Cowboy Player: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 3 by Mia Hopkins

frightening, as dark a lover as he was as bright a friend.
    He was breathing through his teeth; his hot breaths cooled her sweat-damp skin. Three more deep thrusts and he froze, his rock-hard abs pressed against her ass cheeks, his balls cool and heavy against her clit.
    Impossibly, he thrust even deeper and pinned her in place, the head of his big cock pressed up against a spot near her cervix.
    Holy fuck.
    Melody closed her eyes. Intense shockwaves of sensation gathered like a whirlpool inside her, as if he’d discovered a new G-spot at the very back of her pussy.
    When Clark began to come, he pulled Melody into the gravity of his orgasm. She climaxed a third time, confused but too overcome with lust to care. Pleasure, heat, sweat and come—Clark and Melody tumbled together in the enormous wave, their time together as lovers dying one agonizing second at a time.
    She fell asleep almost the moment he withdrew from her body. She woke again, just for a moment, when the bed dipped and he came back from the restroom after cleaning up. Reflexively, she reached for him and wrapped her body around his.
    “Good night, Mel,” he whispered against her cheek.
    She breathed him in, drawing him into her dreams. “Good night.”
    * * * * *
    Clark looked down at Melody. The pain he felt in his chest was at complete odds with the pleasure he felt everywhere else.
    Who needs a fucking heart anyway?
    Drowsy and lovely, she lay under him, her dark hair a beautiful mess on the pillow. Earlier, after they woke up in each other’s arms, she didn’t say a word when he reached down between her legs and slowly caressed her with his fingers until she was silky and hot again. She didn’t say a word when he put on another condom. And she didn’t say a word when he eased inside her, the morning sunlight filling her glistening eyes with fire.
    Her fingertips drew wide, lazy circles on his back. She wrapped her legs around his hips and every time he thrust, she clenched at him, drawing him deeper into the dark mysteries of her body.
    Clark loved sex. He fucking loved it.
    But for all the women he’d slept with, he’d never known anyone like Melody. Maybe because she knew him, inside and out—he didn’t have to withhold anything from her or pretend to be someone he wasn’t. Maybe because in her own quiet way she made him feel as though everything was going to be all right. Whatever the reason, sleeping with Melody was a revelation. He didn’t just make love to her. He lost himself in her.
    “I can’t believe how good it is with you,” he whispered, touching his forehead to hers. “This is torture, letting you go.”
    “We have to let go.”
    She was right. He knew it. He had never been in a long-term relationship. She had enormous trust issues. No amount of good sex could alter the fact that they’d tear each other apart and destroy their friendship in the process. And Clark wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that happened.
    So Clark gorged himself on her, burning away the morning making love to her as slowly as he could. He took himself to the edge, denied himself orgasm again and again until his body throbbed, incandescent with lust.
    Ravenous, he embedded her scent and her taste in his brain. He memorized every curve and detail of her body so that when he was an old man sitting in his rocking chair, he could close his eyes and remember what it was like to be young, in love, and alive.
    She came first, clinging to him and shuddering in silence. When he came at last, his orgasm was so intense that he almost blacked out. Which was good—he hoped the numbness would keep him from facing the fact that this was the last time they’d ever make love.
    Sedate, they took separate showers, checked out of the hotel and drove to Oleander without much conversation. When Clark pulled up to her trailer, Melody turned to him and gave him a smile so beautiful in its melancholy that he gripped the steering wheel to keep from breaking down or