Page 26 of At the Rancher's Pleasure

Seven

“Sweetheart, you always smell so good,” Brett murmured, pushing his nose into the space between her neck and chin, inhaling deeply. “And you are so incredibly hot. I can’t wait to get inside you...”

“I haven’t thought of much else since I left on Friday and if I don’t have you, I’ll lose my mind,” he added, his voice rough with need.

Sarabeth heard his words, sighed at the rasp in his voice, enjoying the heat building in her stomach and her womb. She still didn’t know how to handle his compliments, the sweet mutterings against her skin, in her ear. While they were nice to hear, she had to be careful about believing any of it. Words were easy, especially in the heat of the moment. It wasn’t that she thought Brett was being insincere—she believed he meant everything he said—but bedroom words faded and were easily forgotten.

She couldn’t allow herself to believe them or get swept away by them. But, man, it was difficult.

It was late on a Monday morning, but there in the living room, he efficiently stripped her of her clothes, his face flushed as he looked down at her bare torso. She placed her hand on his erection and sighed at the proof of his desire. Yeah, he wanted her.

Brett hooked his thumbs into the band of her flesh-colored panties and pulled down the fabric. He stared at her thinner than normal landing strip, and she gasped when he ran his finger over the soft hair. “So pretty.”

“I had an appointment at the salon in Royal this morning,” she said, impressed that she could form words when he was touching her so intimately.

“Nice.”

His appreciation made her smile and Sarabeth, impatient now, widened her legs to encourage him to touch her, deeply and intimately, and ignored his muffled laugh at her impatience. Without warning, Brett dropped to his knees and kissed her hip bone, then the top of her thigh, the inside of her leg, his soft stubble brushing ever so gently over her skin.

She needed his mouth on her sex, on that sweet, demanding bundle of nerves.

Sarabeth gripped the back of the sofa for support. “Brett, I need you. Now. Please, please touch me, or kiss me. Just do something!”

“I like it when you beg,” Brett growled, before finally slipping his finger between her folds and touching her...rightthere. Sarabeth shook as electricity shot through her body, sensitizing every inch of her skin. She could barely think, or breathe, and then his hot, thick, talented finger slipped inside her, quickly followed by another. His thumb swept over her clit, and Sarabeth felt the pressure building, fascinated by the rainbow swirling through her.

“Brett, I’m going to come,” she whimpered, all her energy focused on the exhilarating tempest she’d been sucked into.

“No, you’re not,” he told her, sitting back on his haunches, watching her with an intense expression on his face, his fingers still deeply embedded in her.

“Please,” Sarabeth sobbed, lifting her hands to finger her own nipples to keep feeding the colors, the rainbow storm. “Brett—you’re killing me here.”

“Then come for me, baby. Now.” His voice, rough and sexy, skittered across her skin. In a fluid movement, he placed his mouth on her mound, swirling his tongue around her clitoris. He sucked her, once and then again and, deep inside her, his fingers widened and curled and Sarabeth became the rainbow storm. Her hips jerked as she pushed herself against his fingers, hardly aware that he’d lifted his head and that he was watching her fly.

After the colors faded and her shaking stopped, after he pulled his hand from her and held her thighs in a loose grip, her eyes slowly started to refocus on his masculine, so very sexy face. Her heart lurched at his tender, penetrating expression. She pushed a hand through her hair and, because the muscles in her legs felt like noodles and her knees like jelly, resumed her grip on the couch.

“You’re just looking at me?” she softly asked, a little part of her scared at what he would say.

“I am.”

“Why?”

“I know how much you hate being complimented on your looks but youaretruly beautiful, possibly more so when you come.” Brett stood up in a graceful fluid movement and held out his hand. “Come to bed with me?”

Sarabeth quickly nodded.Of course she would.His hand, strong and warm, encircled hers and she followed him, naked, up the stairs to his bedroom.

On Wednesday evening, Brett surprised Sarabeth by telling her that he had made reservations for them to dine at Sheen, Royal’s newest, and hippest, restaurant. Because her future daughter-in-law, Charlotte, worked as the executive chef at the popular, built entirely from glass restaurant, Sarabeth knew they were booked out weeks in advance. Brett had to have some serious connections to have secured a table at such short notice, but she’d recently realized her easygoing lover was a formidable businessman—fair but tough—and wielded quite a bit of power in this small town.

And had she known that he wanted to eat at Sheen—it never crossed her mind—she would’ve asked Charlotte to secure them a booking because Sarabeth knew Charlotte was grateful to her for encouraging Ross to give their relationship another chance. But her son’s fiancée had enough on her plate at the moment—a new relationship, an energetic toddler and a blossoming career—and Sarabeth didn’t want to cause her any additional stress.

“Hi, Faith.” Sarabeth smiled at Sheen’s gorgeous manager, whom she knew to be a good friend of Charlotte’s. “I’m Sarabeth, Ross’s mother.”

Faith greeted her with a wide smile and introduced herself to Brett. As they exchanged small talk, Sarabeth looked over the restaurant and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the wall-to-ceiling glass. She was happy she’d chosen the black, silk jumpsuit. The wide legs and fitted bodice suited her lanky frame, the outfit was classy and wouldn’t, hopefully, draw attention.

Because being with Brett Harston, his hand in hers, was already garnering curious looks, and she could easily imagine the comments of the snooty patrons seated at the restaurant’s tables.

“They are having a torrid affair.”

“She’s at least a decade older than him.”

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