Texas Outlaws: Billy. Kimberly Raye

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СКАЧАТЬ moaned and her body convulsed around him and he knew she’d tumbled over the edge. He buried himself deep one last time and followed. He held her tight and relished the way her inner muscles milked him.

      Finally, his hold loosened and he collapsed onto his back. He reached for her, tucking her against his body and losing himself in the frantic pounding of his heart.

      Fear hammered at the edges of his brain, but he wasn’t going to let it in. Not just yet.

      There would be plenty of time later to beat himself up over the fact that he’d lost control for a few precious seconds and, in the process, violated every promise he’d ever made to himself when it came to women and sex.

      Plenty of time.

      But right now... Right now he just wanted to close his eyes and hold her close. Just for a little while.

      * * *

      GET UP. THAT’S what Sabrina told herself the minute she heard the soft snores coming from the man next to her.

      Get up.

      Get out.

      Get moving.

      While she didn’t have to worry about alarming Livi if she failed to make it out of Billy’s room before daybreak—she and Livi had opted to get separate rooms since they were splitting up most of the time to work more territory—she’d still promised to meet her first thing in the morning for breakfast.

      Even more, she had a column to finish for one of the blogs she regularly wrote for. The name of the column? “Oh, No, She Didn’t.” It was a weekly tell-all on female celebrities and their outlandish behavior that she penned for a tabloid website out of Los Angeles. A far cry from CNN or Fox News, but the site paid a small fee per word and at least she was actually getting paid to write something. Heaven knew she had a stack of journalism pieces she’d written on spec that would never see the light of day. Commentaries on the state of the nation, a story on the outrageous salaries paid by the L.A. County Water Department, and even a twenty-page analysis on the anti-gluten craze. Anything she’d felt might draw some interest, she’d penned and sent in to every newspaper and website she could think of. And the most she’d gotten back was a few comments saying her writing was good, but they needed material that was groundbreaking. A fresh angle. A cutting edge story that would sell copy. And so she’d stuck with her one sure writing gig—the column for the tabloid site. A paycheck, however small, at least made her dream seem legitimate, even if it didn’t pay the bills.

      She thought of the bank robbery that had put Lost Gun on the proverbial map. The story had been big news back in the day, but she didn’t know nearly as much as she needed to in order to start thinking about an angle. An easy fix, of course, thanks to Google. A few articles would put her up to speed and maybe spark some ideas for a new look at the story. But first she needed facts.

      Who? What? When? Where?

      Billy’s arms tightened around her and suddenly the last thing she wanted to do was spend the rest of her night chained to her computer, checking facts or slogging another story about yet another actress who’d ditched rehab and gone on a party spree.

      No, what she really wanted was to stay right here and snuggle down into the warmth wrapped around her.

      All the more reason to get up.

      The last thing she needed was to fall asleep and risk an awkward morning after. While she’d fallen out of practice thanks to her change of heart, she’d still had enough one-night stands to know that she didn’t want to get stuck facing Billy Chisholm the morning after.

      She had no doubt he would tell her thanks and hit the road faster than she could blink. He’d made his intentions crystal clear, and so had she. She didn’t want more. At least, not from him.

      Now if he’d been any other man...

      Maybe a bank executive or a photojournalist or anyone but a Stetson-wearing bull rider. Then she might have thought about getting to know him.

      But she already knew more than enough.

      Billy Chisholm wasn’t her type.

      She knew that, but with him so close, the scent of sexy male filling her head, she had the gut feeling that she wouldn’t be all that happy to see him go.

      The thought struck and she gave herself a mental kick. She didn’t have to think about him walking out because she intended to walk out first.

      Soon.

      At the same time, it had been such a long day and she really was worn out. Exhausted. Might as well take advantage of the warmth and close her eyes for just a few seconds. A cat nap.

      Then she was up and out of there.

      Guaranteed.

      5

      “WHERE THE HELL are you?” Livi’s frantic voice carried over the line the minute Sabrina answered her cell phone. “You’re not hurt, are you? Oh, crap, you’re not dead, are you?”

      “Yes, and I’m speaking to you from the hereafter.”

      “Very funny. Seriously, I all but freaked when I woke up this morning and realized you hadn’t come back to the motel room.”

      “Morning?” Sabrina blinked against the blinding light pouring through the open curtains, and panic seeped through her. It was morning.

      She’d slept with Billy Chisholm.

      Slept slept.

      There’d been no creeping out before dawn. No “Thanks, but gotta go.” Or “I really appreciated it, but have a nice life.” No, she’d snuggled right up next to him and closed her eyes and now the sun was up and she was late.

      “So?” Livi’s voice pushed past the panic beating at her senses. “How was it?”

      “How was what?” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was eight-thirty in the morning. Not only had she fallen asleep, but she’d slept past her usual 7:00 a.m. And all because of a man.

      A cowboy.

      “Did you get lucky?”

      More like unlucky. Of all the available men in town—the reporters and the out-of-town fans—she’d hooked up and fallen asleep with a homegrown, certified, grade A cowboy.

      “Well?” Livi prompted.

      “I really need to go.”

      A thought seemed to strike and her friend’s voice rose an octave. “You’re not still with him, are you?”

      Was she?

      Her gaze ping-ponged around the room, looking for boots or clothes or something before stalling on the open bathroom door. She strained her ears for some sound, but there was no water running. No footsteps. Just the distant sound of a vacuum cleaner humming from a few rooms down.

      “Of course not.” She ignored the disappointment that niggled at her, pushed the blankets to the side СКАЧАТЬ