“Me? Why me? I thought I was the one who kept getting you in trouble,” she pointed out.

  “You do keep getting me in trouble,” he conceded with a small half-smile. “Funny, but I seem to be getting used to it.”

  She rolled her eyes, thinking women weren’t the only ones who possessed mercurial personalities. Ryder seemed to change his mind at least as often as she did.

  “So we’ll think of something,” he told her.

  “Like what?” Pitching her voice an octave higher, she batted her eyelashes in her best impression of a sultan’s houri. “Matt, darling, I know you left me at the altar and I’ve been hounding you ever since, but would you mind signing this itty-bitty little paper so I can take my money back from your secret account?”

  The other corner of his mouth tilted up, but he only shrugged, unaffected by her dramatic display. “I’m sure we can come up with something less obvious than that. Pop’s hurt. If you need a signature, maybe we can get Matt to sign a get-well card for him—from all of us.”

  “Ohmigosh, yes.” Monica’s eyes widened as she rushed forward, gripping his forearms with excitement. “Oh, Ryder, that’s perfect! And I’m an excellent tracer. We’ll get him to sign a card for your dad and then I’ll copy his name.”

  “Whoa, now,” he said, moving his hands to her waist and drawing her a tiny bit closer. “You may be getting ahead of yourself. We don’t know yet what your friend might need.”

  “I know, but if we do need Matt’s signature, that is a brilliant way to get it!” She cocked her head to the side and grinned. “You know, for a cowboy, you’re kind of good at this cloak and dagger stuff.”

  “Cowboys are good at a lot more than just herding cattle, you know.” His hands drifted from her waist to her backside and pulled her close. “Care to give me a proper thank you for my ingenuity?”

  Her eyes locked with his as exhilaration faded and a whole other sensation swept through her. She licked her lips and swallowed before trying to speak. “What would you consider a proper thank you?”

  A grin split the hard lines of his face, and his grip on her butt tightened until she was flush with his body, her breasts pressed flat against the hard wall of his chest. “I was thinking maybe we could pick up where were left off in Hawaii. You know, kind of finish our honeymoon.”

  His head dipped and his lips touched hers, warm and strong and inviting. She tried to calm the erratic beat of her heart, but the organ was already off on a drum solo that would put Van Halen to shame, and Ryder’s tongue was doing the wickedest things to her own.

  Her eyes drifted closed on a sigh. Lord, she wanted him.

  Without breaking the kiss, he turned her so that she was leaning against the counter instead, and then lifted her to sit on its edge. His hands clamped down on her hips, and she felt the solid ridge of his arousal between her thighs. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she drew him closer. As close as two people could get with their clothes on.

  He groaned and ground his pelvis into her body. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, and then to rub his thumbs over the area of her nipples beneath the bra while his mouth moved to her cheek and along her jawline.

  She took a ragged breath, striving for some sort of sanity when all she really wanted to do was lie back and let Ryder touch her anywhere he could reach. But she made herself think. Made herself run through the repercussions of making love to this man, husband or no husband.

  “Wait.” She put her hands on his shoulder and levered away from him until his lips were no longer wreaking havoc with her hormones. She looked him in the eye and made sure he was cognizant enough to understand every word she said. “We may not be able to get an annulment if we do this, you know,” she said, her tone firm while her insides felt like Jell-O. “That whole ‘lack of consummation’ thing will be out the window.”

  Oh, she had no intention of turning him down if he was determined to seduce her. She was ready to race him to the bedroom at the word “Go!” But she wanted him to be as sure as she was before they did something they could never undo.

  A spark of something almost predatory leaped into his eyes as he leaned in and licked a particularly sensitive spot at the base of her throat that made her body go tight. “So we’ll get a divorce instead.”

  And then he lifted the edge of her shirt and pulled the whole thing up and over her head in one quick motion, causing the hibiscus flowers dangling from her ears to rattle. The top disappeared somewhere over his shoulder as he pressed back against her, the thin material of his shirt rubbing against the stiff lace of her bra.

  She chuckled and wrapped her arms back around his neck. “You’ve done this before,” she said.

  His laugh was low, gravelly, and knowing. “A couple of times, yeah.”

  He let his fingers trace the edge of her bra, then move in slowly decreasing circles toward the centers of her breasts. Soon his hands were on her skin, nudging the fabric out of his way. When he slipped a finger beneath the edging to touch one puckered, tightening nipple, she moaned low in her throat and arched her back. Then, before he could make a move to do it, she reached behind her and flipped the hook of the bra, letting the straps and material fall away from her arms and breasts.

  “God, yes,” he whispered in a harsh tone, and then wrapped his hands over her bare flesh.

  “Since you’ve done this before,” she managed, almost undone by the soft stroking of his hands on her flesh and his lips trailing a hot, moist path down her neck, “I assume you have a condom tucked away somewhere for just such an occasion.”

  That stopped him cold. In a single breath, he went from teasing and tormenting to standing ramrod straight and staring at her like a baseball fan who’d just gotten thwacked on the head with a home run ball.

  Monica sat back in surprise, bringing her hands up to cover her bare breasts. “What?” she asked.

  “Shit.” The lines on his face deepened as he scowled, and his fingers clamped into her hips. “Shit, shit, shit,” he muttered, banging his forehead softly against hers.

  Her eyes widened with surprise. “You’ve got to have some in your bathroom,” she said, her tone thick with disbelief.

  He was a hot, sexy, single, and very virile guy…no way did he not have condoms on hand, just in case. Even she carried one in her purse and a couple in her camera bag…just in case. And if she’d only asked Brooke to ship her equipment before they got back from Hawaii, she would even now have Ryder inside her and be screaming his name.

  His mouth twisted. “I think I have one in the truck.”

  She was already hopping down from the counter and the comfortable perch she’d made of his body. “I’ll check the bathroom, you check your truck,” she said, passing out instructions like she’d been reincarnated from a drill sergeant.

  “I’ll meet you back here.” He pulled her up snug against him and gave her a long, deep, wet kiss.

  Her knees nearly buckled from the feel of his tongue alone. And then he released her and started outside. “Hurry,” she whispered raggedly.

  He stopped at the front door and shot her a hundred-watt smile. “I’m the wind, darlin’.”

  She watched him go, then laughed at his parting words, as well as their current situation. Who would have thought that after agonizing for days over whether they should or shouldn’t sleep together, their final decision would be done in by the Search for the Holy Latex?

  Grabbing her discarded clothing from the floor, she shrugged into the shirt, sans bra, and ran back to the master bedroom. She hit the drawer of Ryder’s nightstand first…because wasn’t that the most logical place for a guy to keep his condoms?

  Apparently not.

  Moving to the bathroom, she looked in the medicine cabinet, under the sink, and then in each drawer of the vanity, tossing aside extra razor blades, Band-Aids, and all kinds of other personal items. Finally her fingers bumped into a small foil packet at the back of the very last drawer that she prayed wasn’t a sample of Tylenol. Unless Ryder couldn’t find a condom, either, in which case, they’d probably both need an aspirin.

  She yanked it out and sent a little prayer of thanks heavenward. The Holy Grail. Yes!

  Pushing herself to her feet, she raced down the hall.

  Only to meet Ryder coming in from outside.

  “Found one!” they cried out at the same time, holding up their treasure like a battle flag.

  Ryder was on her in a nanosecond, pushing the open blouse off again over her shoulders and steering her backward toward the bedroom while her fingers loosened the buttons of his shirt. His mouth fused with hers, and they kissed harder and deeper with each step. His feet danced as he tried to avoid stepping on her sandal-clad toes, then they hit his bedroom doorway, and he simply picked her up by the waist and carried her the rest of the way into the room.

  She fell back on the bed where he dropped her and began pushing her shorts down over her hips while he struggled with his boots. One after the other, they fell to the floor with a clunk. Then he shrugged out of his shirt and moved to the waistband of his jeans.

  Already naked and more impatient than she’d have ever imagined, Monica scooted forward on the mattress and pushed his hands aside. “Let me.” She undid the button and then moved to the zipper, slowly sliding it down over the pressing bulge of his arousal.

  His eyes drifted closed at the sensation, and she watched him more than what she was doing. Once the zipper was completely down, she slipped her hands into the waistband of the jeans and slid them, cotton boxers and all, down over his buttocks and legs. He kicked them away from his feet and looked down at her, his erection standing strong and proud in front of her face, saluting like a private to a four-star general.

  She didn’t wait for him to ask or make another move toward her, but put her hand at the base of his penis and her lips to its very tip. The breath rushed out of his lungs as her tongue swept around the crest like it was a lollipop. She didn’t know if Ryder had expected her to shy away from this or not, but he looked infinitely pleased with her decision.

  Some women didn’t like oral sex, she knew. Most men loved it, at least the BJ variety. And so did she. She loved the pleasure it gave her partner, the feel of that steel-hard length of man in her mouth. And she loved the fact that most men, after receiving a little TLC themselves, tended to repay the favor.

  Ryder’s fingers sifted through the short strands of her hair while she worked her mouth down the length of his penis, then back up, taking the whole thing into her mouth. She continued to roll her tongue around the soft skin, at the same time gently sucking. And while one hand remained at the base of his erection, her other explored the curve of his hip, down his thigh, into the area between his leg and scrotum. He sucked in a harsh breath when she palmed the delicate sack and began gently kneading. And then his hands tensed on the back of her head, and he forced her away. His hot gaze burned into hers as he looked down at her.

  “You’re very good at that, sweetheart,” he said with a soft smile.

  Monica stood, his hands falling from her hair to her shoulders. “City girls are good at a lot more than just hailing cabs, you know,” she retorted, throwing his earlier words back at him and then wrapping her arms around his neck.

  As they kissed, he lowered them both to the bed, his hands skimming every inch of her body. She reached out, fumbling around on the comforter for the condoms they’d both dropped. Her fingers closed over one of the packets, and she struggled to open it behind his back, not wanting to concentrate too hard on anything but the feel of Ryder’s lips and caress. Once the condom was open, he sat back a bit and began to take it from her, but she stopped him.

  “Uh-uh,” she said, pulling it out of his reach.

  Amusement lit his eyes. “You just want to be in charge of everything tonight, don’t you?”

  She pushed out from under him and rolled to her knees on the mattress, moving back toward the headboard. Ryder followed slowly.

  “Yep. I’m gonna ride you hard and put you up wet.” She had no idea where she’d heard that before, but it sounded like cowboy lingo. And from the looks of it, Ryder appreciated the terminology. A grin split across his face and, if possible, his erection grew even larger.

  “Is that right?” he asked, stalking her now.

  She nodded weakly, her mouth dry, as he moved across the bed like a panther tracking prey, a wicked glint in his eyes. The bedframe banged against the wall as he pressed his body flush against hers, his hands running from her upper arms to her wrists. He held them against the wall while he stared into her eyes, the light hairs on his chest rubbing against the raw, sensitive tips of her breasts.

  And then he released her and plopped back on the bed, fluffing the pillows behind his head as he lay there in all his naked glory. With his arms propped behind his head, he twisted his face to shoot her a devilish grin. “Saddle up, sugar. This is gonna be the ride of your life.”

  “Arrogant oaf,” she muttered.

  But she said it as she straddled his body, seating herself on his knees so that she could lean forward and apply the condom—with her teeth.

  …

  When Ryder saw what she meant to do, he drew in a sharp breath. Shit! She already had him harder and more turned on than he’d ever been in his life. Did she really think she needed to tease him with parlor tricks for a good lay? If things got any better, he’d be taking the trip alone—and he didn’t like that idea any more than he thought Monica would. He started to say something, warn her that she was treading on thin ice, but she only smiled, the off-white rubber dangling lightly from between her teeth.

  Leaning forward, she dropped it on the head of his arousal, then licked a path all the way around its rolled bottom as she fastened it more firmly with her fingertips. And each time she smoothed the latex down a fraction of an inch, she first had to kiss and lick and nibble the spot.

  Not that Ryder had a mind to complain. He clutched big handfuls of bedspread on either side of his body while his chest heaved for air and groans of pleasure rolled out of him one on top of another. But he’d have to be chopped up into little pieces and cooked over a spit before he’d ask her to stop.

  He’d just about had enough—thought he was about to shoot right up off the bed and stick to the ceiling—when she reached the base of his penis, finished covering him with the condom, and gave the spot an extra flick just for effect. When she stopped touching him, Ryder took his first full breath since she’d begun. Then he opened his eyes.

  Monica was perched on his legs, smiling like she’d just won the lottery. Which she was about to, if he had anything to say about it.

  “Damn, darlin’. You sure know how to make a man sing for his supper.”

  One side of her mouth lifted in a smile.

  He leaned forward to grab her arms, and she scooted farther up his body, until his throbbing length rested against the soft curve of her mound. Her breasts hung before him like a gift from the gods while her hands fell flat on his chest. His eyes narrowed, and he concentrated hard on her face so the feel of her heat against his groin wouldn’t be quite so noticeable.

  Yeah, just like a guy with two dicks wouldn’t be noticeable in the locker room, he thought wryly.

  “But you know what this means, don’t you?” He pulled her down until their mouths were a mere whisper apart.

  She shook her head and leaned into him, her hands moving to fold over his shoulders.

  “It means I’m going to have to make you scream.”

  His mouth opened and all but devoured her soft, sweet lips. She felt like cotton candy and Kentucky bourbon all rolled into one. And he wanted to be inside her. Now. Enough of this fooling around.

  He slid his palms over her breasts and waist and gripped the swells of her buttocks, pressing her down against his arousal. And then he lifted her, ready to pierce her hot core.

  “Time to ride,” he whispered.

  But before he could move her down to surround him, she sat up, looking at him with wide eyes.

  “Oh, wait a minute,” she said. And then she bolted across the room and out the bedroom door.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sometimes, you just need to take the bridle off, throw the skillet away, and let the cougar scream.

  She disappeared through the door, and it took him a minute to move. But when he did, he was across the room in a shot, his arousal waning a bit but still covered in her expertly applied condom. He had to go after her, not only because she’d left in the middle of something very, very important, but because she was traipsing around naked as a newborn calf.

  He wrenched the door open, prepared to barrel down the hall, only to find her strolling in his direction from the front of the house. His good black Stetson—the same one she’d stolen, then showered with—was clutched in her right hand, brushing the side of her leg as she walked.

  “What are you doing?” he asked suspiciously. He’d never claimed to be an expert on women, and in this case, he was at a complete loss.

  She slapped the hat on her head and put a hand to his chest to push him back into the room. “I needed my hat. It’s not safe to ride without the proper equipment,” she quipped.

  He couldn’t help it—he laughed. He let her push him backward until his calves hit the edge of the bed, and he was still laughing. Then he let her push him onto the mattress.

  “Scoot back,” she told him.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He offered her a little salute. Well, he’d been saluting her all evening, but this time, he actually used his hand.

  She grinned as she knee-walked her way to straddling him once again. “I like compliance,” she said. “It’s very important for a mount to obey its master.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said again. She was up near his chest this time, and he was able to reach out and grasp her elbows, bringing her face closer to his own. “I do have to warn you of one thing, though,” he said softly.

  “What’s that?”