Dance With the Rancher by Lauri Robinson

Author:Lauri Robinson [Robinson, Lauri]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Historical Romance, Nineteenth Century, American West
ISBN: 9781472008985
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2013-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Five

Garret arrived at his horse but paused before putting a foot in the stirrup. He shouldn’t have kissed her. Then the urge to do so again wouldn’t be gnawing at him like a dog on a bone. Desire this great would keep him up all night.

Spinning, he marched back to the house, took the steps in a single bound and threw open the door. She stood near the table facing him, and he grinned at the surprise in her eyes.

Without saying a word, Garret moved forward. So did she, meeting him midway. He grasped her cheeks and tilted her head to line up their lips as another spasm of longing flared so hot in his loins he moaned. This time he held nothing back, coaxed her lips apart and tasted her thoroughly. Her tongue met his swirl for swirl, stroke for stroke.

“What the hell was in that punch?” he asked, coming up for a breath of air.

“What?” she asked, breasts heaving.

He slid his hands down to run his thumbs over the peaks, rubbing the hard nubs beneath the material. “It had to have been spiked,” he declared. Something had to be making him this barmy.

He took her mouth in another frenzy of tasting, kissing. Control had never challenged him as it did now, and he picked her up, planted her bottom on the table. There he kissed her, over and over, while his hands explored her sides, her breasts. She hooked her heels behind his knees, and it was almost more than he could take. Overcome with need, he undid the buttons of her dress, untied her camisole and pushed the material aside. The lamplight bounced off her milky-white breasts, the darker skin of her nipples, and Garret groaned as his desire peaked.

He tasted one breast and then the other, suckling until his crotch throbbed painfully. He was about to lift her, carry her into the tiny bedroom beyond the kitchen, when some unfathomable ounce of common sense broke through. This was Rory Boyle. The preacher’s daughter.

His blood turned cold. He had no idea what to say, how to express everything going on inside him. He was a God-fearing man, but he wasn’t a churchgoing one, and he’d be the first to admit he’d done plenty of carousing out east—even before he knew Emily had married Harms.

He had broken almost all of the commandments—not the ones that were illegal, but that distinction wouldn’t matter to her. She was a preacher’s daughter.

Rory held her breath, waiting for Garret to say something.

Silent, he spun around, walked out the door and moments later rode away as if the devil was nipping at his heels.

Covering her face with both hands, Rory squeezed her eyes shut. If he hadn’t stopped... She drew a burning breath of air. Which didn’t help. The fire inside her, that which Garret had set to flame, might never go out. Her gaze settled on her bedroom door. She wouldn’t have stopped him from joining her in there. Maybe it didn’t matter if Jim told the entire town about her past.

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