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He lowered himself until he was practically sitting on her lap, all the while continuing to move to the sensuous melody of “Come a Little Closer.” Then he dipped his head until Alice’s face was shadowed by the brim of his hat. He brushed his lips over her ear and whispered, “You make me crazy.”

Alice shivered. She was the one going crazy.

Slowly, Beau stood up, dragging his chest and belly so close to Alice’s lips that she could feel his heat. She wanted to taste him, so she brushed her lips against his skin. Beau shivered, and Alice kissed his flesh, sucking and licking as if he were a juicy peach.

She wanted to devour him.

Beau rose until she was staring at the fly of his jeans, which was perfectly framed by the chaps. He swiveled his hips, gyrating and yes . . . thrusting.

Every other guy she’d seen doing the thrusting pelvis move must have been doing it wrong. Because what Beau was doing was just plain right. In every way. In fact, it was utterly delightful, and when he slowed down, she dragged her hands down his thighs.

His hips stilled, and he tilted her chin up with a single finger. She looked up his long, lean, muscular torso to his mouth, which was set in a straight line. The upper half of his face was in the shadow of his hat.

He leaned down and brought his mouth to hers. He hesitated briefly, just touching her lips, and Alice nearly rose out of her seat. “Beau, I want you,” she whispered.

He crushed his lips against hers, lightly grasping her neck with one hand while tangling the other in her hair.

She never wanted this to end. If Beau pulled away, she’d—

He pulled away. And she had not had nearly enough. She wanted more.

“God. Look at you,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

Her lips felt swollen already, and her cheek was warm from his bristly stubble. Her hair must be a tangled mess. And Beau seemed to like it. A lot. His fingers trailed over the bulge in his jeans and then to the snap and zipper.

“What do you want, sweet thing?” he asked.

“You,” she said simply, reaching for his fly.

Beau stood still as she slowly slid the zipper down. Her fingers trembled. What was she supposed to do next? Just reach in and grab it?

“Let me help,” Beau said. He undid the button and pushed his underwear down. She could only see the back of his big hand as he lifted everything out, but then, when he took his hand away . . . There it was. Erect and pulsing slightly with the beat of his heart. Mesmerized, she slid her fingers along the shaft. The skin was so much softer and smoother than she’d imagined it would be. She longed to drag it across her cheek . . . across her lips. It was so very warm and she loved stroking it. But the best part about touching Beau’s penis was what it did to Beau.

His head dropped back and he lost his hat. He flexed his stomach muscles and balled his hands into fists. His breathing was ragged and loud. When he looked back at her, his eyes were pleading.

He gently pressed her toward him. She stuck out her tongue and touched the very tip of his penis, making him moan. “Oh, Allie. Please. Take me in your mouth.”

She did. He was warm and salty. All of her fears and insecurities about knowing what to do disappeared into thin air. She just did what she wanted . . . And she wanted to devour him. She licked. She sucked. She took as much of him in as she could manage. She was completely absorbed in the taste and feel of Beau Montgomery.

“Stop, Allie,” he said. “I don’t have the strength to pull away.”

He pulled her to her feet and enveloped her in another crushing kiss. He moaned as if he liked the taste of himself on her lips, broke the kiss, and said, “Allie, darlin’. Come to bed.”

Chapter

Thirty-Two

Alice lay on the bed surrounded by rose petals. The glow from the candlelight danced in her eyes. She looked like an angel, which made the fact that she’d just damn near tried to suck the life out of him all the hotter.

He kicked off his boots and dropped the vest. Then he unbuckled his chaps, causing them to fall in a heap at his feet. Last, but not least, he stepped out of his jeans and underwear. Alice kept her eyes glued to his cock the entire time, as if she couldn’t wait to get her hands—and mouth—on it again.

He was every bit as hungry as she was. Possibly more. But he had to slow down. He lay next to her, on his side, and ran a finger down her chest, between her breasts. He heard her breath hitch, but he kept going, stopping just above her pelvic bone. “Allie, I need you to tell me something.”

“Okay,” she said, reaching for his throbbing cock.

He took her hand and brought it up to his mouth, kissing her wrist. They needed to talk, and if she started giving him a hand job, conversation would be difficult.

“What is it?” she asked.

“I have to ask you a question.” He took a deep breath. “Are you a virgin?”

Alice sighed, as if that were a silly question. “I told you, virginity is a social construct.”

“Have you had sex before?”

“No,” she said quietly. “I’ve never done any of this before.”

“Any of it?”

Alice was already a little flushed, but now she turned scarlet. He’d embarrassed her, and he hadn’t meant to. But he was overwhelmed with emotion. Concern and empathy for Alice, but also a deep and gutting sense of responsibility. If he’d known she’d never touched a man’s penis before . . .

Damn. He wouldn’t have whipped it out and stuck