Rodeo Christmas at Evergreen Ranch (Gold Valley #13)(107)

He kissed his way down to her stomach, below her belly button. Then down between her thighs. She gripped his head, arching against him as he tasted her deep. He growled as he tasted her, and she lifted her hips up against him, writhing in time with the stroke of his tongue. She looked down and watched him, and he looked up, his eyes meeting hers. And she gasped, her orgasm breaking over her like a sudden wave that came from nowhere. Sweeping her out to sea, leaving her storm tossed and breathless.

And then again. And again. And it was like a gift for every moment in her life that had gone uncelebrated. For every little bit of pleasure that had been denied her by the stoic nature of her childhood. For every bit of fear that she’d been taught to feel whenever she wanted something.

This was the gift. His mouth. That wicked mouth, that outlawed touch.

He made her want to be bad, but perhaps even better, he made this not feel bad. He made it feel wonderful. He made her feel free.

And then he kissed his way back up her body, his mouth fastened to hers, as he positioned himself between her thighs, the blunt head of his arousal testing her there.

“Please,” she whispered.

He growled and thrust deep inside of her.

She clung to his shoulders, hoping to find something to anchor her to the earth. To help her breathe past the pain.

“It’s okay,” he whispered. And she believed him.

Then he began to move, and the pain started to fade. Pleasure building upon it, pleasure making her dizzy.

There was something more. Something that went beyond physical pleasure. She wasn’t alone. She was with him. He was in her. And it was something deeper and more profound than she could have ever imagined. He understood her. He knew what she wanted. He understood her body’s needs. She had never felt like she fit with anyone or anything in all of her life. Not her own family, not the people she had gone to school with. Not even the people here at Four Corners, however lovely they were. But he fit. He fit. And it didn’t matter that it made no sense, it simply was.

He was hers. Her everything.

Her outlaw.

And when his body began to shiver and shake with his own release, she held on to him tight, and when he fractured, she let go. And they were united in that moment. Where all was lost and found in equal measure. And then she rested her head on his chest and clung to his sweat-slicked body.

She put her hand right above the stitches, examining that spot. “I’m glad I didn’t hurt you.”

He chuckled. “It would be worth it. I’d stitch myself back up three times if it meant having you.”

“I don’t think anyone’s ever wanted me enough to go to that kind of trouble.”

He pushed her hair off of her face. “I could say the same.”

“Sleep here,” she said. “Don’t go back to the couch.”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It’s what I want.”





CHAPTER EIGHT


OVER THE NEXT couple of weeks they settled into a pattern. He worked around the house during the day, he made sure to cook for her every night and then they went to bed together, after making love at least twice. And sometimes he would wake her up after she had fallen asleep and have her again.

He was happy with it, but he knew it couldn’t last. There was just no way. Keeping her close like this while there was still danger out there...

That just didn’t work.

Taking advantage of her hospitality didn’t sit well with him either.

Even though he knew...

He knew things about her. Not just things about her past, though they shared plenty of stories about their messed-up childhoods. And who would’ve thought that one designed to repress you would have so many commonalities with one designed to make you a career criminal? He certainly wouldn’t have. But it turned out they had more in common than they had different.

He knew how she liked her tea. That she drank black tea up until five, and then switched to chamomile. And she liked coffee in the morning. She really liked hot drinks.

She loved winter, and she had never really had a nice Christmas before. Because her mother hadn’t believed in celebrating it, and after that she’d been on her own.

She had taken college so seriously she had never stopped to enjoy anything extra.

He knew that she got a little crease between her brows when she was grading papers. And she looked genuinely worried when she read things that she considered a sad indictment of the state of today’s youth.

She was old-fashioned. She loved those frilly nightgowns, and he loved taking them off of her.

For all that she was old-fashioned, she wasn’t shy. And she wasn’t a prude. Not with him. She seemed to love everything they did and want more.

And he wanted to do something. Wanted to give her something. Well hell, he wasn’t poorly, not anymore. There wasn’t any reason he couldn’t go out and do some things for her. She had gone and gotten him clothes at a certain point. So now he had some respectable things to wear. Even if they were just a little bit nineties. The denim jacket that she had picked out for him made him think of something his dad might’ve worn.

He put his black cowboy hat on and walked around the woods until he found it. The cabin. He went inside and lifted the floorboards and found his black bag full of his rodeo prize winnings. He had known he could never have the bulk of his life stored in a bank. Not when everything could fall apart.