The Cowboy

instantly and cried out softly. She could hardly stand now. She leaned back against the desk, letting it support her weight. Rafe's fingers stretched her gently and she dug her nails into his shoulders.
    "That's it, Maggie, love. Let me know how it feels. Tell me, sweetheart."
    "You already know what you can do to me," she whispered in between gasps of pleasure.
    "Yeah, but I like to hear about it." His eyes gleamed in the darkness as he looked up into her face.
    "Why?"
    "You know why. It makes me crazy."
    She half laughed and half groaned and tangled her fingers in his hair. "You make
me
go crazy, Rafe. Absolutely wild. I don't even feel like myself when you touch me like this."
    "Good." He stood up slowly, his hands gliding along her hips and then her waist and above her breasts. He carried the cotton dress along with the movement, lifting it up over her head. When it was free, he tossed it heedlessly onto the floor.
    Margaret had one last burst of sanity. "Your room. Just across the hall. We can…"
    "No. I like you just fine where you are." He stood between her legs and lifted her up so that she was sitting on the desk. She reached back to brace herself with her hands as his mouth moved on her shoulders and traveled down to her swollen breasts.
    Rafe's fingers went to the waistband of his pants. A moment later Margaret heard the rasp of his zipper.
    "Aren't you going to at least take off your boots?" Margaret demanded in a husky whisper.
    "No need. This'll work just fine."
    She look down and saw that it would work just fine. "But what about…about the protection you always use?"
    "Got it right here." He reached into his back pocket.
    Margaret heard the soft sound of the little packet being opened. "You carry that on you?" she gasped.
    "Every minute since the day you arrived. I want to be able to make love to you anywhere, anytime."
    "Good heavens, Rafe." She giggled, feeling more daring and wanton than ever. "Isn't there something a bit scandalous about doing it like this—on top of a desk? With your boots on?"
    "This is my office, let me run the show, okay?" He caught one nipple lightly between his teeth.
    Margaret inhaled sharply. "Yes. By all means, go ahead. Run the show. Please." She sighed in surrender and ceased worrying about decorum.
    Rafe eased her down until she lay across the desk in a blatantly sensual pose. Her legs hung over the edge, open and inviting. She shuddered as he moved closer.
    Margaret looked up through slitted eyes as Rafe probed her tenderly with his thumbs and then slowly fitted himself to her. She felt the excitement pounding in her veins and wondered at the magic between them. It was always like this. When Rafe made love to her he took her into a different world, one where she was wild and free and deliriously uninhibited—one where she knew she was temporarily, at least, the center of his universe.
    Margaret clutched at Rafe as he surged slowly, deeply into her. She tightened her legs around him as he braced himself above her, his hands planted flat on either side of her.
    "Maggie, love.
Maggie
. You're so sweet and tight and, oh, sweetheart I do love the feel of you. Incredible."
    She watched the hard, impassioned lines of his face as he drove into her until she could no longer concentrate on anything except the tide of excitement pooling deep within her. She closed her eyes again, lifting her self against the driving thrusts and then she felt Rafe ease one hand between their bodies.
    He touched her with exquisite care and Margaret lost her breath. Her body tightened in a deep spasm and then relaxed in slow shivers that brought an intense pleasure to every nerve ending.
    "Rafe."
    "Yes, love. Yes." And then he imbedded himself to the hilt within her. His lips drew back across his teeth as he fought to control a shout of sensual triumph and release. A moment later he dropped back into the chair behind him and dragged Margaret down onto his lap.
    Margaret huddled against him, aware of his open zipper scratching her bare thigh. Rafe's hand slid slowly, absently along her leg and up to her waist. His head was pillowed against the back of his chair, his eyes closed.
    "You are one wild and wicked lady," Rafe said without opening his eyes. "Imagine just walking in here bold as you please in the middle of the night when I'm trying to work and seducing me on my office desk."
    Margaret smiled to herself as a thought struck her. "You know something, Rafe?"
    "What?" He still seemed