She was lost in the dizzying kiss, in every delicious sweep of his tongue, and then he pushed the elastic of her panties aside and his fingers were on her folds. Becca’s fists knotted in his shirt and she made a sound that was distinctly unsexy. It might have been a gurgle. She didn’t know. Didn’t care, either. All she knew was that Hank was dragging those thick, calloused fingers over her pussy, and if he touched her clit, he was going to make her come. She was so wet, so needy—

And then he touched her clit and she exploded. The world shattered around her and she cried out against his ear, her entire body seizing up like it wanted to fold in on itself.

Oh god, she’d never come so hard. And he just kept touching her and kissing her like he wanted to make her come again.

Not that it happened. Eventually the kisses slowed and became more languid, and her muscles unclenched.

He pressed another light kiss to her mouth and chuckled, his fingers stroking over her pussy one last time. “I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”

“Huh?” Becca shook her head, trying to focus on him. She was too dazed, felt too toe-curlingly amazing to try to put words together. And sounds. He kissed her slowly again . . . and then she realized she was pinned on her couch underneath a big, hairy cowboy with his hand in her ugly squirrel panties as some hideous clown killed people on the television.

This was not how she’d imagined her first date going. A hot blush seared her face.

He rubbed his nose against hers, his eyes heavy-lidded. “About you not coming back to the ranch. Yesterday morning. I tried to chase you off and that was mean of me.”

“Oh.” Were they talking about the ranch and not their date? “Um . . . okay.”

He nipped at her upper lip, and, gosh, if his hand didn’t stop stroking her pussy, she was going to start grinding against him like a shameful hussy, desperate for the next orgasm. It was his turn now, wasn’t it? She supposed he was waiting for her to get up and reciprocate. Somehow, the idea didn’t irritate her like it normally did with Greg.

Damn it, the last thing she wanted to think about was Greg, especially when the man on top of her felt so good, and he was still nibbling on her lips like he never intended to leave.

Hank’s mouth lazily moved over hers in one last kiss, and then his hand left her pussy—and she could have cried at the loss. “You’ll come by in the morning, then? With doughnuts?”

An odd request, especially after making out. “Do you . . . want me to?”

“Yeah. Gonna wanna see you.”

Ooh. That made her feel warm and fuzzy. She smiled shyly. “Then, yes. I will.”