The Texas Rancher's Vow. Cathy Gillen Thacker

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      Chapter Seven

      Jen meant to resist, she really did. But she was his for the taking the moment Matt tilted her head and covered her lips with his.

      It didn’t matter that she shouldn’t be here, in his bedroom. Inhaling his scent. Feeling his heat. It didn’t matter that she was a sensible woman whose heart was locked up, out of reach. He made a sound of pleasure that went straight through her, and their kiss deepened into an intense, satisfying tangle of lips and tongues. And Jen felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years. She felt on the edge of a kind of contentment she’d never had. And she knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The kind that likely would not come again.

      Matt thrust a thigh between hers. His hand slid down to the small of her back, riveting her in place, and turning the kiss into a full-body experience of raw, sexual power. And darned if she didn’t want to give as good as she was getting.

      She let Matt dance her backward toward the bathroom in his suite, kissing her all the while. And once there, she used the heel of her boot to shut the door with a thud.

      Matt laughed and drew back to look at her.

      “We’re really going to do this.”

      “We’re really going to do this,” she whispered, already toeing off her boots.

      He pulled his shirt over his head, his smile slow and sure, and so hot it singed every nerve ending in her body.

      Her jeans went next.

      Then his.

      The mutual striptease gave her a thrill that turned her blood to liquid fire. Lower still, a quiver racked her.

      He helped her remove her tank top, then her bra and panties. Her nipples tightened. “Beautiful,” he murmured, touching and caressing her, then looking at her with a heavy-lidded gaze that had her wanting to fall into bed with him and never emerge.

      She quivered once more, and then was kissing him again. And when kissing wasn’t enough, she worked her fingers beneath the elastic of his sexy black briefs and helped dispense with them. Her eyes followed her hands. Lord, he was big and hard, Jen thought. Every inch of him was buff and hard and male. His eyes were burning with desire.

      Lust consumed her, too.

      He kissed her throat, her shoulder, moving lower to her breast. She had never felt as beautiful, as wanted as she did at that moment.

      A liquid warmth filled her as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue. Writhing against him, she sifted her fingers through his hair, kissed the top of his head. Gasping, she arched her back, surrendering to him.

      When he rose again, smiling, the kiss turned maddeningly slow and sensual. She let her fingers play, too, until he groaned, turned the dial and guided her inside the glass-walled shower. Then he drew them both beneath the generous spray, cupped her head in his hand and kissed her again, the delicious heat of him countering the slowly warming water sluicing over them. Again and again he kissed her, until she gave herself over to his demand, and their bodies were plastered together.

      When she could stand it no longer, he caressed her tenderly and groaned. “You’ve got me so off task.”

      It felt very on task to her.

      He leaned over and kissed her again. “I intended to get cleaned up for you first.”

      His eyes met hers. Another thrill slid through her. Another whisper of arousal…

      Matt reached for the soap, grabbed a washcloth from the hook. Aware this was her every fantasy come true, she watched as he rubbed the bar into a nice thick lather, then set it back on the shelf and began running the cloth over his body with the same steady expertise he did everything else.

      Shoulders. Chest. Thighs…

      Feeling left out of what looked like an awful lot of fun, Jen caught his hand, extricated the cloth. “Allow me.”

      He chuckled, his eyes darkening. Acquiescing, he leaned against the shower wall.

      “I’m an artist,” she whispered, grabbing the sprayer, too. “I learn best through touch.” And what she wanted to learn most, Jen discovered breathlessly, was him.

      Every dip and nook and cranny, every hard plane and rigid muscle, was washed and rinsed, touched and loved.

      Turning her on.

      Turning him on.

      Suddenly the soapy cloth dropped and the kissing commenced. The next thing Jen knew, he’d grasped СКАЧАТЬ