Page 16 of Ghosted Cowboy
Years of wanting, of dreaming, of aching for this exact moment. And it was better than I remembered. Better than any fantasy I'd tortured myself with during endless lonely nights in cheap motels.
She tasted like heaven. Like coming home.
Her arms went around my neck and she pressed closer, opening for me. I deepened the kiss, my tongue sweeping intoher mouth, claiming her, showing her without words how much I'd missed this. How much I'd missed her. She made a desperate sound in her throat, and it nearly undid me.
I backed her toward the crushed velvet settee, never breaking the kiss. She went willingly, eagerly, making those sounds that drove me out of my mind. When the backs of her legs hit the furniture, I lowered her onto it, following her down, covering her body with mine.
"Ransom," she breathed against my mouth. "God, I've wanted—"
"I know, baby. I know." I kissed along her jaw, down her throat, tasting her skin. "Me too. Every damn day."
She was already fumbling with the buttons of her blouse—still in her costume from rehearsal. Period clothing, authentic down to the tiny pearl buttons that seemed designed specifically to test a man's patience.
"Let me," I rasped, catching her hands. "I've been dreaming about undressing you for five years. Let me do this slow."
"Slow?" Her laugh was breathless. "Ransom, I need—"
"I know what you need." I worked the first button free, kissed the skin I revealed. "And I'm gonna give it to you. All of it. But first, I'm gonna take my time."
I worked each button free with deliberate care, kissing every inch of skin I uncovered. The hollow of her throat where her pulse fluttered wildly. The upper swell of her breasts above her bra—plain cotton, practical, and somehow more erotic than any lace. The valley between them. The smooth plane of her stomach that quivered under my lips.
"You're killing me," she whispered.
"Good." I peeled the blouse off completely, tossed it aside. "Because you've been killing me for years."
The emergency lighting cast strange shadows across her skin, turning the moment dreamlike. But Rainey was real—warmand soft and trembling beneath me. Her bra was simple, white cotton, and when I reached behind her to unhook it, my hands were steadier than they had any right to be.
I pulled the covering away and just looked at her for a moment. "God, you're beautiful."
She reached for my shirt, tugging it up. "You too. Off."
I stripped it over my head, then went back to worshipping her. Her breasts fit perfectly in my palms, her nipples hardening under my thumbs. When I took one into my mouth, she arched up with a sound that made me painfully hard.
"Ransom—oh God—"
I worked her with my mouth and tongue, paying attention to what made her gasp, what made her arch, what made her grip my hair and pull. I moved to her other breast, giving it the same treatment while my hand slid down her stomach to the waistband of her skirt.
"Can I?" I asked against her skin.
"Yes. God yes. Please."
I made quick work of the skirt and her panties, tossing them aside. Then I sat back on my heels and just looked at her—spread out on the old sofa, wearing nothing but dancing shadows and a smile.
"You have any idea how long I've wanted to see you like this?" My voice came out rough.
"Show me." Her eyes were dark with want. "Show me what you've been thinking about."
I kissed my way down her body, taking my time. Her ribs. The dip of her navel. The jut of her hipbone. Lower, spreading her thighs, settling my shoulders between them.
She was already wet, already ready for me. The sight made my cock throb painfully against my jeans.
"Oh God," she breathed when she realized my intention. "You don't have to—"
I looked up at her through the dimness. "I want to. Been dreaming about this. About how you taste. How you sound. How you feel when you come on my tongue." I dragged one finger through her wetness, making her hips jerk. "Tell me you want this too."
"Yes." Her voice broke. "God yes. I want—I need—"
I put my mouth on her.
