Page 20 of Old-Fashioned Rancher

I curled my fingers around the back of Grady’s neck and pulled him down to me in a searing kiss. He groaned against my mouth, deep, rough, and delicious. When he shifted his weight forward, he pinned me against the wall of the barn. Electricity sparked hot and fast through every nerve in my body.

Grady hitched my leg around his hip, with his hand up my skirt. His rough knuckles grazed along my inner thigh and my core clenched in anticipation of his touch.

“I’ve wanted to have you like this since that first day you showed up,” he murmured, scraping his teeth over my neck.

I arched against him, desperate. Grady dragged one fingertip along my panties, tracing my slick clit. A whine caught in the back of my throat.

“I wake up thinking about you,” he continued, kissing the curve of my jawline.

My eyes fluttered shut. I clutched a fistful of his shirt to steady myself.

“Good thoughts, I hope.”

When he hummed in response, it went straight between my thighs. He cupped my breast in his big hand, stroking his thumb over the nipple.

“You make me so fucking hard that I can’t focus on a goddamn thing until I do something about it. That’s what you do to me, every morning.”

Dear God in heaven, this man was going to be the death of me.

Somehow, a glimmer of rationality broke through the haze of lust that clouded my brain.

“Grady,” I rasped. “Anyone…could see us…like this.”

He applied a little more pressure to my clit in a steady circle—just enough to have me squirming, but not enough to come.

“Let them see,” he said. “They can watch while you soak my fingers and scream my name.”

My knees threatened to give out. Grady shifted even closer, rolling his hips against my thigh. He really wasn’t kidding when he said I made him hard. I could feel the bulge in his jeans throbbing.

Another hiss—pop from the fireworks. Another cheer from the guests. Grady and I were too lost in each other to pay attention to the rest of the world.

“Turn around,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke.

I obeyed, pressing my ass back into his groin. He growled and grabbed a fistful of my skirt, shoving it up around my hips. When he hooked two fingers in my panties and yanked them down, cool air kissed my overheated, exposed skin.

“Jesus, Birdie,” Grady muttered, curving his hand over my ass with an appreciative squeeze.

I could have easily felt self-conscious about my body in Grady’s presence. He was toned with muscle, lean and trim despite reaching middle-age. My metabolism had slowed down in my late 30s, until I’d developed soft rolls in my stomach. It seemed every time I looked in the mirror, my thighs grew thicker with each passing day.

Any shyness I might have felt about the way I looked disappeared when I heard the gritty rasp of Grady’s zipper. A moment later, the thick, hot weight of his cock settled between my ass cheeks. He grabbed my hips with a bruising grip, rutting against me.

Pop—sizzle. Another firework. A flare of light.

The crackle of a condom wrapper echoed in the pause between one firework and the next.

“Please tell me you haven’t been carrying that condom in your pocket for years,” I said.

Grady grunted.

“No. With you waltzing around the ranch looking so fucking tempting over the past few days, I knew I needed to be prepared. I forgot how troublesome these damn things are.”

I reached back over my shoulder and pushed Grady’s hat off his head. Threading my fingers through his hair, I pulled him closer until his body snugly fit against mine, with his chin hooked over my shoulder.

The sharp snap of the condom signaled it was in place.

Then I felt the blunt heaviness of his cock pressing in, deeper and deeper. My mouth dropped open at how good that stretch felt, and the hot glide that came with it.

“Fuck,” Grady rumbled, his voice strained and gravelly. He buried his face in my neck, tightening his grip on me. “You’re even better than I dreamed you would be.”

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