"Keep talking sexy like that and I'm all yours."
She grinned. "Are cowboys really that easy?"
"When you've been on the range with nothing but a horse between your legs and cattle all around you," he drawled, "most definitely."
She laughed. "And has this particular cowboy ever been near a horse or cattle?"
"Only the mechanical kind in country bars."
"Honesty. I like that."
He slid her glass of wine across to her. Their fingers brushed, and electricity skittered across her skin, reigniting the deep-down ache. Damn, what was going on here? Why was she reacting to this man so strongly, when before her reaction was, at best, lukewarm?
He wrapped a hand around his frosty beer. "How come you're down here again? I thought you'd been grabbed for the night."
She shrugged. "Turns out I made the wrong choice."
He raised an eyebrow. "How's that?"
"He wasn't after what I'm after."
"And you know this because…?"
She forced a smile. "Because he let me go."
"A fool indeed." He gave her a look that held enough heat to smoke her insides. "Be assured I will not make the same mistake."
She raised an eyebrow. "Presuming the offer comes to the table."
He hesitated. "Of course."
"And the offer very much depends on how you feel about questions."
"Darlin', with the prospect of wild sex in the offering, you can ask me any damn thing you like."
She leaned a hip against the bar, taking a sip of wine before saying, "You said you've spent time with eight or nine women so far—what went wrong?"
He shrugged. "Everything."
His voice was a little vague, and she frowned. "In what way?"
He hesitated, eyes a little distant, as if he was fighting to find the memories. "Four of them were bi. They weren't looking for anything long term, just a sperm donor."
"Then why did they come here? There're sperm banks all over the place."
"Maybe they wanted a particular look, and that can't be guaranteed at sperm banks." He shrugged again. "Let's not dwell on the past. Let's talk about the future." He half turned, facing her. "Or at least the next few hours."
She raised an eyebrow. "Presuming again that I have a few hours to spare."
"Even the busiest person can make a little time for wild and wicked sex, can't they?"
"Maybe." She sipped her drink, but it did little to ease the aching dryness in her throat. Oh, how she wanted to give in to the desire throbbing through her veins. But as much as her hormones might protest, she was here to do a job. Right now, that job was questioning this man, not shagging him.
"What about the other five tryouts?"
He glanced at his drink, but not before she'd caught the irritated flash in his eyes. "I told you before. The hands of a plumber weren't what they were after."
"There has to be more to it than that."
He looked at her again, but the blue of his eyes was once again distant and, just for a moment, reminded her oddly of Grey. "Why? Women have all the power these days when it comes to relationships, and believe me, they're using it."
She raised an eyebrow. "And you don't like the change?
You'd prefer that men once again did all the running in relationships?"
"I believe in equality—in all areas."
"Including the bedroom?" She'd met lots of men over the years who'd spouted similar beliefs, but most seemed to get a little ticked off when a woman tried to take control and set the pace. Promiscuity might be required, and women might be able to pick and choose as they pleased, but most men still liked to call the shots when it came to sex.
His brief glance was filled with enough heat to singe her toes. "Particularly in the bedroom."
"Meaning if we went upstairs now, you'd let me take control and do whatever I want to you?"
His gaze met and held hers, and suddenly she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. Could only stare deep into his eyes, until they seemed to surround her, fill her. The world was nothing more than a bluish-gray sea that pounded her skin, and her mind was aflame with the heated wash of his desire.
"Only if you let me do whatever I want to you in return."
His words were so softly spoken they seemed nothing more than a lush wind that whispered through her mind.
First it was Grey blowing her sockets, now it was Harrison.
Maybe she'd been a whole lot closer to the "shag anything" edge than she'd thought. She blew out a breath, and scrambled to hang onto the last remaining scraps of resistance. "Did you date any of the last five women outside of the bar?"
He reached out, running a finger down her cheek. His eyes were distant, distracted, his touch a sear of lightning against her skin. "No."
"Why not? Did they find someone better?"
"Yes."
Her gaze was still caught in his, and it was getting harder and harder to reach for questions through the lust fogging her brain. She forced a teasing grin and said, "Perhaps you'd better tell me their names, just so I can understand why those women passed up such a fine option."
He grinned. "I'd be a fool if I did."
She raised an eyebrow. "Scared of the competition, cowboy?"
"Right now? No."
His finger had reached her lips and was outlining them.
She licked her lips, licked his finger. His skin was cool against her tongue, and tasted faintly of beer and salt. "Then prove it."
His finger paused, his touch branding her lips. "Why is this even important?"
"Because I prefer men not afraid of a challenge." She wrapped her lips around his finger, sucking on it lightly.
The scent of lust sharpened dramatically, drowning her in its heat. "Their names were Gantry and Steepan."
The air around them trembled, as if the flames beginning to consume the two of them were sucking in all available oxygen. It was certainly harder to breathe. To think.
But she had to think. Had to, because he'd just given them something. "And are they here tonight?"
"Gantry's not."
"And Steepan?"
He blinked, and awareness returned to his eyes. He continued to stare at her for a moment, and she'd swear she saw both surprise and anger in his eyes. But once again, that anger wasn't aimed at her, but at himself.
She frowned at the thought. It had been Grey who'd been angry earlier, not Harrison.
"I don't know if Steepan is here or not." He turned away, and picked up his drink.
His lie vibrated through her. He not only knew whether or not Steepan was here, but he actually knew him. Not as a friend, but as a… She hesitated, searching for the right word. A colleague. A partner.
And she also knew he wasn't about to tell her more right here and now. Whatever it was that had allowed the slip was now securely locked away.
"Then what do you know?"
The sexy smile that suddenly tugged his lips made her heart do a strange little dance. But it wasn't the smile itself, but rather its odd similarity to Grey's smile.
"I know I want to fuck you something fierce."
His words vibrated through her, making the already fierce ache fiercer. "Even with me in full control?"
"Yes."
"Then let's do it." The words were out before she could stop them. But she couldn't regret them, not when the fever of wanting burned through every part of her. Besides, as she'd said to Jack earlier—the best time to question a man was during the haze of sex.
If she could remember the questions.
Something close to triumph blazed in his eyes, then he grabbed her hand, his fingers long, strong and hot as they pressed firmly against hers. He tugged her towards the stairs, not saying a word and not letting her go as he led her up to the second floor, and arranged a room.
Once they were inside the white bedroom, she pulled her hand from his and said, "Strip."
He didn't argue, just silently undressed and tossed his clothes onto the sofa. Then he crossed his arms, watching her as intently as she watched him. A smile tugged her lips. She had a feeling he was ready to stand there all night if that's what it took to convince her he believed in equality in the bedroom. Only equality wasn't the true issue here—it was whether he was willing to allow her to take complete control.