In Made for Each Other, the sex is phenomenal, but the dates fall flat. Just when it seems these two opposites are destined to have nothing but a brief fling, fate throws them together one last time. Will they set aside their prejudices long enough to discover they really are made for each other?
In Beau and the Lady Beast, a woman with a beastly reputation…a man so gorgeous he could have any woman…and a secluded castle in the middle of the forest. Beau wants her, and by damn, he's going to have her. But once she's his captive, can Beau win the heart of the Lady Beast?
In Lily in Bloom, no flower blooms before its time. As 29-year-old Ryan Kincaid leads 43-year-old Lily Martin on a sexual odyssey, Lily uncovers the feminine power that has been sleeping within her. But can what she's building with this younger hunk be enough to last a lifetime?
In A Little R & R, when widow Rebecca Scott finally takes the vacation of her dreams as a 'dude' at a Colorado ranch, she never expects to lasso the heart of sexy rancher Rafe Lassiter. Time away from home and routine is supposed to give Rebecca the jolt she needs to plan the rest of her life. It is not supposed to be for sly innuendos, steamy kisses or sensual discoveries. Rafe has always avoided the dudes, focusing his attention, heart and soul, on his ranch. Suddenly he finds himself playing host to the most appealing woman he's ever met. Before long, he yearns to corral Rebecca for good, but understands that taming this particular filly is going to require all the patience and skill he can muster. Complicating his master plan are his brothers, her grown kids, and a secret hidden within the nearby Anasazi ruins.
MADE FOR EACH OTHER
He was hard, and it was all her fault.
The way Lesley Farmer saw it, he had two immediate problems. The first, and most urgent, hung six feet above his head in the master bedroom. Sporting dark brown limbs and lush green leaves, the Manitoba Maple had been upright and stalwart, shading his back yard, up until about two hours ago. Now it seemed intent on making a place for itself indoors. The second problem, less obvious, he hoped, hung between his legs. It was the fastest and strongest erection he’d ever sprouted and would appear to have been inspired solely by the presence of the woman standing next to him.
“That is one big piece of wood,” contractor Charlie McKinley said.
Lesley kept his eyes focused on the ‘break and enter’ tree, bit back the ‘thank-you’ that rolled from his throat to his tongue, and murmured his agreement. He was trying to figure out just what it was about this woman that set his sap to rising. She was definitely not his usual type. He liked petite, dainty women. ‘Dainty’ didn’t suit Ms. McKinley. She almost matched his six one height, and her blond hair was cut in a sleek, face-framing cap. Form fitting jeans and tee left no doubt of her femininity, though. She was very easy on the eyes, and there was no mistaking the affect she was having on his body. He just hoped that her attention would remain on the intrusive limb above their heads, and that she would not discover the one in his pants.
“From my experience,” she continued, “I can tell you that it’s going to require expert handling.”
“You’re not qualified to take care of it yourself, then?”
“I’d need a crane to lift that sucker.”
She said sucker. Lesley had to use every ounce of his willpower to pull his mind away from sex and focus it on the situation at hand. He figured that if he didn’t, his mouth was going to get him into deep, serious trouble. So he gave the brown and green intruder one more detailed study, then boldly turned to face Ms. McKinley. His focus was entirely on her, his question direct, spoken as if he didn’t have a raging hard-on between his legs.
“Do you know anyone who has the expertise to handle it?”
“Yes, I know a guy who runs a tree service. His rates are the best in town. But the roof and interior ceiling repair, once the tree’s out, are things that I can do.”
Lesley nodded briskly, once, then turned his attention back to the tree. He’d caught the slight flicker of her eyes away from his face and knew that she’d seen his condition. Well, this is probably the most embarrassing moment of my life to date. He was a man. He was tough. He could take it…he hoped.
From his peripheral vision, he watched as Ms. McKinley brought her glazed eyes back into focus, licked her lips, swallowed, then fastened her attention overhead on the tree. Maybe not so embarrassing if she liked what she saw.
“I won’t be able to begin an estimate on the repairs until that woody…I mean tree…is out of that hole…off the roof.”
He swallowed his laughter as he realized he wasn’t the only one affected by raging hormones. That was a relief. Even as he considered the situation, his own eyes wandered, and caught the beading of her nipples, just discernable under the covering of her t-shirt. It occurred to him then that they had both been silent for a long time, staring at that damn tree as if it was the most fascinating sight either of them had ever seen. He was trying to figure out what to do next when the sound of the grandfather clock in the living room announcing the half hour snapped Lesley back to reality. Hell, he was going to be late.
“If you’d be so kind as to arrange for this tree to be removed, Ms. McKinley, I’d appreciate it. I’d also like an estimate on the repair. I don’t know if my insurance company will want additional quotes or not. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
“Some do, some don’t,” she replied as she opened her clipboard. “If you’ll just give me a few moments and answer a couple of routine questions, I’ll fill out a work order for you to sign, sir.”
Her snooty tone caught him off guard. It certainly wasn’t his fault that they were both in this strange erogenous zone. Screw it, two can play that game. “My neighbor, Mrs. Crosby, will be over in a moment and will lock up after you’re done, Ms. McKinley. I have to get to the university library. Here’s my number, you can let me know when that estimate is ready.”
He held out the business card and raised one eyebrow, daring her to take it. Her frown told him he’d scored a bulls-eye with his response.
“You have to go to the library? Now?”
“Since I’m the Director of Library Services, I’d better.”
“I appreciate the business, Mr. Farmer. I’ll see if I can get Jake over immediately to get this tree out. Then I’ll cover the hole with a tarp. The forecast isn’t calling for rain, but it is spring in southern Ontario. You just never know.”
“Thank you, Ms. McKinley.” Considering her for a moment, he gave in to his inner imp. “I wouldn’t want to get…wet in my bed.”
“Well, if I have anything to say about it, Mr. Farmer, you’ll stay as dry and safe as a kitten.”
He’s wearing a tweed jacket and a bowtie and I am toast. How could she ever have guessed that seeing the man dressed in such staid clothing would turn her on like this? She swallowed hard and couldn’t take her gaze away from his as he opened the screen door and came inside.
“You have something for me?”
The rasp of his voice sent shivers up and down her spine. Her eyes flicked to the front of his trousers, then back up again, and heat washed through her.
“I do?” Charlie was having trouble concentrating. She wondered how he knew what she wanted to give him. His condition was right out there, but there was no way he could see through her Capris to know…he meant the quote. Didn’t he? She picked up the envelope that had slipped onto her desk from nerveless fingers. She noted that it was shaking in her hand and wondered why that was. Her nipples tightened painfully. She saw that Lesley had his gaze fastened on her hand as well. She would have thought, all things considered, that his line of sight would have been drawn higher by a few degrees. But it seemed as if he was working very hard to keep his eyes off her chest. That should have been calming. It shouldn’t have been erotic and arousing, but it was.
“Do you have any idea what the hell is going on between us?” Lesley asked, his voice harsh, his breathing shallow.
“No. No idea. This has never happened to me before.” Charlie dropped the envelope again and took two steps out to the side, away from her desk.
“Not to me, either. We’re both mature, rational adults.” Lesley took one step closer to her, a step that was forward and a little left of where he’d been standing.
“Right. Just because we’re aware of a little chemistry,” Make that a bubbling cauldron of caustic chemicals, she thought. Her lips were dry and she moistened them with her tongue.
“Doesn’t mean we have to act on it,” Lesley said.
She watched as he took one last step forward. She moved too, until mere inches separated them.
“Of course not. We’re certainly in control of our own actions.”
Who took that last step Charlie couldn’t say. The reality was that her body fused to his in a grasping embrace, her lips and tongue devouring his in a kiss that was hot, wild, and totally carnal. Moans and groans and gasps were interspersed with the action of her shirt being grabbed, removed, and dropped. Charlie shuddered and sighed. Her own hands stilled when her naked breasts were cupped in shaking male hands. Ah, much better than my fantasy, she thought. She melted as his deft fingers stroked and plucked and her nipples responded as if this was the touch they’d craved forever. Then, with renewed vigor, she continued the adventure of opening his shirt.
His chest was dusted with brown hair her hands were drawn to explore. Her lips slid into a Cheshire-cat grin as he cursed softly, his concentration broken. With definite devilry on her mind, she set her mouth on him, licking, nipping, and sucking.
“Minx. Give me your mouth,” he whispered.
She fused her mouth on his again. Surprisingly strong arms lifted her up. She wrapped her arms around him and their lips locked, their tongues tasted and delved. One hand peeled the Capris from her body. There was no thought of resistance on her part, only of completion. She was being carried and she didn’t care where. She heard the drag of a zipper, knew she was being lowered and wrapped her legs around his waist. The leather of the weightlifting bench was under her. He pulled her closer and still her mouth clung to his.
“Let me, baby, please let me,” he whispered against her lips.
Reason fled, and all she cared about, all she wanted, was to feel this man, hot and hard, deep inside her. She breathed her agreement then shivered as the hot flesh of his cock nudged aside the crotch of her panties. In response to that heat, to the plea, her hips undulated forward.
“Shit. Fuck. Damn. Condom,” he gasped.
“On the pill. I’m clean. Please!”
“Okay. Me, too. But still,” one hand left her back and she felt him maneuvering. She caught sight of a wallet, then heard the crinkle of plastic.
“Don’t leave home without it,” he quipped between clenched teeth as he deftly rolled the protection on.
“Better than a credit card,” she replied, torn between twin urges to laugh and scream.
Then she sighed as with one bold stroke he was buried in her to the hilt.
It didn’t matter that they were sitting facing each other straddling an exercise bench. Only the contact between them mattered. Forehead to forehead, eyes locked, they rocked together and apart as the primal rhythm seized them both.
“Yeah, like that, deeper.” Charlie’s cries were in tune with the driving of his flesh into hers. Nothing was important except that she get as much of this magnificent thrusting as she could. His penis was big and she was stretched more than she’d ever been stretched before, but there was no discomfort, only a keen craving for more and still more.
“You’re so hot and wet and tight around me.”
His words enflamed her. Charlie whimpered, as she couldn’t seem to get close enough to him. The rub of his trousers on her sensitive flesh, just below where they were joined was both an irritant and a stimulant. She was nearly overcome with the urge to lie back and surrender completely. When she moaned again, she felt his fingers seeking, and finding, her clitoris.
BEAU AND THE LADY BEAST
“You want me to what?”
Beau Brannigan took a moment to appreciate the sight of Isadora MacLean in full temper. Living up to her reputation for having a beastly disposition, she’d surged to her feet, her breath heaving in a way that showcased her lovely silk-covered breasts.
Her scowl told him she’d noticed him ogling her chest. He flashed her a grin and answered, “Become my hostage for the next three days. It’s a small enough price to pay for fifteen percent of your company. Let’s see…going with the most conservative estimates, fifteen percent of twenty million dollars is three million. Divide that by seventy-two hours, and that’s damn near forty-two thousand dollars an hour.”
Beau watched the shock wash through her and waited while she slowly lowered herself onto her chair. He wasn’t going to point out this deal could effectively make her the most expensive courtesan of all time.
She’d certainly looked stunned when he revealed he’d purchased the stocks from one of her largest single shareholders. He understood the step she’d taken more than a decade before with her ISO had been, in her mind, a necessary evil. He also knew that ever since, she’d been buying up shares when they became available. Some had referred to the process as the Lady Beast’s Holy Grail. The fifteen percent he’d just waved under her nose represented one hell of a big chunk of her company. Vital to her and valuable to him only because it gave him what he’d craved for the last year—the chance to get his hands on Isadora. It didn’t matter, her being a dozen years older than he. He wanted her, and by damn, he was going to have her.
“Are you out of your mind? You want me to give you seventy-two hours of my time? To do what?”
“It isn’t your time so much I want. It’s you. And to do, Isadora, whatever it is I tell you to do.”
Beau’s plan was risky, that was certain. He understood her well enough to know she’d be suspicious of any overt attempt on his part to court her. Better to keep her off balance by way of an indecent proposal. When she was in his home, when he’d spent some time with her, would be soon enough to reveal his heart. He smiled. Sliding forward slightly on his chair, he put his elbows on her desk.
“Tomorrow at noon, my car and driver will arrive at your home. You’ll be driven to my country estate, about an hour outside of town. Once inside the gates of my property, you will become a voluntary hostage, completely subservient to my every whim. Oh, and you don’t need to pack a bag.”
“You want me to come to your home in the country for the weekend and not pack anything? Not bring a change of clothes? That’s totally ridiculous. You’re not making any sense at all.”
“Of course I am. If I require you to wear any clothes while you’re my guest, I’ll provide them.”
He could tell by the look on her face she finally understood what he wanted.
“You…me…you…if I wear clothes? You want me to be naked?”
“In my experience, having sex is easier if the parties involved are naked.”
“Sex. You and me. Are you crazy? You think I’m going to have sex with you?”
“In exchange for fifteen percent of your company? Yes, I think you will. You look a little piqued, darling. Why don’t I make you some tea?”
She was, he mused, a woman who obviously liked to have her creature comforts at her fingertips. A tiny service area took up one corner of her office. Beau blessed all those years spent in front of a camera when he’d been dubbed the most beautiful man alive. The skills he’d acquired then allowed him to affect a relaxed pose. She wouldn’t see his nerves. He could hear the sound of her sputtering, but not her actual words.
Using the hot water dispenser, it took only moments to make a cup of tea and set it before her. He resumed his seat, and his bravado...
The blindfold was soft, and he had it in place before she could take a breath. She felt him fastening it, the way one would fasten a watchband or a belt. It fit snugly, and she could see nothing. Blind and immobilized, she waited, totally at Beau’s mercy.
She felt his body press against her back and she gasped for his hands came around her, touching her everywhere. It wasn’t until she felt him cup her naked breasts she realized he’d unfastened the bra.
“I’ve wanted my hands on you for so long. I would see you across the room at cocktail parties and imagine you here, naked, mine to take. I would be trading snappy repartees with you at those functions and dream of the day I would have you hot and needy, writhing under me. Wanting only me.”
Heat washed through her, and she could only moan in response. Her head fell back, and she heard his chuckle, low and deep, felt it roll through her belly. She was completely seduced, and if only he knew it, completely his already. Despite her nervousness, despite the situation, she knew she could trust Beau Brannigan, as she had trusted no other man. Completely and absolutely.
“You like having your breasts played with? They’re luscious. Plump and ripe…and mine. How do they taste?”
He stole her breath when he moved around and suckled her. His hands stroked her ass and up and down her back. He used teeth and tongue and lips on one breast, then the other. His movements varied in speed, slow at first, then, unexpected, he’d feed ravenously. Unable to see, suspended, she felt disoriented, and emotionally off-balance. Sometimes breath-soft, other times sharp, almost painful, he doled out delicious torture.
“Please.” She couldn’t stop the plea, which came from her soul.
He moved his mouth up her body, then settled on her lips in a totally carnal kiss. She wanted to give everything and take even more. Her tongue met his, stroked and danced and tasted. Her arousal blossomed in the pit of her stomach, spreading out in all directions. Her hips moved convulsively, and she cried out when he moved himself out of their reach.
“Yes, you like your tits sucked. Let’s see how you like this.”
Isadora heard movement, something sliding, and then something soft and gentle caressed her. Whatever it was floated softly back and forth across her breasts, making her nipples pucker even more.
“The strands of this flail are velvet. Gentle, but they aren’t always.”
She heard him step back, and a whistle in the air. She nearly shrieked when the lashes of the flail streaked across her breasts. It hurt, but only a little. She clenched the lips of her pussy when it struck her again, and then a third time. She couldn’t believe how the light pain increased her arousal. A fine electric current seemed to run from the strands of the flail through her entire body. She couldn’t hold back the moan of pleasure.
Beau laughed softly, cupped her breasts, and placed gentle kisses on each. “A bit pink, but no real marks,” he whispered, just before he suckled her some more. “And you liked it. I can tell. Let’s see if you like this, too.”
He stepped away, and she heard a tiny bell-like clang. Then, she sensed him step close, felt his cool breath on her still-damp nipple. The bud puckered even tighter.
The metal felt cold against her hot flesh...
LILY IN BLOOM
The black helmet with tinted glass concealed the rider’s identity as well as the tight leather of his jacket outlined his chest. If he’d been wearing a cape, she might have imagined him a villain in a space movie. But where the helmet betrayed nothing, the stretched fabric across his chest shouted MAN.
Her heart raced. Having a motorcycle roar down her country lane had stirred a primal fear within her. Despite having lived nearly a month in the country, she remained a city girl at heart, with a city girl’s fear of bikers and gangs. She’d very nearly bolted for the safety of the house, and locked doors. But the fight or flight dilemma within her had taken a few moments too long to sort out. Now she faced a stranger who seemed to know her name, while his identity remained a mystery.
He took his time, she thought, turning off the bike, removing his gloves. She couldn’t take her eyes off him as he slowly reached up and unsnapped the strap that held the protective headgear in place. Almost like slow motion, he lifted the heavy helmet up and off, eyes closed, and shook his head, his long hair dancing on the breeze.
She’d seen him just a couple of months ago, at Uncle Mark’s funeral. He’d been one of the pallbearers. Since her uncle had made all the arrangements, she’d no idea of his name. But even then, he’d seemed familiar to her, somehow.
“Figured it out yet?”
Oh, hell. Memories of a long ago summer washed through her. How could she be aroused and embarrassed at the same time? She felt her cheeks turn red, and wished the Earth would simply open up and swallow her.
“Ryan. I didn’t recognize you.”
“With my clothes on?”
“I meant my riding clothes, of course.”
A lively twinkle in his eyes told her he’d been aware of her that night, all those years ago.
He dropped his clothes right in front of her.
Lily should have said something the instant he came into view, but she didn’t. Instead, she stepped back just enough to hide in the shadows. And she stood, a silent witness, a hidden voyeur, as he stripped.
The son of her uncle’s neighbor, he’d been introduced to her a few days before. Ryan Kincaid was only sixteen.
The moon, bright in a cloudless sky, painted his flesh with silver streaks of light, an incandescent glow that glistened and aroused. His chest, broad and manly, nearly barren of hair, made her mouth water. He must work hard. Even from this distance, she could see highly defined muscles. His hands went to the front of his shorts, and a part of Lily’s brain told her to look away. As a married thirty-year-old mother of two, she had no right playing voyeur. But held captive by the moonlight, the night, and the glorious sight of this emerging Adonis, she looked on.
The moonlight focused on his completely naked, magnificent form, like a spotlight would a performer on the stage.
Lily forgot the sleeplessness that had chased her from her bed. Seeking only the open air and a chance to dip her feet in the pool on this steamy August night, she’d instead been given a visual erotic temptation.
Lily’s nipples beaded beneath her simple cotton nightshirt. Ryan stretched, slowly turning right and then left, performing warm-up exercises that warmed Lily inside and out. Clenching her legs together, she tried to stem the flow of moisture dampening her panties.
She’d been married more than a decade and had never been this aroused.
Ryan stretched his hands overhead, bending backwards slightly. Lily’s eyes zeroed in on his cock. Fully erect, proud, it called to her, a forbidden call of lust and need. She couldn’t help but compare it to Reg’s, her husband. How could a sixteen-year-old young man have a larger, more beautiful penis than a fully-grown man? But he did, and she found herself wondering, for the first time in her life, how a cock would taste. Her entire body shivered as she could almost imagine herself on her knees before him, ready to worship that stiff rod with lips and tongue, eager to taste, then to lie back, spread her legs, and…
The sound of a splash pulled her from her sensuous haze. Ryan had dived into the pool, leaving Lily alone and bereft, and more than a little embarrassed. Feeling her face heat in shame, certain the entire world would see her shocking behavior, she slowly crept backwards until, safely around the corner of the house, she could escape. Silently on bare feet, she stole back to her room, closing the door softly behind her. Flinging herself on her bed, she closed her eyes, as if she’d been asleep all along. As if what she had just witnessed had been only a dream, after all.
But it had been real, and the arousal that so recently flooded her didn’t abate. Instead, it cried out for release. With hands that trembled, Lily pulled her nightshirt to her waist, and then higher. Her nipples, hard buds, throbbed, and Lily’s hands moved over them, caressing, pinching harder. Until that moment, she had no idea her breasts connected to her womb. Her hips surged and her sex burned with hunger. Shocked at her own actions, but unable to stop, her hands wandered down, then under the waistband of her panties.
The first touch of her fingers on her pussy had her clit stiffening and seeking more. Whimpering, Lily pictured Ryan, naked, preening. Imagined him, ready, rising over her. Masturbating for the first time in her life, she gave herself the most delicious orgasm she’d ever experienced.
As she willed sleep to take her, Lily promised herself that, come the dawn, this night’s embarrassing activities would only have been a misadventure, now over. She promised herself in the light of a new day, the yearning and lust she’d felt for that young man would be dead and gone.
But it didn’t die. It merely lay dormant.
A LITTLE R & R
Rafe left his introspection behind as he scanned the people milling about the terminal. Not a one of them looked like his dude. He hoped he found her soon. He wanted to get home and see how Shadow was doing.
He turned his attention back to the angel who had caught his eye earlier just as she turned hers to him.
She smiled, changed course slightly, and approached him.
“Are you from the Lassiter Ranch?”
Rafe swallowed hard, tipped his hat and nodded.
“Oh, good! I’m Rebecca Scott,” the vision said, holding out her hand.
Rafe continued to smile at her for a long moment. It occurred to him that perhaps he ought to say something.
“Miz Scott,” he acknowledged, noting that his voice croaked worse than after a three-day binge.
“Please, call me Rebecca. And you are?”
Acting like an idiot. “Rafe Lassiter. Welcome to Colorado.” He took her hand, but only briefly. He didn’t need that kind of a jolt to his juices.
“Thank you. Am I the only guest you’re picking up today?”
With supreme effort, Rafe sucked back the quip about one honey of a pick-up and instead said, “Yes, you’re the only guest arriving today. Shall we get your luggage?”
The professionalism of his response pleased him. He planned to keep things just that way—professional. His resolve lasted until Rebecca bent over to retrieve her one, albeit very large bag from the luggage carousel.
Only his iron will—and the likelihood of a slap—prevented him from reaching out and caressing the enticing bottom before him.
“Only one bag? Aren’t you staying for the entire summer?”
Amazing how he had forgotten that little fact until now. He swallowed hard. If he had to spend from now until September watching Rebecca’s tempting backside, something was going to give.
“I don’t believe in carting along a whole lot of stuff,” Rebecca said as she turned to face him. “What you bring on vacation you have to look after and I have no intention of spending the next few months doing huge loads of laundry.”
“I am a sensible woman, for the most part.”
Rafe, her luggage in hand, quirked one eyebrow and asked, “For the most part?”
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
He couldn’t help but chuckle. “Yes, ma’am, you sure are.”
* * * *
It would be a three and a half hour drive to the ranch, Rafe informed her as he loaded first her luggage, and then her into his truck.
“Are you hungry?”
“No, I ate on the plane, so I’m good for a bit. I wouldn’t mind a cup of coffee, though. The tiny cups the airlines use are laughable. I’m afraid I’ve developed a bit of an addiction for the brew.”
“In that case you’re in luck. There’s always a fresh pot of coffee on the stove at home. It is one of the most sacred of ranch traditions.”
Rafe piloted the vehicle through a coffee shop drive-through close to the airport, just by the on-ramp to the Interstate. And then they left Denver behind, traveling through some of the most breath-taking scenery Rebecca had ever seen.
Not counting the man beside her, of course.
She was glad the Rockies afforded her the excuse she needed to keep her eyes trained elsewhere than inside the cab of the truck. She needed a little more time to get her equilibrium back.
She felt shaken to her core. In the year since Jacob died, she’d not noticed another man in that special woman-man way. Nor had she all the years they had been married. If anyone had asked her even a few days ago, she would have asserted with utter confidence: that part of her life had ended with her husband’s death. Hadn’t she just assured her own son of the same thing this very morning? Yes, she knew men had a tendency to look her way or occasionally whistle. But neither of those actions had ever touched her.
What a shock it had been to look into Rafe’s obsidian eyes and feel herself beginning to drown, to inhale his scent, fresh soap and pure man, and feel the bottom drop out of her stomach and her world, to brush against him innocently as she got into the truck and feel her nipples tighten in arousal.
Covertly, she stole a peek at him out the corner of her eye. Big, powerful and gorgeous. She hoped she didn’t embarrass herself and drool.
She wondered how old he was.
There’s a sobering thought. His features caught the eye, nearly putting the breath-taking scenery outside her window to shame. But she would bet she was at least ten years older than he.
The heat of embarrassment burned her face. She fixed her attention out the window once more. Good heavens, what had gotten into her? Lusting after a younger man, like one of those Cougars she’d read about! How pathetic!
She’d come to Colorado to break the stagnant pattern of her existence, to experience something new, something different. To learn about a way of life completely unknown to her.
Well, lusting after the first cowboy she met certainly met all the above criteria.
Oh, no! What if she was going through a mid-life crisis and this was just the beginning? What if she began to lust after every cowboy she met? What if she did more than just lust?
“This is your first time, isn’t it?”
Expecting the conflagration of the day before, she got sweet, sweet tenderness. In one moment of clear thought she realized that his mouth wooed hers. Like the tender caress of rose petals, his lips brushed hers, back and forth, as if he would be perfectly content to only do this and nothing more. She sensed in his gentle salute emotions he’d not yet expressed in words.
Rebecca felt as if, atom-by-atom her body dissolved into hot liquid honey. She wanted all of herself to meld with all of him, not just physically, but emotionally and spiritually as well. In one perfect instant of clarity she understood that this was real love: a complete blending, a unity of two into one.
She discovered a power, uniquely feminine, completely hers. As she pressed herself closer to the man she loved, as she ran her hands up and over his shoulders, down his back, she felt him shudder and knew he shuddered with desire for her. Her heart soared. She had never known this power before.
The kiss deepened, nearing the edge of tenderness, the edge of rationality, basking in the heat of a blaze that drew ever closer.
Rafe dragged his lips from hers only to feast them on the silken column of her throat. His hand swept down her body, passed the valley between her breasts, to her stomach, only to sweep back up again to cup one plump mound. He squeezed, gently, at the same time his hips rolled forward.
She whimpered with the wave of need that surged through her.
His hand left her breast only long enough to pull at the little satin bow at the top of her teddy. It came free, that thin piece of satin, loosening the garment’s hold on her.
His lips foraged and found her. He pulled her swollen nipple into his mouth and suckled strongly.
“Rafe!” the plea escaped. Her hands cupped his head, pressing him closer. One feminine leg crept up rough denim, on a primitive quest to wrap itself around masculine hips, to make closer the bond.
With a growl he scooped her up and brought her down onto the bed. “I have to see you, Rebecca,” he whispered.
His hands made quick work of stripping the supple garment from her body. He sat back for a moment, and just stared at her.
Shyness and vulnerability rose up, easily quelled by the look of longing in his eyes.
“Oh, Becca,” his voice trembled. He began to touch her, learning her body. His hands made love to her, with soft gentle brushes and full sweeping caresses.
His mouth captured hers again, and Rebecca swam in a swirling tide of arousal.
Her hands gloried in exploring his flesh. She was nearly overwhelmed with the wonder of him, the feel and the heat and the strength of him. Touching and being touched by Rafe transformed her. The trail he blazed sent tingles and heat through her entire body. She encountered the waistband of his jeans. The barrier was a travesty, and not nearly enough to keep her from him. Undaunted, her nimble fingers followed the edge of the material to the front and dipped in, seeking.
“Ah, Becca, yes,” he groaned. Emboldened by his obvious pleasure, she stroked and caressed, shy at first in her movements. The pressing of his hips told her he needed more. Bolder now, her hand encircled him, her grasp gently firm as she learned the length and the strength of him. Growling in a sound she recognized as frustration, he left her only a moment, only long enough to become as naked as she.
He felt hot and hard against her, and oh, how wonderful to hold him close, no barriers between them! Her hands eagerly touched every inch of him. She enjoyed the tension in his buttocks as her hands swept and squeezed. Unable to resist, she moved one hand around to the front of him, eager to stroke him again.
“You’re so hot,” she whispered in wonder, and he groaned, flexing against her hand.
“Yeah, I’m hot. For you. For all of you.”
He removed himself gently from her reach, distracting her with his mouth. He kissed and licked his way from her lips, to the bottom of her chin, down her neck. He tasted every bit of her until once more the fiery cavern of his mouth suckled first one nipple, and then the other. When she cried out and arched toward him, his hand slowly slid lower, until his fingers brushed the hair at the apex of her thighs.
“Rafe…please…I need…” Her words emerged panted, frantic, as she tried to cope with the swirling sensations within her.
“I know what you need, sweetheart.” He took the other turgid nipple into his mouth and began to suck hard, rhythmically. In perfect timing with each pull, his fingers stroked, then sought, and then delved. He slowly penetrated her with one finger as his thumb brushed the tiny nub, the epicenter of her desire. She moaned, her hips lifting for more of his touch as her passion climbed higher.
“I want to taste you, Becca. I’m going to make you fly.”
She had no idea what he meant. Then his hand left her intimate flesh, replaced by his mouth.