Page 25 of Return of the Rancher

Balancing on one elbow, panting, he used his free hand to stroke her nipples gently, to tug. Watching the play of emotion on her face was a revelation.

Her pleasure stoked his higher, a hundred times. Maybe a thousand. When her legs wrapped around his waist, he went deeper. She linked her ankles at the small of his back, her heels digging into his spine.

Somehow, he had forgotten how good it was. The two of them. Naked skin to naked skin. Maybe the sexual amnesia was a form of self-protection. Now that the blinders were off, how would he ever give this up again? When they were married, he had left her bed...had given her up for reasons that he thought were good ones at the time. Was it wrong to take her now when he had hurt her so badly before?

With India arching her back and forcing him a final centimeter, his last ounce of control snapped and vanished in a cloud of need. He surged hard, all the way in.

She cried out his name. Every hair on his body stood. He trembled as if he had a fever. And maybe he did. Maybe it was fatal.

When India returned home, Farris’s world would go dark again.

He ignored his painful thoughts, choosing to concentrate on the carnal instead. He set up a rhythm that tormented them both.

India hadn’t said a word since she uttered his name. Her eyes were still closed, shutting him out.

He was pissed suddenly. Angry. “Look at me, India.”

The snap in his voice got through to her. She obeyed, her gaze locking on his.

He ground the base of his sex against her sensitive spot. “Come for me, Inkie. Come.”

She gasped and moaned. He felt the shudder that racked her body as her orgasm crested, peaked, slid down the other side. Only then did he let himself go all the way, his vision dark, punctuated only with pulses of light that synced to his heartbeat.

Time passed. Who knew how long? It seemed prudent to stand up and deal with the condom, but he couldn’t feel his legs. He expected India to push at his shoulder any moment and demand to be released, but she was oddly quiet. Now that the deed was done, he suspected neither of them had words for this situation. He let himself drift, his face buried in her hair.

In that moment of blissful euphoria, he pondered telling her the truth. He didn’t expect a reunion, even if she forgave him. Some sins were beyond redemption. Of all the mistakes he had ever made, cutting himself off from India had been the worst.

And the secrets...so many secrets...

At last, she stirred. “Let me up,” she said.

He rolled to one side and watched as she slid off the bed, grabbed her pajamas and went to the bathroom.

When she returned, there was no sign of the soft, warm woman who had made love to him so beautifully.

Her face was blank, wiped of all expression. She ran a hand through her hair, yawning. “Dottie will be up in a few hours. I need to get some sleep.”

When she turned to walk out of the room, he panicked. “Wait,” he said urgently. “Shouldn’t we talk about this? Set some ground rules?” Is this a one-and-done, or are you and I going to have sex again?

India turned slowly, facing him. She shoved her hands in the pockets of her sleep pants. Her expression was wry, though not unkind. “Shall I quote you to yourself, Farris? Not all the world’s problems can be solved with a conversation.”

He winced. India was not the same woman he had known. She was tougher, stronger, more willing to call him on his crap. “So what are you saying?”

She yawned again and tucked her hair behind her ears. “I don’t have the emotional bandwidth to handle this or you right now. It’s the middle of the night. Go to sleep, Farris. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

Inside her own room, India closed the door, locked it and leaned against it, mostly because she wasn’t sure her knees would support her any longer.

What had she done?

She’d pretended to Farris that she was tired. Nothing could be further from the truth. Her body felt fizzy, and her skin was hot, even though the air was cool. How could she be both exhilarated and terrified at the same time?

One question had been answered tonight. Farris wanted her sexually. That was more than she had known before. She honestly had believed his lust for her burned out five years ago. Judging by their encounter tonight, that was a lie.

But if he was still attracted to her, why had he ended their marriage?

When she thought she could walk, she found her bed and burrowed beneath the covers, shaking uncontrollably. She needed sleep. But how could she sleep after what had just happened?

Images tumbled through her brain. The way he looked at her. The way he touched her. The desperation in his unguarded gaze.

For a man who was remarkably buttoned-up, he had let India see at least part of his true self tonight. She suspected both of them had tried to make the moment physical only. She certainly wanted it to be that way. But once they were in bed together, all the walls she had put in place to protect herself had crumbled.

She had stroked his hair, giddy with the ability to do so. His warm body had tangled with hers as if they were two puzzle pieces long since lost but finally reunited. Once, she had slipped. She’d said his name. With longing. With tenderness.

Almost immediately, she had locked down those impulses. Women could have impersonal sex. It was possible. But perhaps not with an ex-husband one still cared about deeply. She hadn’t known how deeply until tonight.

The sex might have been just sex for him, but for her it had uncovered a trove of lies—all the half-truths and rationalizations she had used to get herself through the last five years. Now she felt raw, vulnerable. Was she strong enough to play a dangerous game of pretend with the man who had broken her once before?

What was she hoping to gain? Did she even understand her own motives?

Finally, the trembling stopped. Her pulse slowed. Drowsiness claimed her. She had no answers. Even if she went home tomorrow, she would always have tonight.

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