Page 65 of A Forever Kind of Rancher

Because that was what happened when someone was close to you. As close as a person could be. They had to start moving away at some point.

It was the natural order of things. An inevitability.

It was inevitable and he knew it.

He knew it.

It was just the way of the world. But right now, he was holding her. Firm against his body, and he was holding her so tight he was shaking.

And it would never be enough.

That was the other problem. When you cared about people, no amount of time could ever be enough.

There was no good cut-off point to a relationship. There just wasn’t.

But sometimes things were terminal. And you had to accept it.

It would never feel like quite enough. And he was so unbearably, horribly aware of that as he pressed her soft body against the hard wall of his body and poured every ounce of his need into the kiss.

It was somewhere beyond need. It was desperation.

He stripped her shirt up over her head, but it got hung up on the apron because he couldn’t think. Because he couldn’t do things in the right order.

Hell. That seemed like a metaphor.

He untied the apron and threw it down onto the floor, taking the shirt with it.

She had on a sexy, lacy bra, not the normal kind of thing she wore.

And it was for him. And that mattered more than the bra itself. That she was wearing it for him, and he knew it.

All of this was for him. The coffee, the bacon, the sex. It was his.

And why did that feel terrifying?

Why did this feel like the beginning of the end? He didn’t have an answer for that.

All he had was need.

So he kissed her like he was dying, because he thought he might be.

Because the idea of having to answer the question of what he wanted beyond what he’d already said seemed like a gallows.

And when he had her naked against the wall, he freed himself from his jeans and lifted her leg up over his hip and slid deep inside of her.

He watched her face as he began to move, as he moved deep inside of her, he wanted her. Wanted this. He wanted it to go on forever. But nothing ever did. Nothing ever did. His climax came on too hot, too strong, too fast.

He resented it.

And so he held back, bit the inside of his cheek so he could keep on going. Until she cried out, until her internal muscles pulsed around him. Until she was coming apart all over him, because he needed her to be as shattered as he was.

He needed to gain some control.

He put his hand between them, stroked her, brought her to climax again. He withdrew from her body, and sank to his knees, burying his face between her thighs and licking her until she shattered again.

He would do whatever he had to, to keep this going. Until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Until he was so hard it hurt. Until the memory of what it had been like to be buried inside of her became too much, and he pulled her down onto the floor and over top of him, down onto his length, letting her ride him for two easy movements until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Until he reversed their positions and pounded hard into her. Losing himself in this. In her.

Losing himself entirely.

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