Second Dance Cowboy (Second Chance) (24 page)

Thank you for reading Second Dance Cowboy. I hope you’ve enjoyed it! Please leave a review.

Hugs and kisses,

Rhonda Lee Carver  “
Writing Men Who Love to Get Their Hands Dirty…”

Suffering from years of hopeless romantic notions with sexy, sassy heroines and bad-ass heroes taking residence in her mind, Rhonda decided to write, bringing the stories alive. With baby on hip and laptop on the other, and a couple of years later, Rhonda has published a delightful array of books with a handful of spicy love stories waiting for the final touches. Many of her stories begin on used napkins because when an idea strikes, she must write it down.

When Rhonda isn’t crafting edge-of-your-seat, sizzling novels, you will find her with her husband and children, too many cats and dogs to name, watching a breathtaking movie, traveling to exotic places, doing (or trying) yoga, and finding new ways to keep her smile bright.

Rhonda thrives on making her readers happy. She believes life can be a challenge, but reading is a place where one goes to get away. Everyone deserves romance—one page at a time… 

For other titles by Rhonda Lee Carver, please visit:

www.rhondaleecarver.com

Find me on Facebook, too!

www.facebook.com/rhondalee.carver

Other books by Rhonda Lee Carver

Diamond in a Rose

Double Dare

Delaney’s Sunrise

Second Chance Cowboy (Book 1, Second Chance Series)

Second Ride Cowboy (Book 2, Second Chance Series)

Second Round Cowboy (Book 3, Second Chance Series)

Castle’s Fortress

Dreaming Ivy

Friends With Benefits

Sin With Cuffs

With Honor

Wicked Pleasures (Book 1, Wicked Wolves Series)

Wicked Lust (Book 2, Wicked Wolves Series)

Have you read Second Chance Cowboy, Book 1 of Second Chance Series? If not, here’s an excerpt:

Carly Taylor snuggled closer to the warmth behind her as a muscular arm curled possessively around her waist and one powerful leg draped easily over the curve of her smooth calf.

The second leg, nestled between her inner thighs, pressed against her moist, sensitive core. Heat oozed from the pit of her stomach, spreading downward like honey and settling in her most intimate part.

It reminded her of a long lost feeling—one that she’d missed, but had stored into a forbidden area of her mind. Every now and again, she got a craving to ride a cowboy, to have a man deep within...

The thought was misplaced when something hard stirred against her bare bottom. Granite, warm and smooth...and easing against her moist folds as if searching for home.

Carly purred and circled her hips, rubbing the steely length with her ass in silent invitation. Her deep, needful moan spliced the silence.

She ached to have him inside—

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

Carly froze. She knew that voice.
Knew it well
. Husky, rich, laced with a Texas drawl. Her heart pounded and her stomach did somersaults.

Shit! What had she done?

Last night’s events wriggled into her consciousness, plowing through her anesthetized, hungover brain. She forced herself to face her actions, one-by-grueling-one.

Carly remembered feeling sorry for herself.

Her mind journeyed to the night before…

She’d planned a quiet evening in front of the tube with a chick flick and a good vintage wine. The remote control had dropped to the floor, and as she reached for it, she came across something she’d hidden there two years before and had intentionally forgotten it.
The box.

Opening the flowered container had been a big mistake. The box was like a treasure chest containing mementoes from the past—pictures of her and Chance, a locket he’d given her that had belonged to his mother, and movie stubs from their first show together. The memories had sparked an ache deep in her chest. She’d tried to drive the pain away, but there were some things a person could never forget.

As she’d thumbed down memory lane, her self-pity had grown to enormous magnitude. Wallowing in emotion wasn’t something she did often, but this one time she hadn’t had the strength to fight the demons. So, she’d drank a glass—
or two, maybe three, a bottle—
of wine.

Stopping after the first would’ve been enough if all she’d wanted was a good buzz. Not only had she overshot her intention, but she’d descended into oblivion and lowered to stupid actions.
Real stupid.

Somewhere along her journey to insensibility, she’d made a phone call—six numbers to insanity. She hadn’t planned a booty-call, yet with the proof poking her, that’s how it seemed to have turned out.

“Cat got your tongue?” The whisper tickled her ear and all she could do was gulp a mouthful of air. He should have just licked her from thigh to shoulder, because each time he spoke, it evoked the same slice of heaven.

Stay on track, Carly
.

She couldn’t muster up the gumption to turn around and face the imp. She counted to ten...backward, forward, upside down. No help.

Out of all the men in Shelby, how could she have picked him, her
husband,
to sleep with!

His hand clung to the curve of her thigh and the tenderness of his touch seeped inside her skin. Carly wanted to pull away, but God help her, revulsion was the last thing her body experienced. He’d made love to her thoroughly, all through the night. Now her treacherous body longed to have him again.

Her mind was convinced she’d made a mistake. However, it took a good ten seconds to convince her heated core that she wasn’t going for another helping. No matter how good his hands felt along the contour of her hip, she wasn’t succumbing to the emotion. They’d been there—done the relationship bit—and it hadn’t worked.

With that thought in mind, she took a deep breath and moved off the bed, pulling the red silk sheet along with her. She clutched the soft shiny material to her body as if it were her lifeline. It seemed pointless to hide her nakedness considering he knew, probably with eyes closed, every inch of her. After all, he’d discovered her like a treasure. A stinging sensation burned her cheeks.

Tilting her chin in determination, she turned. Chance Taylor, all six feet, two-hundred pounds of ribbed muscle and beautiful flesh was lying in her queen-sized bed.

A smug smile kinked one corner of his mouth and her muscles quivered. He moved a knee and her gaze slid to his
stiffy positioned against his stomach. Damn the man. He could at least pretend he wasn’t showing off his package…and what a nice package it was.

Feeling her cheeks flush deeper, she turned away. A fraction of shame swept through her. She’d had sex, sultry mind-blowing sex, in her childhood room. This was where she used to have tea parties with her dolls. Where she’d play dress up. Where as a teenager, she’d listen to the music too loud and hang posters of boy bands. And last night, she’d christened her room as an adult.

Thank goodness her father had gone to the cattle auction for the weekend. Harry would have jumped to the hopeful conclusion that her and Chance were getting back together. Harry McAllister was a huge fan of the cocky man sitting in her bed.

Chance’s usual conceited smile was in place.

He was a perfect specimen of a virile man. Not an ounce of fat existed on his lean frame. His hair, shorter now than when they were together, was as dark as coal with only a few streaks of silver, which enhanced his looks instead of aging him. His penetrating green eyes managed to set her on fire, every time.

Her gaze sank to his erection of its own accord. He saluted her, as if teasing her. She knew the man had never-fail stamina. Dragging her attention back to his face, she focused on the thin white scar on his forehead to keep from staring at his hard body.

Parting her lips, she wanted to say something, but couldn’t get her voice to work.

“It’s too late to get all bashful now, sweetheart.”

Chance’s voice tormented her sensitive nerves, and tore open every memory of the fervor they shared during the night. She’d called out his name repeatedly during their lovemaking. Her legs stretched in angles she didn’t think possible. The heat of her blush burned its way from her dark hair roots to her red-painted toenails.

A warning shot off like the crack of a gun inside her head. Chance equaled uncontrollable, raw desire. She fought the reckless screaming inside her mind that urged her to pluck what was there for the taking. She searched her emotions for the downsides to Chance’s love.

His masculinity was her weakness. She wanted to fall into his arms and allow his powerful energy to consume. Being with Chance came with a price and she wasn’t willing to pay. He wanted her to move on, to forget their painful past, but Carly owned her heartache. She desperately wanted to hold on to it. It was much easier to harbor guilt than face the truth.

“Look, Chance,” she started and stopped. She scrambled for the right words. “We made—no,
I
made a mistake in calling you last night. If I hadn’t called you then this—” She glanced at his irresistible form again.
Bad idea
. “This wouldn’t have happened.”

Chance smoothed his hand over his disheveled hair. He showed no sign that her words reached or moved him. His attention dropped to the sheet clasped to her body and her mouth went dry. A tingly sensation swirled her nipples. She didn’t need a mirror to know they peaked like pearls.

His tongue slipped out and moistened his bottom lip as his sugary gaze glided over her in a visual caress. He held his jade stare at the apex of her thighs and she resisted the urge to squirm. His look of confidence and command triggered naughty thoughts inside her.

The phone on the bedside table rang and Carly jerked. The shrill ring was a cold dousing to her desire. She knew she should answer it. Her mind commanded her to, but her feet wouldn’t move. She stood statue-still, her breathing loud in her ears.

The sound stopped. She told herself it was the time for closure; destroy any remaining connection between them.

“I drank a little wine, maybe more than I needed,
and I felt a bit lonely. I only meant to call you and....” She raked her fingers through her tangled hair. “I don’t know why I needed to talk to you.” She sighed.
Where was the self-confident Carly?
“I allowed you to come over but it wasn’t an invitation into my bed.”

Chance propped a shoulder against the sleek black headboard and pinned her with his intense gaze. Carly squirmed under his penetrating stare. Butterfly wings tickled the inside of her stomach.

“Don’t freak out, Carly. We’re married. Married people have sex.”

Her gut clenched. His calm words and the casual disposition of his body trickled enjoyment. He seemed so nonchalant about the situation, and it made her furious. It always did. This was his mode of operation. He was calm, cool, collected, even in a position where some level of anxiety was courteous.

“Not two people separated for two years. And especially not when divorce papers were filed. You signed the papers, remember? The divorce is final this morning.”

He winced.

There, she’d said the chilling “D” word aloud.
Divorce.

His expression turned cold. Had he forgotten? She’d expected to get some sort of pleasure out of saying the word, but it wasn’t delight that clasped her chest. She wasn’t quite sure how she felt.

“Okay, Carly. I’ll let you use alcohol as an excuse for the first time we hit the sheets, although we both know you were sober when I walked through your door. What about the second and third, or the fourth and fifth time?” His thick eyebrow popped up in silent accusation. “You weren’t thinking divorce when your legs straddled me.”

Carly opened her mouth, and immediately snapped it shut. She had no defense. There were no justifications for last night, so why try? She’d only embarrass herself more.

When he’d shown up at booty-call-midnight, the part of her brain housing logical reasoning didn’t exist and the only thing she’d cared about was satisfaction.

Once he’d gotten near, she was lost in his magnetism. The draw was like silver chains holding her, making her powerless to run like hell. His allure beckoned her to him like a magnet to metal. He’d always held an invisible force over her emotions. Being alone in the same room with him after years of sexual dehydration had been an erotic wreck waiting to happen.

Chance’s jaw tightened and his eyes flashed impatience. She knew his aloof attitude slipped a bit.

“I’ll go out on a limb, but maybe this—” He swept a hand through the air encompassing the bed. “—proves we belong together. You know it’s not too late.”