Roping the Wind by Kate Pearce Read Free Book Online Page A

hand down until his middle finger delved between her butt cheeks. He rubbed on the seam of her pants, pressing the soft fabric into the gathering wetness, stimulating her clit.
    As the pressure increased, Helen kept her gaze fixed in front of her. Was it possible to have an orgasm from just being stroked? She wasn’t too keen to test the theory in the lobby of a public restaurant, but when she tried to move away, Jay brought his arm around her hips and held her exactly where he wanted her.
    She let Jay talk to the maître d’, his matter-of-fact tone at odds with his continual stroking and the storm of feeling he was creating low in her stomach. When he took her hand and led her toward the bar area, she almost stumbled, her knees felt so weak.
    He found them seats at the bar and settled his large frame on the small steel stool with athletic ease. Helen managed to order a martini and then found herself simply staring at Jay’s face.
    He held up his beer. ‘Here’s to us.’
    She tried to smile. ‘We’re a couple now?’
    He grinned, that slow lazy smile which screamed danger. ‘If we want to be. Or what do you prefer? Fuck buddy? Friends with benefits?’
    She shuddered. ‘Anything sounds better than couple.’
    He leant forward until their heads were almost touching. ‘I like coupling.’
    She took a sip of her drink. ‘You are incorrigible.’
    ‘What the hell does that mean?’
    Helen raised an eyebrow. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know. I’ve been reading your file. Among the papers was your school record.’
    He shrugged and drank half his beer. ‘I was just dumb enough to bail out of school at sixteen. I wanted to be a cowboy.’
    Helen could sympathize. She knew all about being stupid at sixteen. ‘A cowboy with an IQ of a hundred and forty.’
    ‘So?’
    ‘So don’t pretend to be stupid.’
    He caught her hand and pressed it to the front of his jeans. ‘I may not be too smart but I’m good with my hands.’ He gave her an exaggerated wink. ‘And other parts of my anatomy.’
    She deliberately dug her nails into the fabric until he caught his breath. ‘Why do you turn every conversation back to sex?’
    He took her hand and placed it firmly back in her lap. ‘Because when I’m with you, it’s all I can think about.’
    Helen forgot to breathe as he held her gaze.
    ‘I keep wishing you’d worn that skirt because right now I’d have my hand between your thighs and I’d be circling your clit with the tip of my finger, feeling your cream on my skin, hoping to make you come right in front of everyone.’
    Her hand tightened around her martini glass. She couldn’t look away from the storm gray of his eyes. The last time she’d felt this overloaded with sexual desire had been in her teens. And look where that had led her – straight into marriage.
    ‘Jay –’
    His attention shifted to a presence over her shoulder as the maître d’ announced their table was ready. Helen tried to shake off the sensation of being caught in a gradually tightening sensual trap. She wasn’t sixteen anymore. She was quite capable of calling a halt to the proceedings whenever she wanted to.
    Jay waited until she sat down at the window table and then followed suit, sitting alongside her, edging his chair closer. He stretched out his booted feet until they touched hers.
    ‘What were you going to say before the guy interrupted us?’
    Helen stared at him. What could she say? Stop turning me on? Stop making me think of rumpled sheets and sweaty bodies and sex that goes on for days? She dropped her gaze to the cutlery on the table and rearranged it into a neat square. Jay reached out and trapped her hand under his.
    ‘Helen, if we’re going to have sex together – and we are going to have sex together – how about we try for a little honesty between us as well?’
    ‘I thought this was all about fantasy.’ She forced herself to meet his gaze. His smile made her feel even more off-kilter.
    ‘Hell, yeah, but