Lesbian Cowboys Read Free Page B

together, and so the sweet heat of her mouth was a desperate homecoming. I wanted to devour her, be devoured by her. Her tongue danced with mine, and all I could think of was how that tongue felt in the hollow of my shoulder, on the hard peak of my breast, at the juncture between my thighs.
    I moaned, and she answered. I wound my fingers into the honey-colored upsweep of her soft hair and kissed her as if I were making love to her. Right now this was the only moment I had, and if I didn’t have time to strip her and lay her down
beside me and love her properly, I could at least do this.
    But it couldn’t be that way, and it couldn’t go on forever.
    Her whimper as I pulled away almost drove me to my knees, because her desperation and desire mirrored my own. I was hot and wet and quivering on the edge, and all I’d done was kiss her.
    If her hands hadn’t been full of my dress and petticoats and stockings—if she’d stroked between my legs—I would have known the oblivion I craved.
    No time. I kissed her on the tip of her pert nose and whispered my love and apologies. One reason I love her is that she understands the tightrope I must walk.
    It was excruciating to feel her hands on me and have them putting clothes on me, not stripping them off. Every tug that tightened my corset lacings was like a step closer to the gallows. How I ached to be naked in her arms, breasts pressed to breasts, fingertips chasing over skin and raising gooseflesh and desire.
    Later. I promised us both that.
    My father was being fetched, and Samuel Owens awaited me in the parlor.
    â€œWhy, Miss Josephine, you are quite a sight today,” Samuel said, rising with his hat in his hand to greet me. Oh, he might have said the right words, acted all solicitous and proper, but his eyes revealed his true thoughts. His gaze raked over me, greedy and lascivious, a disgusting parody of the way Margaret had stared in awe at my figure just a few moments ago.
    Oily , I thought. Oily Owens, that’s what they called him behind his back, and I could see why.
    â€œAnd a good day to you, Mr. Owens,” I said, my smile as sweet as I could manage, and him no wiser for it. “What brings you out here this fine day?”
    His eyebrows shot up. “Your daddy didn’t tell you?”

    Now I felt like I’d been sitting under the water pump. Oh, Daddy, what have you done?
    â€œI haven’t spoken to my father yet today,” I said. “He’s been…”
    I couldn’t say indisposed, because I guessed Samuel Owens had been witness to my daddy’s drinking the night before.
    â€œâ€¦occupied,” I finished.
    Samuel wasn’t a good enough actor to suppress a snort of derision, although he seemed to catch himself enough to bite back whatever it was his first instinct to say.
    â€œWell, now, I hope he’s not too occupied to see me,” he said. “We have some business to attend to, your father and I. You might want to fetch him, Miss Josephine, and hear what needs to be said, as it involves you.”
    At first I couldn’t imagine what business Samuel might have with my father (since I knew firsthand what-all business was to be had regarding the workings of the ranch), much less how it could involve me.
    But I’m not stupid, and a sick gnawing started in my chest that had nothing to do with the tightness of my corset.
    When Daddy wouldn’t meet my eye as we sat down at the kitchen table, I knew something was very, very wrong. Much worse than just another dreadful night at the card table.
    â€œJo—Josephine,” Daddy said. “I had a run of bad luck with the cards last night…”
    And I knew, with head-spinning certainty, what he’d done.
    I would not—would not —faint like a simpering girl. No matter how hard it was to draw in a full breath in this damnable contraption.
    â€œNow, Miss Josephine,” Samuel broke in, “I’m not