He was awake, but had yet to open his eyes. He knew that bright sunlight filled the room—he could tell by the pain that was shooting through his head and behind his eyelids. Trying to think about last night hurt, but he remembered driving to Scooter’s. Oh God, his head hurt. Trying to swallow, he couldn’t—his throat was too dry. When he moved his shoulder, he realized that his hand was cupping something full and soft and his body was pressed tightly against something slim. His pelvis was pushed against something soft yet firm. Again he tried to think. He was at Scooter’s, drinking with his buddies. Yeah, that’s right, they were drinking beer. He’d had a couple of Sam Adams when she’d walked in.

Every head had turned when Becca Simpson opened the door and strolled into Scooter’s wearing a little short skirt and a tight, low-cut T-shirt. She was a beauty, with long, shiny brown hair and big green eyes. Her body was tall and slender, but she had curves in the right places. Damn, she was hot, walking across the peanut-covered floor of the local drinking hole, her cowboy boots thumping as she gazed straight ahead, making her way to the bar. He remembered taking a long draw of his ice cold beer as he watched her, thinking it was too damn bad she was part of the Simpson family, because she was made for sex.

Flexing his hand, he heard a soft moan that caused him to open one eye.

Holy shit. He was in bed with a woman. And judging by the breast in his hand and the ass pressed up against his junk, she was fine. Slowly he lifted up on one elbow and looked over the shoulder of the woman. Shiny, long brown hair covered her face. As gently as he could, he ran his fingers through the silky strands and laid them down her back. Her hair was so soft that he wanted to bury his face in it. He twitched and started to get hard. Maybe they could have a little morning sex before they left, wherever they were. He looked around and recognized the room at the Lazy Daze Motel on the east edge of town. God, they must have been in a hurry to get to it if they hadn’t even driven to his place. When his eyes cleared, he looked down at the one he was in bed with.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned as he saw the beautiful face of Becca Simpson, still asleep in bed with him. Lifting the sheet, he saw that she, like him, was totally naked. Flashes of a gorgeous woman sitting on top of him, riding him like the coin horse in front of Kmart, made their way into his brain. He released her breast, rolled over onto his back, and covered his eyes with his arm. More memories assaulted him. Memories of him standing on the floor, his hands on her hips, taking her from behind. Her on her knees taking him in her mouth. Shit, how many times did they do it? As wasted as he’d been, he was surprised he could get it up. Then again, Becca was so hot that it wasn’t difficult. But why did he have to jump into bed with her? She’d been a thorn in his side his whole life.

And then there was the fact that his family and the Simpsons hated each other.

It crossed his mind that maybe he should just get up and get out of there before she woke up. If she’d been as drunk as he was, she wouldn’t remember him. He rolled back over and wrapped his fingers through the ends of her hair. That wouldn’t be right. He might not like her, but he knew she wasn’t the type of woman who hopped into bed with just anyone. Last he heard, she was dating some guy at college. Obviously that was over. He’d known Becca since grade school, and he was pretty damn sure she was a virgin when she’d graduated from high school. Every guy at Marlow High wanted her—until she turned them down when they suggested going all the way. In high school, she’d stuck to her guns: she would be a virgin until she married. And the fact that her daddy was the magistrate judge for the district put an extra damper on things.

Just then she groaned and flipped over onto her back, the sheet dropping down past her breasts and flat stomach. His breath caught in his throat. She was spectacular, and, glaring down at her perfect body, he instantly grew harder. Cursing himself for not having more control, he drew his eyes back up her body to find that hers were open and staring back at him.

“Morning,” he murmured as he lay on his side next to her.

Confusion muddled Becca’s brain as she tried to remember where she was—and who was talking to her. As the fog cleared, she recognized the man looking down at her as Sawyer Walsh. A chill rushed over her body, and she lifted her head to discover that she was lying in a bed, naked. She squealed and reached for the cheap sheet to cover herself, but Sawyer drew it over her body first. “I swear to God, Sawyer, if you forced yourself on me…”

A smirk covered his handsome face and she wanted to slap it off him. The hatred that she felt for Sawyer Walsh coursed through her body, all the way to the tips of her toes. But she knew him. She knew he would never force himself on a woman. He had enough women hanging off him to pick and choose who he wanted. “I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t do that. How did we end up here?” she asked, her hand whirling in a circle.

He shook his head and told her that he didn’t remember all the details, only that he had been drinking with buddies when she walked into Scooter’s. She nodded and, thinking hard, remembered why she’d walked into the local dive last night. Yet another guy she’d been dating broke up with her. She had been certain that Kirk was different from the others. He seemed so much more mature. At first he hadn’t pushed her to do anything more than kiss, but then he changed. He wanted more. Telling her to grow up, he put his hands on her blouse and squeezed her breasts. When she’d pushed him away, he’d grabbed her arms and pulled her up tightly against his body. His eyes flashed with anger, and he told her that if she wasn’t a woman, she could just leave. She stepped back, turned and walked to the door. As she left, he yelled that he never wanted to see her again.

She was okay with that.

Her virginity was the only thing that she could save for the man she married, and she wasn’t going to change her mind about it. No amount of pressure could make her. Then she moved her legs slightly and felt the fire that was burning between them. She felt…stretched, and stickiness coated her upper thighs.

At that moment, she knew. She had given herself to her enemy, Sawyer Walsh.

“We had sex, didn’t we,” she said, more as a comment than a question.

“Yeah.”

Tears filled her eyes and she turned her head to the side. She didn’t want Sawyer Walsh to see her so upset, but he gently turned her head back to face him. “I’m sorry, Becca. I’m sure I didn’t force you. I would never do that, but then…”

He was so handsome. As upset as she was with herself and with him, he was still the sexiest man ever created in the state of Wyoming. Sniffling, she nodded, and looked into his dark blue eyes.

“I know you wouldn’t.”