Page 100 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked.

“Down the hall.”

He stood up and she did, too, then he scooped her up into his arms. She squeaked and wrapped her arms around his neck. She was so small, so light. He kind of liked it. Because it made him feel strong. And because he knew he could lift her up and move her around easily. For sex in interesting ways. He was a simple man. At least, he would prefer to be. Sex and beer. He could deal with that.

Maybe that had been half his problem for the past few years. Beer and sadness. Not beer and sex. He was changing that.

He was changing it now.

He charged down the hall, holding her close to his chest. “That door!” she said, gesturing to the one near the end of the hall.

He pushed it open with his shoulder and brought them inside, putting her down on the center of the bed. He stripped his clothes off as quickly as possible. “This is becoming a habit when you’re around,” he said. “Why did I even bother to get dressed?”

“You would have emotionally scarred the delivery guy.”

“Is my body that hideous?” he asked.

She laughed. “Hideous is not the word I’d use.”

“What is?” he asked, arching a brow.

“Jaw-dropping. Sexy. An ode to classic masculinity.”

“Stop it, Gracie, you’ll make me blush. Now take off your dress.”

She obeyed, revealing herself to him slowly. Inch by tantalizing inch. “How about that, cowboy? What do you see?”

“I’m an artist, you know,” he said, feeling like a jerk for saying it in even a semiserious manner. “So I’m an expert on art and the like.”

“Are you?”

“I am. So I know a little something about fine pieces. About beauty.” He got down on the bed beside her, tracing her curves, shaping her body with the palms of his hands like she was clay. “You are a masterpiece.”

He pressed a kiss to her stomach, then lower, spreading her thighs and burying his face between them. He would never get enough of this. Of her.

“I don’t think I was ready for the likes of you, Grace Song,” he said, rolling out of bed. “And now I have condom issues to see to.”

“See to them,” she said, waving her hand.

She lay on her back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Not thinking or moving. Then Zack came back into the room, hovering over her.

“You’re blocking my ceiling spot,” she said.

He smiled. “Too bad.” Then he lay down beside her with the subtlety of an earthquake.

“Gah!” she shrieked, popping up off the mattress.

He chuckled and put his hand on her stomach, tracing a shapeless pattern over her skin. “Something wrong?”

“No.”

“I’m tired,” he said. “Can I sleep here with you?”

“You have that gigantic suite,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, but my suite is empty,” he said, pulling her close. “I don’t want to go back to an empty suite. I’m so sick of empty rooms.”

“I bet,” she said, putting her hand over his forearm. She hesitated. She shouldn’t ask him about his past. Shouldn’t ask him about his wife. But she wanted to know. “What happened with your wife?”

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