Page 31 of Back in the Texan's Bed
They proved to be an insubstantial barrier to his tongue, his teeth, his passion. He drew on her, alternating with a quick lash and a lush lick. Big, capable hands cupped her, molded her, lifted her to his lips and plucked at the peak that hadn’t received his mouth yet.
She sank onto his lap, her sex grinding against the steely length of his cock. With a ragged groan, she tipped her head back on her shoulders, clinging to his head and working his erection. Lust had a way of burning away good sense, shame and inhibition. And as she rode him, circling her hips, bucking against him, racing toward an ending that she would gladly fly into, she shed all of them.
With an impatient growl, Ross tugged down the top of her tank and her bra cup. That needy sound roughened as he bared her to his gaze and his mouth. He switched to her neglected breast, drawing it deep to grant it the same erotic attention, and she trembled, unable to tear her enraptured gaze from the sight of him loving her body. His hand slipped down her belly, not stopping at the waistband of her black leggings, but sliding underneath. Drifting lower... Until he stroked a caress over wet, aching flesh.
“Ross,” she breathed, stiffening as pleasure arced through her, momentarily stunning her. His attention on her breasts—God, yes, it was good. But this? This light but firm strumming of the taut nerves cresting her sex? The delicious stroke between her swollen folds? This defied “good” and rammed straight into “exquisite.”
“I need it,” she pleaded, hips jerking and rolling in an uncontrolled rhythm. “I need it so badly. Please.”
Hunger reduced pride to smoldering cinders. Desperation razed caution to the ground. She wanted this man with a desire that should’ve scared her. Maybe later, when lust didn’t cloud her mind, it would. But not at this moment, with those elegant fingers swirling a diabolical caress around that sensitive nub. Not when she hovered on the verge of coming apart with him for the first time in three long years.
He hushed her, freeing her breast with a soft pop then reclaiming her mouth again. The indulgent thrust of his tongue, the luxurious tangle reflected his touch down below. He glided through her sex, fingers flirting with her entrance before slowly, deliberately pumping into her.
She cried into his mouth, and he greedily took it. On a rumble of pleasure, of approval, he withdrew, then stroked back into her, burying one then two fingers inside her grasping core. Pleasure spun, a crazy, blinding storm that built and built, threatening to sweep her away and never return her to who she’d been before she made the impulsive decision to start this.
Her fingers scrabbled at his shoulders, clutching at his head, as she held on for the inevitable climax. Yet, even as her hips bucked and ground against his hand, her body demanding more, she fought that ending. She feared never feeling this again, neverhavingthis again.
Pushing the thought aside, she buried her face in his throat and chanted soundless words against his skin. But maybe he heard them, because he thrust harder. Curled his fingertips against that high, soft-and-hard place so deep inside her.
And she surrendered.
To the pleasure. To the power. To the lust.
She shattered, and as his low, insistent and ragged voice urged her to fuck his fingers, to take everything, she threw herself into the fire, knowing she would emerge scarred, marked...
Changed.
And not for the better.
Nine
“Thank you for leaving work early to do this with me.” Ross glanced across the middle console of his Aston Martin toward the silent woman perched on the passenger seat.
Charlotte stared out the window, her hands folded on top of her thighs, her spine poker straight. His gaze trailed over the tight bun of her hair, the almost fragile beauty of her profile and the sensual pout of her mouth. Clenching his jaw, he dragged his perusal back to the road where it belonged. Where it was safer for a number of reasons.
Aside from the obvious, with his attention focused squarely on driving, he couldn’t stare at her and reminisce on how good that mouth had softened against his. How the flavor of her still lingered nearly two days later. How he could still feel the tight grip and flutter of her silken, hot sex on his fingers.
Jesus, she’d nearly burned him alive. The memories of how they’d been together hadn’t compared to the reality of Charlotte in his arms, twisting on his lap, screaming in release. A shiver rippled through him, and he shifted on his seat, his body stirring, hardening. This was what she did to him. And it scared him what he’d do—what he’d give up—just for another chance to have her over him. Under him.
To be inside her.
“I agreed to go to the ranch with you and introduce Ben to your family,” she murmured, yanking him from his thoughts. Thankful for the distraction, Ross checked the rearview mirror to see their son asleep in his car seat.
It was nine o’clock at night, which was past his bedtime. But when they returned from Telluride the day before, Rusty hadn’t been in town. He’d just arrived this afternoon, and Ross didn’t want to put this introduction off any longer. His father, Gina and Asher needed to meet his son, so they could all start on this road to being family. He didn’t worry about his sister and brother as much as Rusty. But Ross clung to the hope that once his father laid eyes on this beautiful little boy, he would set aside his stubbornness and anger and embrace him as his grandson. Embrace Ben’s mother, as well.
“Does Rusty know that we’re coming?” she asked in that same even, flat tone that contained no emotion.
He tossed another glance in her direction. That note in her voice. It rubbed him the wrong way. As did her reluctance to evenvisitthe ranch. He accepted her reasons for not wanting to live at his home, even if he still didn’t agree with them. But something small, almost undecipherable continued to needle him like an irritating bee sting. Like there was more to her objection than she was telling him...
“Ross?”
He gave his head an abrupt shake. “Yes,” he replied, his fingers curling around the steering wheel in a tighter grip. “I spoke with him earlier and told him we were coming over. And why.”
“I hope this turns out the way you want,” she said. “For your sake, I really do.”
He didn’t reply because the turnoff to Elegance Ranch appeared before him. Yet, it didn’t prevent an ominous trickle from tripping down his spine. Shaking it off, he slowly drove to the big gate with its elegant scrolls ofEandRworked into the black iron, and lowered his visor. He and Rusty had experienced their difficulties and disagreements, but when it came down to it, family and the Edmond name meant more to his father than anything else. Rusty might threaten, but he’d never abandoned him like Ross’s mother had. Grim assurance rolled through him as he pressed the button on the automatic gate opener. No, Rusty was guilty of a lot of things but he wouldn’t—
“Son of a bitch,” he growled. He jabbed the button again. But the gate remained shut. “He did it,” he whispered, shock crackling through him on an electrified, discordant wave. “The bastard really did it.”
