Page 44 of Rancher's Return

“I’ll be careful,” he said.

“Thank you,” she responded.

He moved over the top of her, kissed her neck, slowly, very slowly, stripped the sweater from her body and unclipped her bra. She was as beautiful as he had imagined she would be. Even more so. Because he hadn’t been able to imagine the exact ripe colors, the perfect softness and roundness.

And now he did. He cupped her breast, slid his thumb over her nipple. Watched her arch against his touch. Watched as her face contorted with pleasure. She was so beautiful.

So beautiful.

He growled, kissing her neck, kissing down to the plump curve of her breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth and sucking hard.

Then he moved down the rest of her body, gripping the waistband of her skirt and tugging it down her thighs, taking her underwear with it.

She arched against him, and he held her down against the mattress, parting her legs for him so he could taste all that glory between them.

She was wet for him, and she tasted like heaven.

He gripped her so tight, she couldn’t pull away from him. She was whimpering, crying out, and he could feel her whole body draw tight like a bow as she got closer and closer to the peak.

“Yes,” he growled against her. “Come for me.”

He felt her shatter against his mouth, and he kept on going, pushing two fingers inside of her as he did, as she unraveled completely. There on that sweet little bedspread.

And she was still the responsible, well-ordered mother of a teenager, but her hair was spread out on the pillow like a ring of fire, and her lips were swollen, her cheeks pink with desire.

He was still a man on a mission to be redeemed, a man with a black mark in his past so profound he didn’t think he could ever erase it. A man trying to do right by three teenage boys, a man whose head was filled with plans for a new ranch and plans for the future of the kids he had just taken on.

But he was also wholly here with her. And she was with him.

They were all the things, all at once.

His chest burned with it all.

He moved up her body, kissing a trail along her soft skin, before kissing her mouth, putting his hand between her legs and wringing another climax out of her.

Then, only then, did he reach for his wallet.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Good,” he growled.

He tore open the condom and rolled it over his length, before positioning himself at the entrance to her body. Then he tested her readiness.

“I’m good,” she said.

She gasped as he filled her, and it was tight. But she seemed to want it. Seemed to glory in it. Just as he did. She wrapped her legs around his waist and clung to his shoulders as he began to move.

It was like a baptism. By fire, by grace, by Marigold, and he couldn’t get enough.

Because it was everything, and so was she.

He held on to his own climax as long as he could, gritting his teeth, biting the inside of his cheek to create enough pain that he wouldn’t lose it completely.

And then finally, finally, she shuddered out another climax, and he embraced his own.

He growled out her name as he let the pleasure take him, and then everything was still. Quiet.

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