Page 33 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

And there was no use comparing her to anyone else. No use comparing the way his need for her tightened his gut, made his body so hard it hurt, made him tremble with the need to be inside of her. Because there was nothing worthy of drawing comparison to. There was nothing like her. And there never could be.

He moved his hands down to her thigh, gripped it and lifted her leg so it was bent over his hip, then he moved her back against the kitchen island so he could press himself against her, let her feel, at the center of her need for him, just how much he wanted her. She gasped into his mouth, and rolled her hips forward. “Yes,” he whispered against her lips.

And he knew he could get lost even in this. And moving his body against hers fully clothed, like they were a pair of desperate teenagers. And he would find pleasure in that. Because already, he had found more satisfaction in his mouth on hers than any previous sexual encounter had ever brought.

Maybe this was delayed gratification. Maybe this was just the way it went when you wanted somebody for years and couldn’t have them. Maybe this was the release of self-denial followed by action. Or maybe it was simply Wendy.

He couldn’t answer the question, or maybe he just wouldn’t.

He would leave it a mystery. Intentionally. Wound up in a tangle he could easily undo if he pulled at the right thread. He knew where the right thread was.

But there were some mysteries best left tangled.

And that was the truth.

But there was no need for deeper truths than the one passing between their lips now, and there was no need for honesty any deeper than the raw need that coursed through his veins. It was enough. And anything more was likely to destroy them both, and it would be nice if, at the end of all of this, they could stand on their own two feet.

Because he didn’t want to reduce her, and maybe even more than that, he didn’t want to reduce himself. He wasn’t a saint, after all, and he had never claimed to be.

He was simply a man. One who was held in the thrall of the desire he felt toward the woman in his arms.

And even though he could’ve stayed like this forever, he didn’t want something juvenile and desperate to mark the first sexual encounter between them. He wanted it to be her, and him, and nothing in between.

So he lifted her up again, and began to propel them both toward the stairs.

She clung to him, lifting her other leg and wrapping them both around his waist, holding fast as he propelled them both up, and then down the hallway toward his bedroom.

And he knew he would have to address the subject of barriers, especially because she’d been with a man she couldn’t trust, and it was going to take a deep amount of trust to want to be with someone like that again.

And he would never violate her trust. Not out of desire, not out of selfish need. Not for any reason at all.

And he would never be lost enough in his own arousal to lose sight of her.

Because she was the reason. She was the answer to the question. She was the fuel for the fire raging through him now, so how could he turn his focus inward? He couldn’t. Ever.

When they got to his bedroom, he set her down gently on the foot of the bed, and knelt before her, lifting his hand to cup her cheek. “I have condoms,” he said.

“I have taken every test known to man recently out of an abundance of caution.”

He nodded. “I trust you. But you don’t have any reason to trust me.”

She looked at him, her blue eyes seeming to go deeper than his skin. “I don’t have any reason to trust Daniel. But you’ve never given me a reason to not trust you. You gave me a place to go, and I know you didn’t do it so we would end up here. I trust that. I know nothing you did was to manipulate me. To use me. You’ve never been anything but honest with me, Boone.”

“I want you. Without one. I don’t want anything between us. But I will do whatever you need to feel safe.”

“Well, I’m protected from pregnancy. So if...”

That did a weird thing to him. To his gut. Because the idea of Wendy being pregnant with his baby didn’t make him scared or upset at all.

It made him feel something else altogether, and that made him a little bit scared. Made him a little bit upset.

“Good. Then we don’t need it.”

He moved away from her and stripped his shirt up over his head.

This was happening. And it was everything he wanted.

He just had to make sure he survived it.

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