The Rancher Takes A Bride (24 page)

His lips covered hers in a kiss that promised much more to come. A kiss that tantalized her senses with promises of today and dreams of tomorrow. A kiss she knew would change her forever.

She opened her mouth greedily, accepting his unspoken acknowledgement of passion, wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body into his, sending her own message of sensation.

She felt him lift her in his arms and knew she wanted this moment with this man. Knew that this was her destiny.

Travis lifted Rose up in his arms and carried her from the pond. He couldn't resist her any longer. He'd tried—Lord, had he tried—but now, here, he had to have her.

She wound her arms around his neck, her hands caressing the sensitive skin below his ears, keeping his pulse pounding. Her head lay cradled against his chest as she gazed up at him from beneath her lashes, her emerald eyes dark with passion. Slowly she ran her tongue across the naked skin along his neck, and he thought his knees would buckle.

"Wait," he cried, stepping onto the slippery bank, eager to see her naked flesh.

Carefully, he set her feet on the ground, letting her body slide against his until she was standing. He leaned over and put his lips against her exposed ear- lobe. Nibbling softly, his lips moved down her neck to the tempting curve of her shoulder. She moaned, a soft, delicate sound, and he tugged at her dress. His hands went around to the back of the skirt and quickly he unhooked the waist, letting the garment sag to the ground.

She stood before him, her chemise clinging to her skin like a lover. The front dipped low to expose the swells of her full breasts; her nipples beckoned him through the wet garment and he longed to touch them, put his lips around each sweet kernel.

She reached out a tentative hand and ran it down the front of his chest, down to his pants, her eyes trailing her finger. At the waistband she hesitated, glancing up at him shyly. The urge to throw her down on the ground and plunge himself into her almost overwhelmed him, but he resisted.

The woman had an innocent seductive air about her. He gazed into her lush green eyes and whispered, "If you don't touch me soon, I'm going to burst."

Her hands were shaking as she slowly undid the wooden buttons of his pants; his manhood strained against the snugness of his clothes. She tugged on his pants, and they fell to the ground in a puddle around his feet. He stepped from them and kicked the burdensome garment out of the way. It took about three seconds for him to shed the shirt that clung to his back.

He stood before her, naked and needy, needing her to finally fulfill his fantasies, which had haunted him day and night.

He reached out and touched her breast through the wet chemise, rubbed her nipples, caressed her breasts, and longed to feel them filling his hand.

Raising her hand to his lips, he kissed the center of her palm. His other hand wrapped around her waist, pulling her closer, pressing her against him, her feet between his legs.

With both hands he reached up and peeled her wet chemise down, exposing first her shoulders, then the tops of her creamy breasts, and finally her nipples.

Travis sighed and put his lips to the puckered tip, tenderly sucking on the tiny bud. She gasped and arched her back, trying to give him easier access to her breasts. He held her against him, needing her so badly, unable to relinquish the feel of her pressed against his naked flesh.

This was his cure, his salve, to the emptiness of his soul. One time with Rose would heal him of his need for the seductive wench. One time would last him a lifetime.

He continued lavishing attention on her breasts, while his hand slid the chemise completely down past her hips, leaving her naked except for her drawers. He tossed the wet garment to the side and let his hands explore her like a blind man's. Touch her, caress her, run his fingers down her satiny skin, all the way to her waist.

She was silky smooth, velvety, and he wanted to see more. With a gentle tug, he pushed at her pantaloons. She stepped out of his embrace, her eyes wide with desire. Gazing at him, she took both hands and peeled off her pantaloons, slowly revealing, inch by inch, her naked body until she stood before him completely nude.

Timidly, she glanced at him, her green eyes wide with an innocent stare that almost steamed the dampness of the pond from him.

He lowered his gaze, staring at her with disbelief. Full breasts, shapely hips, and satiny skin that he longed to taste. He longed to run his lips along the inside of her thigh, taste her until she begged him not to stop.

Unable to relinquish his hold of Rose, he held her hand, then reached down and picked up the dress she had worn and spread it out on the ground. He sank to the dress and pulled her down beside him on the makeshift bed. Gently, he pushed her back on the ground until they lay side by side, touching, skin against skin, his lips devouring hers with an urgency he'd never felt before.

Somehow this woman filled his empty spaces; somehow only she could relax his guard and slip behind the barriers he'd erected.

Side by side, they lay touching. Slowly, as if she were afraid, she reached out and touched him. Put her hand on his shaft. He gasped, the sound strange and guttural to his own ears.

She clasped her hand around him tentatively, as if she were afraid he would break. Gently she fondled him, watching him, her emerald eyes wide with wonder. Her hand wrapped around him, caressed him until he knew he couldn't hold back much longer.

His heart pounded in rhythm with his breathing, and he knew that if he didn't stop her, it would all be over in a matter of seconds. And he wanted much more, so very much more.

His fingers trailed down her breasts, past her waist, until he felt the springy curls beneath his fingers. She jerked when he touched her.

Then suddenly she grasped his free hand, squeezing as his right hand found her center. He stroked until she was moaning and wet for him. Stroked until Rose was wild with need beneath him. Stroked until he knew he had to be inside her, had to feel her surrounding him, hear her moaning his name.

She pulled back, her eyes large and dilated as she whispered, "Please do something."

This woman who had from the beginning teased his senses mercilessly, goaded him, vexed him at every turn, writhed beneath him, surprising him once again with the intensity of their lovemaking.

He covered her lips with his, raking the inside of her mouth with his tongue, teasing and dancing, retreating and withdrawing. He moved his body over hers until his manhood lay between the vortex of her thighs.

She was so wet for him. He couldn't wait another minute to be inside her. He had dreamed of this, wanted this moment, and couldn't believe it was going to happen.

He surged ahead, powerful and tender—and met a wall of resistance.

For a moment he was stunned. He broke off the kiss and glanced down at Rose, then forged ahead again and met the same wall of resistance.

No! She wasn't a virgin. She couldn't be a virgin? Not a woman like Rose!

He trembled, his need overpowering him. Pushing forward, he broke the resistance, feeling the barrier give way, and realized Rose had indeed been a virgin.

She gave a sharp cry, and he rolled her to her side, trying to ease his weight off her. He waited, partly knowing that he needed to give her a moment to recover, partly in shock.

Rose had been a virgin!

She shifted beside him, drawing his attention to her face. Her emerald eyes were dilated with passion, her breathing heavy. Shyly she brought her lips to his, and with a tender fierceness, his desire overcame him.

Rolling her to her back, he drove himself into Rose with an intensity he'd held in reserve. His lips covered hers in a kiss that sizzled with the fervor of his pleasure.

She writhed beneath him, receiving his thrusts, feeling so good as he tried to control his passion.

He wanted to devour her. Absorb her into his skin until they became one. He could feel his climax building and knew that this time there would be no stopping. This time there would be no holding back.

Rose lifted her lips from his and gazed up at him, her eyes glassy, her breathing shallow and fast. "Travis."

A shudder ran through her, and she tightened her hold on him, her eyes closing, her head thrown back. "Oh, Travis!

He closed his eyes, unable to watch any longer as his own release ripped through him, shattering him as he climaxed. He shuddered, clinging to Rose as his world lurched.

Spent, he sagged on top of her, before shifting and rolling them to their sides, facing one another. Closing his eyes, he lay back, dazed.

For several minutes he lay there stunned. Depleted, his mind and body slowly readjusted. He'd just had the best sex of his entire life, and it had been with a virgin.

Rose had been a virgin.

Over and over the phrase repeated in his head, echoing like the inside of an empty canyon.

He laid his head back on the ground, unable to open his eyes and look at her. He'd thought the worst about her. He'd thought she was easy with her favors, little better than a whore.

Maybe he was the biggest fool of all.

But what was the truth? If Rose had not been a woman wise in the ways of seducing a man, then who was this woman who stirred him, aroused him, and made his life generally hell? Who was Rose and what was he supposed to do now?

How did one treat a virgin after her first time? And why, even now, did the feel of her satiny-smooth skin against him make him harden once more?

Slowly, he opened one eye and stared at the woman he thought he knew. She reached up and caressed his face with the back of her hand. Her green eyes sparkled with mischief.

"I'm so glad that my very first time was outside beneath the trees and sky."

Travis cringed. What did he do now? What if she became pregnant?

"I hope no one comes by to water their horse. They might get a shock," she said with a laugh.

"The men are gone," he replied quietly.

She rolled her naked body up against him and giggled. Trailing her fingers down the length of his stomach, she tickled him playfully. "Oh, Travis, let's stay here all day."

He glanced at her. Her face was rosy pink, her eyes sparkling, her hair was a tousled mess, and she'd never looked more beautiful. The urge to take up where he'd left off was tempting, but it was already mid-morning, the sun was climbing in the sky and . . .

It was an excuse. God, what did he do now?

He jumped up, shoving Rose aside, unable to continue lying there beside her another moment without touching her once again. Without losing himself in her body a second time. It was then he spotted her virgin's blood staining the dress that his mother had given her.

There was absolutely no doubt. Until thirty minutes ago, Rose Severin had been a virgin. And he had taken her innocence.

He grabbed his pants and started to pull them up over his hips. "I've got to go!"

Glancing back at Rose, he saw that she'd sat up naked, looking at him a quizzical expression on her beautiful face.

"But . . . wait," she said, stunned.

He swallowed, picked up his shirt, and slammed his hat on his head. "I'll see you tonight."

***

Travis spurred his horse out of sight of the house. He had done everything but jump up and run as fast as he could to get away from Rose. Not that he was a coward, but he needed some time and some space away from the gorgeous woman who had just put his world into a spin.

Rose had suddenly turned into a chatterbox, rattling on about nothing, acting as though nothing had changed. Yet he knew differently. Everything had changed.

Reeling from his recent discovery, and feeling the need to escape, he'd all but run. In a matter of moments, he'd ridden away, leaving a bewildered Rose behind.

All this time he'd thought she was a loose, immoral woman, only to find out he was her first lover.

Travis had taken her virginity and now, like a bastard, he'd almost run from the scene, leaving her naked by the pond. But he had to get away. Get away from the reality of the situation.

He didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to act, and all he could think about was the fact that he'd taken her innocence. No wonder the woman had always had a naiveté about her. No wonder she'd often gazed at him with lack of understanding in her eyes. She'd been untouched. Until him.

Yet it didn't make sense. How could a woman like Rose remain an innocent? She was a thief. After all, he'd found her holding séances in a little house on Main Street.

She had been conning people into believing she could talk with their dead relatives. He'd had her thrown in jail, chased her to Waco and retrieved her from a roadhouse, tied her up, and brought her back to his ranch. He couldn't be that wrong. Could he?

He cringed. How could things get so tangled? For weeks he'd been lusting after the little Jezebel, only to find out maybe, just maybe, she wasn't who he thought she was.