Again she pulled back on the reins and stopped her horse. “What’s sexier than a string bikini, Nathaniel?”
“Are you kidding me?” He reined in beside her. His voice grew quiet and serious. He rubbed a knuckle down her cheek, over her jaw, gazing into her dark eyes. “Denim turns me on. Long legs in jeans and boots astride a big horse, making him dance to subtle commands. A rough work shirt under a down vest, feeding a newborn foal with a bottle because the mare isn’t responding.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and said, “Silk, instead of cotton candy. A fire on a cold, snowy night. A woman in my arms, soft and content, happy with the same things that make me happy. Help making homemade pizza—that turns me on. A woman who knows how to deliver a calf when there’s trouble—that blows my horn. A woman who can muck out a stall and then fall into the fresh hay and let me fall right on top of her. I’d like to try that real soon.”
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