Strong and Steady

He. Was. A. Cowboy. A COWBOY!
Living in Colorado, there were a bunch of them out and about, but I hadn’t seen one this close, and I hadn’t seen one who made me want to pull out a rope and lasso his ass.
Taller than Paul’s six-foot frame, he had broader shoulders and closely cropped dark hair. He wore a crisp white shirt, but it had snaps. A woman must have invented the concept of snaps on a man’s shirt because with this guy, I wanted to grab both sides of it and rip it open, see the defined chest beneath. Lick it.
Snap. Snap. SNAP!
My mouth watered at the idea. It wasn’t just the shirt that said Hello Cowboy! but the pressed jeans that molded oh-so-well to powerful legs. And butt. I’d never had a thing for big, shiny belt buckles, but mmm mmm. He even wore sturdy leather boots as if he’d just come from his ranch. He was all ripped, lean muscle, and my fingers itched to feel every one of them. From across the room, I could see his eyes were dark, a deep and equally dark brow that shadowed them. If my panties got damp from just a glance, what would happen if he turned that gaze on me? I swallowed at the very idea. Look at me. Look at me!
He was definitely tall and dark, but handsome? Not in the traditional sense, but he hit every one of my hot buttons, every button I had no idea I even had. Since when did a cowboy light my fire? They looked hot in the hottie-of-the-month calendar, but I’d never been attracted to one in person before.
But now. SNAP!