Page 13 of The Rancher's Amnesia Bride

The breathless tone of her honey-sweet voice almost had him groaning.

"Oui?"

Charlee-Mae almost whimpered. Oh God, that was simply 'yes' in French, but it was just so, so sexy she could die at the sound of it.

Jade-green eyes met amber ones, and just as Charlee-Mae lost track of her thoughts, so did Philippe forget every rule he was supposed to stick to about their mail-order marriage.

He had meant to keep their relationship platonic and uncomplicated, but with Charlee-Mae turning out to be every fucking thing he had ever fantasized in a woman—-

Charlee-Mae's heart started to race as Philippe slowly leaned close.

Lord, oh Lord.

His golden head bent down, and her breath caught.

"I want to kiss you."

Her head spun, and Charlee-Mae heard herself whisper, "Oui, s'il vous plaît." Yes, please.

Lust blazed in his loins, and even though her French accent was still frighteningly horrible, Philippe could not remember hearing anything so fucking hot. This woman turned him on in a way that no other woman had ever done, and even as the logical part of his mind warned him against muddying the waters of his marriage—-

It was too late.

Charlee-Mae's toes curled under the sheets as her husband's large, strong hands clasped her face. She trembled in his hold, and she could barely hear anything over the loud drumming of her heartbeat. His head continued to lower, and just as she tried to draw another breath to calm herself, it was then his mouth finally covered hers, and she ended up completely forgetting how to breathe.

Oh! My! Lord!

Her husband's mouth was simply divine. It was hot where it was supposed to be hot. Soft and firm where it was supposed to be soft and firm, and oh God, oh God, the way he was leisurely nibbling and nipping on her lips was fast making Charlee-Mae lose her mind.

She tried to keep her wits together, but when she felt his lips finally nudge hers open, the thought of what was going to happen next had her moaning as her lips parted—-

Aaaaah.

The kiss deepened as his tongue stroked inside the moist cavern of her mouth, and all she could do was moan anew as her arms wrapped around his neck. His kiss was slow and gentle at first, but as the strokes of his tongue gradually changed into swift, hard thrusts that made her feel like he was fucking her mouth, something inside of her seemed to unfurl—-

Putain.

One moment, she was like a shy, uncertain kitten in his arms, and then all of a sudden she had turned into something else and something more, with her arms tightening around his neck as she started kissing him back. Her tongue began to mate with his, and at the first feel of her tongue thrusting inside of his mouth—-

Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck.

A groan escaped him as he felt his control start to break. He had never been the type to lose his mind over a kiss. Sex might be his favorite pastime, but he had never let it rule his life. He had always remained in command of himself even when fucking, and this had not changed no matter who he was fucking. Or at least it never did...until now. Until this. Until her.

And when he felt her start to move until he realized she was climbing into his lap—-

Putain de bordel de merde!

The bed dipped as she straddled him, and he could no longer think. He cupped her nape while his other hand went under her hospital gown—-

"Putain!"

He yanked back, and Charlee-Mae moaned in protest at the abrupt end of their kiss.

"You do not have any underwear," Philippe growled. "Pourquoi?"

"Uh..." Charlee-Mae had a hard time making her brain work. "Do you hate it?"

"Hate it?" A hoarse laugh escaped him. "It's more like..."

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