Jack Duval, country lawyer and bastard son of the Caden patriarch, first discovers rancher Liz Wolfe when he goes after her to spite his father. Soon, though, he learns she’s the submissive partner of his wildest fantasies…But rustlers and murderers interrupt their hot BDSM play, and Jack must reveal a pair of secrets that may tear the two apart before he and Liz can move on to the next step toward happily ever after.
Here's an excerpt that tells a lot about the two as they're preparing to have sex the first time. They've just come to his house from the wedding of Jack's half-brother.
Liz didn’t understand why Jack had sat her down on the black leather sectional sofa that dominated his living room and immediately excused himself to fix snacks she doubted either of them could eat. She was stuffed from the sumptuous three-course meal they’d eaten at the wedding reception and her head was still buzzing. No doubt she’d had too much of the free-flowing Moët champagne while repeatedly toasting Bye and his bride.
Like Jack himself, his living room seemed conventional and scholarly, much like his law office above The Corral. Off-white walls and golden oak floors contrasted with the black sofa and black-and-chrome furniture. The few splashes of blood-red on a predominantly black abstract painting on one wall seemed out of character with the rest of the décor. The only other color was in a multicolored afghan draped over a lone, very old-looking straight chair against the wall.
Damn it to hell. She didn’t want Jack to be the dutiful host. She wanted him to take her to his bed and fuck her brains out.
It may have taken her a few dates to figure it out, but she knew now. She wanted the hot young lawyer who supposedly got his rocks off at the sex club called the Neon Lasso. She’d enjoy him as long as she could, even knowing he was more than she could expect to hold on to for more than a brief affair.
When she looked in the large mirror on the far wall, she confirmed the likelihood that was true. A woman who wasn’t ugly but was certainly no beauty stared back at her, reinforcing what she’d first realized when she was twelve years old. At five-eight then, she’d towered over everybody in their middle school class except her friend, Bye Caden, who’d already been over six feet tall. Since then she’d stopped growing up, but she’d never really lost her lanky, colt-like body and was still too tall to wear stilettos around ninety percent of the men she knew.
Including Jack. From a distance he’d looked tall as well as hot as hell with his arresting almost black eyes, strong nose and stubborn jaw. She’d first singled him out at The Corral a year or so ago because he wore his dark-brown hair in what she thought was called a high-and-tight. Shaved down to nothing but a dark shadow except for the horseshoe-shaped ring of crisp, slightly darker stubble around the crown of his perfectly shaped skull, it was as military-short as that of any Marine she’d ever seen on recruiting posters.
She liked the no-nonsense, take-charge look of that haircut, which looked out of place with his conventional suit and tie and the businesslike black briefcase he carried. Tell the truth, she’d been itching ever since that day to feel that intriguing, dark stubble against her skin so she could learn if it felt smooth or scratchy .
Jack obviously hadn’t noticed her at all back then. He hadn’t paid her an ounce of attention until a few months ago, when he’d surprisingly come on to her at the local watering hole and barbecue joint that was the only place to get a beer or something to eat in tiny Caden.
When he’d come up and stood beside her at the bar, she’d realized he wasn’t nearly as big as he’d looked from a distance. He stood maybe half an inch below six feet, only the height of a pair of modest heels taller than she was. That hadn’t mattered, though. He was still the hottest man she’d ever laid eyes on and he’d made it clear that when he was with her he’d be the one in charge. She needed a man to take charge in a relationship, since she was the one who’d had to call the shots at the Laughing Wolf since coming back from college six years ago.
She stared down at her pink ballet slippers. They weren’t the least bit sexy. She’d chosen them so she could look up at Jack. Men were supposed to get turned on when they felt strong and protective. Of course they were also supposed to get hot over big boobs and hourglass shapes, and she didn’t have either. The nicest compliment she’d ever been given was that she should have become a runway model, and nobody in her right mind would think those bags of bones were sexy. Liz sighed, crossed and uncrossed her legs and wondered when the hell Jack was coming back in here to let her down.
It was obvious to her that he’d had second thoughts about fucking her. Nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, she adjusted her pink chiffon skirt. It had looked so flirty on the model in the designer salon at Neiman Marcus when she’d bought it in Dallas last month, but had garnered her not one single compliment today.
“How about getting more comfortable? There’s a robe like this one on the hook in the powder room over there.” Jack had changed from his suit into a black silk kimono that reached halfway down muscular thighs dusted with short, black hair. It had red and gold embroidery on the back—a dragon, she thought.
She smiled when she noticed what looked like a raging hard-on tenting the thin material. Her mouth watered and she wondered if he was wearing anything at all underneath the kimono. So much for worrying that he’d decided he didn’t want to fuck her.
She stood and started toward the door he’d indicated, then she noticed the tray he’d set on the cocktail table held not conventional snacks but a couple of feathers, four neckties, a handful of wrapped condoms and a miscellaneous collection of bottles in various shapes and colors. One of the bottles caught her eye. It was a full honey bear with a red cap and a grin on its sassy, painted face. “What?”
“They’re flavor enhancers for the main course.” He sounded amused, as though he thought she might not have the vaguest idea what he meant by “main course”. She did, and her pussy tingled when she imagined him lapping the honey from it.
Imagining how that honey might taste when she licked it off the head of Jack’s cock, she smiled as she opened the bathroom door and saw the kimono he’d mentioned. “I’ll be right back.”
With trembling fingers, she unzipped her dress and let it drop to the floor. For a few seconds she hesitated, then she took off her bra and panties as well. I might as well live dangerously. It’s not as though I didn’t practically beg him to fuck me. Or as if I’ll be the only one of us who’s naked under skimpy black silk.
She belted the kimono around her waist and looked in the mirror. It barely covered her pussy. If she moved at all Jack would get an eyeful of her pubes. Oh well, he’d see them soon enough anyway. And her barely-there breasts. Sighing, she headed out of the bathroom, back to him.
Her fierce desire for sex with him trumped her fear that she wasn’t woman enough to grab him and hold on.
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Ann Jacobs
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