Bedded then Wed

She moaned in pleasure, sending shockwaves rippling through his bloodstream. Her head fell back, exposing the long, smooth column of her throat, and he couldn’t resist kissing her there, licking the pulse point and nibbling at the taut line of muscle.

He used his free hand to unhook the latch of her bra and skim the loosened straps down her arms.

In the back of his mind, he hoped she would protest. If she asked him to stop, suffered a sudden bout of embarrassment, he was gentleman enough not to pressure her to go farther than she felt comfortable. But on his own…

On his own, he wasn’t sure he was man enough to let her go.

He had full access now to her bare chest and took a moment to admire the pale splendor of her small, pert breasts with their tiny cherry nipples. They reminded him of ice cream sundaes, sweet and delectable and good enough to eat.

Shifting around on the bales of straw, he supported her back with one arm while leaning in for a taste. He kissed the side of her breast, then opened his mouth to sample the silken skin.

She raked her hands through his hair, grazing the scalp and anchoring her fingers near his nape. His tongue drew circles around her tightened areola, the movements growing smaller and smaller until he engulfed the entire tip.

She straddled his thighs like a champion rider, tilting her hips, straining for a more intimate touch. And he wanted to give it to her, was desperate for it himself. Sweating, shaking, more aroused than he could ever remember being before in his life.

Releasing her breast, dragging in great gulps of air, he returned his mouth to her lips. At the same time, he tried to get his trembling fingers to work on the snap and zipper of her jeans.

With the denim loose around her waist, he slipped his hands inside, palms flat against her skin as he slid them down, beneath the elastic edge of her panties. He skimmed her hips, then moved around to cup her buttocks.

When she moaned and ground herself into the hard bulge behind the zipper of his own jeans, he knew he couldn’t wait much longer to be inside her. Not without embarrassing himself and depriving them both of something he was beginning to suspect would be earth-shattering.

Laying her back along the bed of straw bales, he sat up only long enough to yank off her shoes and drag her pants down her legs. Then he was with her again, tearing off his shirt, unbuckling his belt and opening his fly before covering her with his body.

He lifted her legs around his waist, gently probing her warm, moist folds. Brushing thin strands of strawberry-blond hair away from her face, he met her eyes and offered her an encouraging smile. She returned his grin and lifted her hands to his shoulders, applying just enough pressure to tug him down for a kiss. While his tongue plumbed the depths of her mouth, he cocked his hips and entered her in one long, strong stroke.

The instant friction and intense sensation made them both gasp. Mitch held himself perfectly still, feeling her tight inner muscles flexing around him, all but blowing off the top of his head. He knew if he moved, if she shifted even a millimeter, things between them would be over much too soon.

So he gritted his teeth, concentrating on his breathing until the blaze in his gut sputtered to a low forest fire and he thought he could open his eyes, gaze down at Emma’s angelic features without exploding. She was staring up at him with liquid blue eyes, the same stunned expression on her face that he suspected mirrored his own.

Taking a deep breath, he let the air shudder out of his lungs, and then brushed his lips across her mouth.

Her breasts brushed his chest, her arms and legs locked around him like tentacles. With a minor shift, just a small forward movement, he was inside her, buried to the hilt.

He groaned, the sound rumbling up from his diaphragm even as she flexed around him and he began to move. Short, slow strokes growing slightly longer and faster as the tension built. Blood pumped through his veins, hot and flowing like molten lava to pool between his legs.

Emma threw her head back and he kissed her throat, nibbled her ear, trailed his lips down to her breasts. His belly clenched at the noises she was making. Low, erotic mewling sounds that drove him senseless and made him thrust harder, faster, striving for completion.

Sweat dripped past his temples and down the middle of his back. Her fingers tangled in his hair, caressing and keeping him close as her hips rose and fell to meet him.

“Emma,” he growled out.

She met his gaze and smiled even as her mouth opened on a rush of ecstasy. “Mitch,” she breathed in return.

And that was all it took to send him over the edge. White-hot pleasure pounded through his pores, filling every cell of his being to near bursting.

With a deep groan, he drove into her one last time, relieved to feel her pulse and shake, following him over the cliff into mindless pleasure.

Emma couldn’t keep her lips from curling up in a grin as she ran her hands over Mitch’s silky-soft hair and sweat-slickened back, his strong, muscular bicep and broad chest.

His face rested in the hollow of her neck, his body still covering hers after the most intense session of lovemaking she’d ever experienced.

She still couldn’t believe it had happened. Her body hummed with recently released passion, the lingering effects causing her muscles to twitch and a delightful warmth to spread all over.

And she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that with anyone but Mitch Ramsey, the sex might have been good, but it wouldn’t have been phenomenal.

So many times, private wishes and forbidden fantasies lost their luster in the bright light of day. She’d dreamed of being with Mitch for so long that when he’d begun to kiss her, a part of her had been worried she’d be disappointed.

Or perhaps she’d been worried that she would disappoint him.

Instead, being with him had been everything she’d hoped for and more. So much more.

He’d been gentle and caring and…amazing. Not only in the way he touched her—although the memory of that alone was enough to curl her toes and cause a renewed warmth to pool deep in her belly.

No, he’d been kind and considerate all evening. Offering her a ride home, helping her tend to the livestock, climbing into the loft with her to check on the kittens.

It was a side of him she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Since Suzanne had ripped his heart out and stomped it into the ground, leaving him an empty husk of his former self.

Mitch thought he’d handled his ex-wife’s infidelity and the subsequent divorce well. He thought he’d been impervious to the pain that woman had caused him and had recovered quickly to return to his normal life.

But everyone around him knew it was a lie. He pretended to be okay while his insides remained shriveled and cold.

Emma often thought that if she ever ran into Suzanne again, she would slap the cheating bitch for what she’d done to Mitch.

But then, Emma had never liked the woman. From the moment Mitch had brought her home to Gabriel’s Crossing, having met her at a truck stop in Abilene, Emma had known that every dream she’d ever had of spending her life with Mitch was destroyed.

Suzanne was tall and blond and built like a 1920s pinup girl, while Emma had always had a more boyish figure. Small breasts, narrow hips, no feminine curves to speak of. She was a bit of a tomboy, and had always been proud of the fact, until Suzanne Yates had waltzed into town and reminded her of all the things she wasn’t, stealing Mitch in the process.

It had been a silly dream to start with, thinking that just because she and Mitch had grown up together he might fall in love with her. She’d grown up with Chase, too, but had never had an erotic or ever-after thought about him.

And until tonight, she’d truly thought she was over Mitch Ramsey. Or, if not over him, at least had come to terms with the fact that he was never going to completely heal from Suzanne’s betrayal. He was off the market and more out of her reach than ever before.

Now, though, she wasn’t sure what to think. Her heart wanted to believe this was the start of something permanent. That by driving her home tonight and making love to her in the barn loft, he was showing that he was recovered from his lousy marriage and willing to love again.

But her rational, more somber brain warned her to be careful. Reminded her that one night of passion did not a marriage proposal make.

She would keep that in mind, play it safe and follow his lead, whatever it may be.

“Mmm.” He moaned low in his throat like a man waking from a good night’s sleep and pushed himself up on one elbow.

Cool night air washed over her skin where his body no longer covered, and she fought not to shiver. Not because she was cold, but because she missed the intimate contact.

“You okay?” he asked, still leaning over her, staring down at her with those slate-gray eyes.

She nodded, biting the inside of her lip to keep from saying more.

He shifted again, rolling farther away on the bales of straw. She felt bereft without his touch, but curled her fingers into fists at her sides and took deep breaths until she got the urge to reach for him under control.

“We should think about getting dressed before your father gets home and catches us out here.” He shot her a wicked grin. “I’ve made it almost forty years without getting chased off by an angry, pitch fork-wielding father. There’s no sense in starting now.”