Page 15 of Roughing It with the Rancher

“What?” She asks, shrugging out of her leather jacket and revealing a V-neck, sleeveless black blouse with lace every place I need to put my mouth. Lord, I can barely think, let alone carry on a conversation. To top it off, her close proximity finally puts my nostrils in line with her feminine fragrance, all lilacs, lust, and my fucking ruin. I can’t imagine a better way to go out.

Right then and there, I decide to do whatever it takes to prove our marriage is real. I’m going to teach Esmeralda how a man pleases his woman, pushing her to heights of bliss her innocent blush never imagined. And then, only when she’s thoroughly sated and totally mine, ideally with a miniature cowboy in her belly, will I begrudgingly treasure hunt with her.

“I did not what?”

“Order the same thing as me? Steak and eggs.”

“Well, weren’t you listening when I ordered?” She eyes me curiously.

I can’t admit I was too busy staring at her mouth, so I shrug instead.

“Besides, what else are you going to eat on the first day of a treasure hunt you’ve been waiting four years to undertake?” she asks with a sweet grin.

“That’s true, Angel. You do need to keep your endurance up,” I agree with a dark grin, far naughtier exploits on my mind. She won’t remember her own name, let alone a treasure map, when I’m done awakening her.

Her face is beet-red now as a little of my real meaning sinks in. She purses her lips, begging for a passionate tasting, and it’s confirmed. I’m going to turn Esmeralda’s ulterior motives into the flames fueling our romance. One way or the other.

“By the way, I make a mean steak and eggs. Beef from my ranch, eggs from my coop. Butter from my dairy cows.”

She swallows loudly, her eyes rounding. It’s as if she hasn’t thought through the domestic side of our arrangement. I, on the other hand, can’t think about anything else.

Raising her chin defiantly, I watch her pull herself back together, enjoying the show. “Breakfast will be the least of our concerns once we get back to your ranch and start hunting.”

“That’s right,” I agree, the promise of another kind of hunt devouring me whole.

Chapter Seven

ESMERALDA

“Inow pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride,” the Elvis impersonator says as we stand inside the Heirloom Rose’s world-famous wedding chapel, getting the full Nevada treatment.

Although I knew these words were coming, embarrassment still grips me, and I turn my head at the last minute, landing Reese’s very soft, very kissable lips on my cheek. I tense in his arms, knowing to the marrow of my bones I cannot let this man kiss me.

The rancher’s big, rough, work-hardened hand comes up to my cheek, palming it and turning my head. Before I can respond, he uses his other arm to pull me tightly against his body, sinking into my mouth for the real deal.

Warning alarms go off in my head as his lips tease and feather over mine, surprisingly skilled and tender. I don’t know what I had expected. Maybe a big, sloppy, awful kiss, but this is like a little slice of heaven served up on a golden plate. Sighing with shock, my lips part, and the cowboy goes from gentle to ardent, sweeping into my mouth with his warm, velvety tongue and completely undoing me. My arms come up to his neck,clinging to him as he tilts me back, claiming every part of me and igniting the blood in my veins.

Is this what it’s like to have a husband? If so, I’m already in a world of trouble.

“Alright. Enough, you two. May I introduce Mr. and Mrs. Reese Gunner—” the Elvis impersonator cups his hand to his mouth, whispering next to us—“And urge you to take those hunks of burning love elsewhere.”

The rancher straightens, bringing me with him. Stepping back, he eyes me hungrily, like a starving coyote catching sight of a slow roadrunner.

I pant, unable to catch my breath and wondering for the millionth time what this man is doing to me. My panties sizzle, wet between my legs. I’m going to have to change them thanks to my husband of convenience.

But damn, if I don’t long to wrap my legs around him right here and let him do his dirtiest. One look at his ravenous face confirms it would be far filthier than anything I’ve ever imagined.God, I want him.

Sweeping me into his arms, he calls over his shoulder to the impersonator. “Thank you, sir. Please send our documents over to the cashier’s booth, where I’m picking up my winnings.”

“You’re the Craps guy who won so big today, right?” Elvis calls behind us.

“Yep, thanks to my good luck charm and wife.” Nothing about the way he says this statement sounds fake, and my heart throbs with treacherous delight.

Okay, Esmeralda, get yourself pulled together. Your current trajectory is a sure road to ruin and heartbreak. After all, you barely know this man.

Reese beams at me as I cling to his neck, watching the casino go by.

“Why are you carrying me, Cowboy? Isn’t that something to save for the threshold of your ranch?”

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