Page 51 of Snowed in with the Rancher

She moaned as his tongue slipped between her lips. This wasn't a Tate she knew. No, this man wasn't the earnest lover from the ship, nor the distant man from the last few weeks. This Tate was hotter, more alive, gritty, and greedy. His hands roamed over her curves until he cupped her rear and yanked her into him. Acting on instinct, she wrapped one leg around his, her calf behind his knee.

The ache in her nipples intensified as one of his hands stole beneath the stretchy top she wore. He stroked her nipple with his thumb, then cradled her breast in his palm, a desperate noise escaping his throat.

She didn't know who this man was, but she wanted him with every fiber of her being. Wanted to feel his touch on her bare skin, wanted to hear his rough voice in her ears, wanted to be filled by him until she felt as though she would burst like an overripe peach.

Before she knew it, Tate had picked her up without breaking the kiss and turned, striding over to the large potting bench off to the side. Setting her down, he shifted so his back was to the exterior, his big, hot frame protecting her from any potential viewers.

He lifted up her top and freed her breasts from her bra. Then as she arched her neck and moaned his name, he lowered his head, first laving a nipple with his rough tongue, then sucking the tender skin, pulling the plump flesh into his mouth.

“Oh God,” she hissed into the night air as desire overtook her. She ached everywhere, her breath racing, need coiling tight.

“You're so beautiful,” Tate whispered, his lips coasting over her collarbone. And then there were no more words. She felt the release of the button on her jeans followed by the telltale sound of the zipper, and then his fingers slipped beneath fabric and skin touched skin before the heat of his hand nearly sent her springing off the bench when he cupped her mound.

As the party continued inside the lit-up main building, and Olivia's mind went to static, Tate brought the raging need inside her to a tumultuous crescendo, covering her mouth with his before she could cry out in the shadowy greenhouse.

Her breath came in gasps as he slid his fingers inside her and his hips flexed against hers where she was pinned to the bench.

“I need to be in you,” he told her while he thrust two fingers in and out, making her crazy with lust.

With concerted effort, she pushed him back. For a moment, Olivia thought she saw a flash of hurt on his face. Then she lifted her hips to shove down her jeans and panties. Seeing that, he quickly did the same. Even though it was warmer in the greenhouse than it was outside, she'd have to take her boots off in order to get out of her jeans, and that was something she didn't want to do—she hoped this would be enough. Tate seemed to have the same idea; he only pushed his jeans down to his knees before they were once again touching.

He lifted his head and gazed into her eyes, drunk with lust, hot with unslaked need, possessive in a way she'd never felt from any man.

Turning her around, he had her bend over the potting bench, resting on her elbows. His hands were everywhere, touching, fondling as her arousal rose rapidly. His erection was hard pressed at her back, and she went up on tiptoes as she leaned on the bench. They moaned in the same breath when he entered her from behind in one full stroke. Setting a powerful pace, he flexed his hips, driving into her over and over.

Olivia held onto the bench, her moans becoming louder with each dynamic thrust. When they both finally came, she thought she saw stars sparkling behind her tightly closed eyelids.

* * *

Turning around, she looked up at him, his eyes still closed. “What are we doing?” she whispered, softly stroking his stubbled cheek.

Bowing his forehead against hers, he sighed. “Losing our minds?” he asked, chuckling softly before pulling away slightly to kiss the top of her head.

“You can't have it both ways,” she told him softly, gently, because she was nearly as confused as he appeared to be.

“I know,” he admitted. “Maybe I made a mistake.”

“Which time?” she questioned. “When you agreed I should move out of your house, or tonight?”

He didn't answer for a moment, and her stomach churned. She shoved at his chest, but he didn't budge.

“Shh.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Give me a minute. The words don't come all that easy.”

She waited then, not even sure what she hoped to hear, but certain she needed to hear something.

“When I saw you with him, I just…” He paused, taking a long shuddering breath. “I don't know how to do this, and I'm so terrified I'll ruin it.”

Her eyes began to sting as her hand moved to the back of his head and she stroked the soft short hair there.

“I don't know how, either.” Her voice broke as she tried to capture the thoughts that danced through her head like wisps of smoke. “This is all new to me, too.”

“Every time I see you at my dad's house, all I want is to touch you, talk to you, make sure you're okay and the girls are happy.”

The tears overflowed then, and she sniffed. He pulled back to look at her. “I did this to you. I'm so sorry.”

She blinked at him.

“I actually am losing my mind.” He gave her a wry smile, and she laughed softly in spite of the tears.

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