Slapping Leather by Desiree Holt Page A

and didn’t care. She held onto his wrists for dear life, anchoring
herself. She was so lost, drifting on an erotic current that swept away reason.
When he lifted his mouth from hers, her head was swimming and her bones had
turned to liquid.
    “Now that’s the reaction I was looking for.” Alex’s
voice was low, his drawl as thick as sorghum. “I think a little wine is in
order.” He kissed her eyelids and her cheeks, then took her hand and led her
unresistingly to the couch.
    She was still trying to pull her scattered wits
together when she found a full wine glass in her hands. Alex touched his to
hers gently, the sound a faint chime.
    “To us,” he said. “I hope.”
    Liz sipped at the amber liquid, taking her time
to collect herself. Her first instinct—to run like hell—didn’t seem to be an
option anymore. Alex took one of her hands in his, his thumb caressing the
knuckle, then lifted it to his mouth and licked it gently. Shivers skated down
her spine. When he dropped her hand and sat back on the couch, she felt as if
something vital was missing.
    “Let me start this,” he said. “We’re great at
Rawhide. Incredible. You don’t need me to tell you that. But Liz, you’re an
extraordinary woman who appeals to me on every level. I want more with you. I
want to strengthen this connection that I know you feel, too. And I don’t
believe it’s just the so-called keeping up appearances for your workers that’s
holding you back. If you don’t share my feelings, tell me now and we’ll be
done. But if you do, I want to know what’s going on here.”
    Liz took a healthy swallow of wine, needing the
liquid courage. She’d gotten herself into this corner. Now she had to decide if
she wanted out or not.
    Just let it out. If he’s
insulted, so be it. If he runs, he runs. But right now, you’re only hiding from
yourself.
    She dropped her gaze to her hands, hyperaware of
his fingers at her nape, stroking, soothing, feeling the infinite patience in
his posture. She drained her glass and held it out for a refill.
    Alex chuffed a little laugh. “Is it so bad you
have to get drunk to tell me?”
    “Maybe.” She still didn’t look at him. She waited
until he’d poured more of the amber liquid into the goblet, opened her mouth,
and just let it all roll out. Every pitiful detail. All of her humiliation.
    When she finished she waited for him to say
something, but he was silent, his fingers still stroking, easing. She was
almost afraid to look at him. Just at the moment when she was ready to jerk
away and head for the door, he took her wine glass from her fingers and set it
on the table. Then, effortlessly, he lifted and settled her on his lap,
trailing kisses over her cheekbones, her jawline, down the column of her neck.
The knot in the pit of her stomach slowly eased, and she found herself leaning
into him.
    When he spoke, his voice sounded harsh, but his
anger was obviously not directed at her.
    “If I ever meet that asshole, he’ll be lucky if
there’s enough left of him to pick up with a towel.” He nibbled her ear lobe. “Men
like that aren’t…really men. They’re cowards who get their power from abusing
others.” He cupped her chin and turned her face, forcing her to look at him. “If
I thought you really believed I could do that to you I’d be even angrier, but I’m
going to assume you’re just in self-protection mode.”
    Liz nodded, unable to say anything.
    Alex cleared his throat. “So I’m going to say
this and hope you believe me. From the minute I met you, I wanted you, but not
as just a fling. A toy. I could sense your depth as a person and felt a
connection I’ve never felt with anyone else. I can’t promise you nothing will
ever go wrong, Liz, but I can promise you, I’ll do my damndest to prevent it. I
want a future with you, one in which we’re equals every place except the
bedroom. Are you willing to take a chance on that?”
    She drew in a very shaky breath and let it out.