concerned.
He ran his hand along the curve of her back and down the slope of her hips, then pulled her hips forward, against his erection, letting her know how badly he wanted her. A surge of desire shot clear to her core, and she pressed back against him, revealing her own need.
When she thought she was going to die from the ache of her arousal, she ended the kiss long enough to unsnap her bra and let it drop to the straw-covered floor.
“I knew you were beautiful under that denim and flannel, but I had no idea you were so...stunning, so perfect.” He reached for her breasts, his thumbs skimming her nipples and sending her senses reeling.
She knew better than to think about concepts like forever when they only had tonight—or perhaps a few more like this. But everything about Jensen and what they were doing seemed so right.
When she feared her knees would no longer hold her up, he scooped her in his arms and carried her to the quilt. Then he dropped to one knee and gently lay her down. A true knight—with or without the official royal title.
He studied her for a moment, passion glazing his eyes, then he proceeded to remove his shirt, baring himself to her. When he was undressed, and she caught the full sight of him, the sheer beauty of his chiseled chest and abs, she scolded herself for ever thinking polo wasn’t a serious sport. The man was well-muscled perfection, and she wanted to pull him down to her so they could start kissing right where they’d left off.
“I hope you don’t think I came here planning to do this tonight, but I did bring some protection along with me.”
“If I’d known this was going to happen, I would have had fresh linen, rose petals and candles.”
“I’m glad you didn’t think of candles. I can’t imagine how we would have explained a barn fire, especially if the news reached the Cross Town Crier.”
She laughed. “And then the paparazzi would have had a real heyday with that.”
“They might have said our scorching hot affair had set the quilt on fire.”
“Think we should risk it?” she asked.
“I might spontaneously combust if we don’t.”
She laughed, then opened her arms. He joined her, and they continued to kiss, to taste, to stroke each other, skin to skin. As her thumb brushed across his nipple, he sucked in a breath.
For a moment, her feminine confidence, which had been soaring through the roof only moments ago, waffled. “I’m sorry my hands aren’t as soft as the other women you’ve—”
He grabbed her by the wrists and gave them a firm squeeze, his gaze locking on hers with an intensity that stilled her voice, her thoughts and even her fears. “Your skin and hands are perfect, Amber. And your work ethic is one of the things I find most attractive about you. Don’t ever apologize for that. Your touch stimulates me in a way I’ve never experienced.”
“You aren’t just pulling my leg?”
His expression softened, and a smile tugged at his lips. “I meant what I said about tangling with you earlier, so I might tug your legs a bit before the evening is over. But all translations aside, your hands are exquisite.”
Then he kissed all her insecurities away until she was drowning in need. After he slipped on the condom, he entered her. And as her body responded to his, as their tempo increased until there was no one else in the world but the two of them, it seemed that they were in that magical castle she’d always imagined this old barn to be.
This wasn’t Amber’s first time making love, but it certainly felt like it. Jensen was an amazing lover—no doubt experienced with all the “dalliances” she’d read about, the women he’d dated all over the world.
But she wouldn’t think about that now. Not while he was doing such amazing things, making her body move and arch, releasing far more than an uninhibited sexuality she hadn’t realized she had. He was triggering emotions she’d only dreamed of feeling.
As his tempo increased, she raised her hips to meet him, feeling as though she was on a sexual roller coaster, her heart racing, her pulse spiking. She went up and up, then raced down and around.
She was in and out of control, yet breathlessly anticipating each and every unexpected jolt and turn. And as she reached a peak, she cried out and let go. Jensen shuddered with his release, and they came together in an earth-rumbling, soul-soaring climax she would never forget.
As she held him close, enjoying the ebb and flow of the most amazing afterglow, she was reluctant to release her hold because making love with Jensen had been a ride to beat all rides.
And since she’d just come to realize that she didn’t want to settle for a temporary affair, this was one carnival ride that was bound to break her heart in the end.
* * *
Jensen didn’t dare breathe, let alone move.
He wasn’t anywhere near as sexually experienced as the tabloids reported him to be, but he’d certainly been with worldly women before—and in some rather glamorous locations, including five-star hotel suites, Scottish castles and more than one Italian villa. So needless to say, a Texas barn was a first.
But if he was to compare making love with Amber in a hayloft to the rest, the other ladies and bedrooms would pale.
Whether in denim and flannel or red satin and black lace, Amber Rogers had a way of rocking his world. And in this case, she’d certainly pulled the proverbial rug out from under his feet.
Not to take Texas colloquialisms too far, but how in blue blazes had she done that?
The mutual desire had been a large part of it, sure. When she’d cried out with her climax, he’d released with her in a sexual explosion that had him seeing stars, in spite of the fact that they weren’t out in the open and that there was an old wooden roof overhead.
He rolled to the side, yet he continued to hold her close, reluctant to let her go. He didn’t have to ask how it was for her. He’d felt it in her touch, heard it in her sighs.
They lay like that for the longest time, sated and...well, amazed was a pretty good description.
He feared the questions that might follow, things like, Where shall we go from here?
Because, in reality, whatever they’d shared this evening couldn’t really go anywhere other than here in Horseback Hollow. As fond as he’d grown of Amber, as much as he’d like to spend every waking hour he had with