Page 35 of Back in the Texan's Bed
But he refused, couldn’t. To do that, to gaze into those chocolate eyes, might trick him into believing this wasn’t just a physical release. No, he wanted to get lost in her body, in the pleasure, not silly, deceptive notions ofmore. He skimmed one more caress over the light lines on her stomach, then continued lower. And when his lips bumped the waistband of her pants, he didn’t hesitate to pop the closure, unzip and tug them down and off her.
For a moment, he froze. Drinking her in. All that smooth, silken almond skin clad in only green lace. And then, with one yank, not even that.
“Baby,” he growled, raking his teeth across her hip. She jerked, a low cry escaping her. “Easy,” he soothed, sweeping his tongue across the same path. “Hold on to me.”
He issued the command, palming her inner thighs and spreading her wider. On a dark, hungry snarl, he dove into her. He barely heard her sharp scream, almost didn’t feel the bite of her nails in his shoulders. Everything in him focused on her concentrated scent, the addictive taste and her slick flesh. God, he tried to slow down, to invoke the control he was known for. But that proved impossible. With each lap, suckle and swirl of his tongue and lips, he lost more of himself. And in that moment, his sole purpose became bringing her pleasure. Hearing her voice break on his name. Feeling that flutter of her muscles around the fingers he slid inside her.
Her hands grabbed his head, her hips undulating in a wild rhythm that seemed to demand and beg for the release she hovered on the verge of. With a purse of his lips over the stiff nub of flesh cresting the top of her sex and two hard thrusts into her, she toppled into that release. Trembling thighs squeezed his head. Pleasure-thick cries spilled into the room. Her flavor flowed onto his tongue.
This was heaven, his place of sanctuary.
Nothing could touch him here while he was between her legs.
Hunger surged hotter, fiercer inside him, churning in his gut, pounding in his cock. In lightning-quick movements, he stripped his clothes off, only pausing to grab his wallet and remove a condom from it.
He palmed the protection, and though his body roared for relief, to be buried deep inside the flesh his mouth and fingers had just enjoyed, he didn’t rip the foil open. Lifting his gaze to hers, he cupped her cheek and rubbed his thumb over her bottom lip. God, he couldn’t get enough of her mouth. To prove it, he leaned forward and, as gently as the lust raging through him would allow, kissed her.
“You can get up and leave if this isn’t what you want,” he offered, though if she backed out, he might just lose his mind.
“I want this,” she whispered, shifting her hand to his dick. Giving him a tight, hard squeeze that propelled the breath from his lungs. He briefly closed his eyes and ground his teeth, giving himself over to the pleasure that careened through him at the long strokes of her hand. “I want you inside me.”
He carefully nudged her hand aside and tore open the condom wrapper, swiftly sheathing himself. Weaving their fingers together and nabbing a pillow, he guided her off the couch to the floor. The plush carpet cushioned his knees as he crouched over her. Brown eyes steadily met his, and he didn’t look away as he fisted his cock and notched himself at her entrance. He watched her, studying her features for any sign of discomfort, of pain. But she didn’t flinch as he pressed deeper, surging forward. No, it was he who closed his eyes as the wet, tight heat of her parted for him, embraced him.Brokehim.
He shuddered, fighting not to plunge inside her, to rut over her like a beast concerned with only his own gratification. Jesus, he wasn’t even all the way inside her, and he shook with the need to come.
“Ross.” Charlotte slid a hand over his tense shoulder, up the side of his neck and cradled his jaw. “Look at me.” He lifted his lashes, and the sight of her damp lips, flushed cheeks and glazed eyes worsened the struggle for control. “I’m not fragile. Take what you need from me. I can handle it.”
He blew out a hard, ragged breath, buried his face in the crook of her neck—and slammed inside her.
Twin moans filled the room, his dark rumble and her lighter whimper. Fuck, she... A tremble worked over him. She was so damn perfect. Strong. Delicate. Wet. Hot. She waseverything.
With a growl he couldn’t contain, he drew his hips back and thrust forward, powering into her in a greedy stroke. She rose to meet him, her legs wrapping around his hips, and he burrowed impossibly deeper. Palming her ass, he lifted her into him, riding her, grinding into her, burying himself over and over because he couldn’t bear not being balls deep inside the heart of her.
She chanted his name, her nails digging into his back, scratching him.Markinghim. Yes. God, yes. He wanted that physical claim of ownership—
He shook his head, his mind rebelling at the thought even as he owned her body. Not ownership. Pleasure. He wanted the physical evidence that he could render her mindless with his touch, his cock. Nothing else mattered.
Gritting his teeth, he levered off her, sliding his arms underneath her thighs and hiking them higher, spreading her wider. He pistoned into her, the sound of damp skin slapping together, of his grunts and her moans littering the air. Electric currents sizzled and snapped up and down his spine, even the soles of his feet. But he held on, fought the surge of ecstasy that heralded an orgasm that might take him out of here. Not without her, though.
Reaching between them, he swept his thumb over the top of her sex, circling the little nub of flesh. Circling, then pressing. Hard.
Charlotte stiffened, her back arching hard, her beautiful breasts pointed toward the ceiling. Unable to resist the lure of them, he bowed over her, sucking a nipple deep, thrusting and riding out the orgasm that clutched her in its powerful grasp. A strangled cry escaped her, and she shook, her sex clamping down on him in a bruising grip. Yes, dammit. He wanted to be bruised, to still feel that steel-and-silk clasp tomorrow.
As her tremors started to subside, he gave his own needs free rein. Releasing her breast with a soft pop, he reared back and let go. Each thrust shoved him closer to that crumbling, death-defying edge. Until he just leaped. Bone-cracking pleasure punched into him, and as the orgasm barreled over him, he didn’t fight it.
Didn’t fight the rapture.
Didn’t fight her.
Didn’t fight himself.
He surrendered, and for tonight—for this moment—it was all right.
Ten
Ross stood at the window of the Texas Cattleman’s Club meeting room, and a sense of déjà vu whispered over him. Hell, had it only been a few weeks since he’d stood here with his father, siblings and Billy, signing the contract for Soiree on the Bay? So much had happened since then. He’d bumped into the woman who’d haunted him for three years, had discovered he was a father and had been disinherited. He shook his head. And to think, when he’d been finalizing those documents, all he’d seen ahead of him was money, success and partying.
Scoffing lightly, he turned and headed to the serving set the club staff had laid out on the small conference table. He poured himself a cup of coffee and sipped, glancing down at his watch. A couple of minutes before one. His stomach twisted, and he clenched his jaw. Another thing that had changed. Never had nerves attacked him at the thought of seeing his sister and brother. They were his best friends—no, more than that. When people survived wars together, that made them closer than blood because their relationship was forged in conflict, battle and grief. Rusty’s marriages and divorces had been combat they’d endured, their childhood the battlefield where the three of them had bonded.
