Two in the Saddle. Vicki Thompson Lewis
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still pull back and run away, still save herself if she just….
Too late. Ahhh…way too late. Way too good. The mouth of an angel…the tongue of a devil. Oh, yes.
Later she might regret this moment, but no woman could think of regret when a man was kissing her like this. He was delicious, tasting of wine and wedding cake and the wild, heady flavor of desire. And he knew what he was doing. Oh boy, did he know. Everyone had a special talent, and it seemed she’d just discovered his. She wrapped greedy arms around him and pulled him close, body to heated body, while his mouth worked magic on hers.
His kiss became a messenger, sending urgent signals to her breasts, her inner thighs, her throbbing womb. She grew taut, moist, ready. Resistance was a dim memory eclipsed by the glowing prospect of surrender.
He lifted his lips a fraction from hers. “Come home with me.”
Yes. She gasped for air so that she could give him an answer, the only possible answer now that he’d kissed her so thoroughly and left her body thrumming with need.
“Hey, is anybody still here?”
Travis released her immediately and they both turned as Sebastian walked into the tent.
Gwen’s cheeks warmed. She put more distance between her and Travis and clutched the bouquet in both hands to disguise how she was shaking.
Sebastian took one look at them and backed up a couple of steps. “Whoops. Sorry. We saw the lights were still on and Matty asked me to come out and check on the situation. Sorry.”
Travis cleared his throat. “We’ll, uh, make sure the lights are out when we leave.”
“I knew that,” Sebastian said, backing up into the shadows outside the tent.
“Didn’t suppose you’d be taking time to glance out the window on your wedding night,” Travis said.
His comment blew like a cool breeze through Gwen’s fevered brain. Matty and Sebastian were enjoying a wedding night, but all Travis had offered was an affair. That just wasn’t good enough.
“Elizabeth woke up and started fussing,” Sebastian said. “Listen, I’ll just go on back, okay? Travis, I’ll see you up at the house about eleven in the morning.”
“I’ll be there.”
“See you then. Sorry for the interruption.”
Gwen took a deep breath. “I’ll be going now, too, Sebastian. Maybe you’d be willing to walk me to my truck.” She headed for the entrance with a determined step.
“Sure,” Sebastian said. “But—”
“I’m sure Travis knows how to shut off the lights.”
“I do,” Travis said, “but I was hoping—”
“It’s been a long evening.” She glanced over her shoulder at him and forced herself to ignore the hard tug of sexual desire. “Good night, Travis.”
His gaze was hot enough to melt steel. “Good night, Gwen.”
He was darned potent. If Sebastian hadn’t been there, she might have forgotten her principles and run back into his arms. But Sebastian’s presence reminded her of what she really wanted from a man—forever. Tempting as he was, Travis didn’t fill the bill.
THE FOLLOWING NIGHT Travis sank into Sebastian’s old pine rocker and leaned his head back in complete exhaustion. Fleafarm, Sebastian’s mixed breed, and Sadie, Matty’s Great Dane, plopped at his feet.
Travis didn’t remember being this tired even after a day of branding. Babies were a hell of a lot of work, but there were compensations. Lizzie was a smart little dickens. In no time at all, he’d taught her to blow an outstanding raspberry.
Her new trick had been kind of a liability when he’d tried to feed her cereal tonight, but they’d had fun playing with the stuff. He’d let her paint his face with it until he looked like some undead character from a horror flick.
Then she’d needed a bath, and some time to play on the baby gym he’d bought her last week. And finally he’d given her a bottle, changed her diaper again, and tucked her into bed. She was asleep at last, and Travis wondered if he had enough energy left to fix himself a sandwich.
As he contemplated whether he’d take the time to eat or give up and crawl into bed, he thought about Gwen. He’d fully intended to do a quick follow-up with her this afternoon after he was settled into his baby-sitting routine. He’d figured he and Lizzie would pay a little afternoon social call to Hawthorne House and see if they could get invited for dinner.
His plan had fizzled. He’d spent the time Lizzie was sleeping running a load of baby clothes through the washer and dryer, and by the time she woke up from her nap it was time to check on the horses, feed the dogs, and feed Lizzie. Thank God Matty had moved her saddle horses up to the Rocking D, or he’d have run himself ragged going back and forth between her barn and Sebastian’s.
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