Wind River Wrangler (Wind River Valley #1)(67)
Hot, liquefying sensations throbbed throughout her. Perspiration was running freely off her body. She could smell their sex, the scent like a perfume to her flaring nostrils as she slowly moved her fingers languidly against Roan’s now relaxed shoulders. He lay heavily against her, his head next to hers, stroking her hair, holding her, words useless. Closing her eyes, Shiloh absorbed each of his ministrations, feeling herself sink a little more deeply into the flooding happiness swirling throughout her. Roan made her feel good about herself. Made her feel good to be his partner. There was sharing and a caring. And tenderness as he lifted his head, met her drowsy eyes, smiled into them, satisfaction burning deep in his gray ones.
This time, Roan eased out of her. He moved onto his side, bringing Shiloh against his long, hard body, holding her close, kissing her temple, her cheek, and finally, caressing her lips with such adoration that it brought tears to her eyes. Was this what it was like for her mother and father? That their love was so deep, so all-consuming, that they fearlessly loved each other with all their heart? And this was how it felt? Nothing in her life had ever matched being in Roan’s arms right now.
It must be, Shiloh thought, returning Roan’s kiss, relishing his mouth upon hers. There were no more barriers. Just fused, joyous oneness. She could feel his heart beating in time with hers. Their breath mingled, moist and uneven. They were sweaty, weak, and satisfied. Roan tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder and laid his head on the pillow, his fingers tangling gently through her silken hair. His other arm went around her shoulders, supporting the small of her back, holding her fully against him. Fused. One.
Chapter Sixteen
Nothing had ever felt so right to Shiloh as these moments. There was such a sense of fierce protection surrounding her as Roan held her in his arms. The moonlight streamers grew bolder, the room became a softer gray. Sliding her fingers across Roan’s chest, she felt his arms tighten briefly around her, responding to her caress. His jaw rested against the top of her head. Beneath her palm, she could feel the slow beat of his magnificent heart. Sensing the power that was a part of him, even when at rest, told Shiloh he was a warrior in repose, not really, fully relaxed. Maybe because of his many years as a Special Forces operator? There was so little she knew about him. And Shiloh wanted to know everything.
Sighing softly, she closed her eyes, content to be cradled in Roan’s arms, his strength like a warm cocoon surrounding her. She could feel he was awake, not asleep. What was he thinking? Just feeling his lean, hard body against hers, she smiled, absorbing the potency of Roan into herself. Once again, Shiloh wondered if this was how her mother felt about her father. There was such a fierce need to connect with Roan at heart level. She felt Roan lift his hand, threading his fingers through her tousled hair. Her scalp tingled with delight, the skittering sensations making Shiloh almost purr, the sound vibrating in her throat.
“You are so easy to please,” he growled.
Smiling, Shiloh remained in his arms. “Maybe you just know how to please me.”
“We’re good together.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “But I knew we would be.”
“What else do you know about us?” Shiloh tipped her head back against his muscular, ropy upper arm, catching his darkened gaze, the moonlight making his gray eyes look softened in the refracted light. Roan looked satisfied. Thoughtful. Happy. She saw that beautiful male mouth of his curve slightly, his fingers stilling in her hair, caressing the back of her head.
“It’s a sensing, not a knowing.”
“Okay, what do you sense?” She saw his smile grow more. The man was such a Chinese puzzle! He never gave anything up willingly. And if she didn’t ask just the right question, it wasn’t answered. Was that his black ops training? Or just him? Shiloh didn’t know, but determined in time to find out.
“I see a beautiful, wild filly that is happiest when she has the run of the range. She’s free. . . .”
“You’re calling me a horse?” Shiloh grinned up at him.
“That was a compliment, Darlin’.”
Shiloh considered. “I guess you might see women as horses. You grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana.”
“I don’t see all women as horses.”
Lifting her brows, she asked archly, “What does THAT mean?” She heard Roan chuckle. She got the sense he felt like he was dealing with a recalcitrant child who was asking too many questions. Too bad.
Roan leaned down, taking her mouth, moving his lips across hers, sending a longing through Shiloh once more. The man knew how to kiss! Gradually, he left her lips, their noses almost touching.
“Is this what I’m in for? Twenty questions?”
Seeing the teasing, the amusement in his expression, Shiloh said pointedly, “You know I’m a writer. Writers are curious people. How could you think I wasn’t going to ask you questions, Roan Taggart?” She warmed as she saw laughter gleam in his eyes.
“Which is why I see you as a frisky, risk-taking two-year-old filly. You’re full of yourself. You’re exuberant. You’re fearless. You just move from your heart on a whim and follow whatever interests you.”
Shiloh considered his larger explanation. “Why couldn’t you have said all that in one paragraph earlier, Roan? See? I’m having to drag everything out of you again.”
“You didn’t have to drag me kicking and screaming into your arms.”