MisplacedCowboy by Mari Carr and Lexxie Couper Read Free Book Online Page A

to him. She
wasn’t that kind of friend. She wasn’t .
    Which is why she had to tell Dylan now he needed to find a
hotel. That was the smartest, safest course of action. As soon as he got off
the phone, she would help him find a hotel, call him a cab and maybe take him
out for breakfast tomorrow. Maybe.
    When he placed the phone on one of the tables beside him and
let out a ragged sigh, Monet swallowed again. She watched him stare out the
large window overlooking Central Park and lean one hand on its double-glazed
expanse, his other hand dragging through his hair. For a surreal moment Monet
wondered where his hat was, and then he was lifting his head and his gaze found
her in the window’s muted reflection.
    Oh boy.
    He turned to face her. “I finally reached home.”
    The statement was said with relaxed calm, but tension coiled
through him. Monet could see it in the way he stood, the stiffness of his
shoulders, the way he braced his legs apart.
    She nodded, walking into her studio before stopping at the
old sofa. “I heard.”
    “Annie’s safely in Australia.”
    “I gathered.”
    His jaw bunched. “Apparently she and my brother have hit it
off.”
    Monet’s pulse quickened. “Have they?”
    Dylan nodded. “Mum told me not to worry. To enjoy New York
while I’m here.”
    “Did she?” Monet blinked. “Wait. What? Who told you?”
    “Mum. I was talking to my mum.”
    Monet’s heart tripped over itself. She didn’t think it was
possible, but there it was. Her heart, already racing at a stupid pace, skipped
a beat. “Your mom? Your mom told you she loved you?”
    Dylan nodded again, his gaze unreadable.
    “And you told your mom you loved her back?”
    His dimple flashed in his right cheek. “I did. A bit wussy I
know, but hey, you caught me. My secret’s out. I’m a wuss.”
    Monet shrugged, her mouth dry. “Nothing wrong with a guy
telling his mom he loves—”
    Her woeful attempt at being flippant never finished. Dylan
destroyed the space between them in two long strides and crushed her lips with
a kiss of such hungry force, it was all she could do to hold on and kiss him
back.
    All she could do? No. She could tell him to stop. Could
remind him of Annie.
    “Dylan,” she panted, dragging her lips from his. “This is—”
    His mouth captured hers before the breathless protest could
pass her lips.
    Her head spun. She clung to him, fighting to remember whom
he was here for. Oh boy, the guy kissed like a demon.
    Oh boy oh boy oh—
    He hauled her off her feet. Just like that, as if she
weighed nothing, he scooped her up into his arms and threw her onto the sofa.
    She let out a little squeal, the sound silenced by his kiss
again. A kiss that worshiped her lips as his hands unbuttoned her shirt and
unclipped her bra.
    Oh boy.
    Her fingers stole to his shoulders, the hair on the nape of
his neck. She stroked her tongue over his, arching off the sofa in an attempt
to press her pussy to his groin. Oh God, she wanted him inside her.
    Now.
    “Dylan,” she breathed, pleasure lashing through her as he
dragged his mouth up to her ear, his teeth nipping at her earlobe. “Take…take
off your…”
    Clothes.
    The command finished in her head. A second before scalding
shame and guilt crashed over her.
    Hotter and more absolute than her lust.
    She froze, her fingers on Dylan’s shoulders. Oh God, what
was she doing ?
    Flattening her palms on his chest, she shoved. Hard.
    “Stop,” she gasped, squirming out from beneath him. “Stop,
we can’t.”
    She fell off the sofa, her knees thunking on the wooden
floor. The dull sound echoed through her apartment like a muffled gunshot.
    “Fuck. Oh fuck.”
    Dylan’s hoarse whisper jerked up her head and she stared at
him as she scrambled to her feet.
    He sat on the edge of the sofa, his expression beyond
shell-shocked. His eyes were squeezed shut, his fists were buried in his hair.
    “Fuck,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I’m
sorry, I didn’t