Resisting the Rancher (Redwood Falls 3)

He seemed to take his time, leaning negligently against the closed door while he hooked one booted foot over the other and crossed his arms over his chest. She realized in that moment what made him so very attractive to her. He was tall and roughly good-looking, but it was his mannerisms that did it for her. He had the unhurried saunt

er of a cowboy, the cocksure movements of a man who knew he ruled his world; he knew he was attractive, and richer than sin to boot. He had a blunt, angular face that only seemed to see a razor every couple of days, leaving a wickedly delicious show of stubble most of the time. His arrogance was emphasized by dark, slanted eyebrows above eyes so dark she could easily drown in them.

How could she find him so attractive? Attractive was an understatement—she felt a steady, continual beat of awareness that seemed to center directly between her thighs. And the most shameful thing, she had to admit, was the fact that his rampaging masculinity, his balls to the wall alpha-maleness, instead of putting her off, was much like a force field pulling her in. There was a tiny secret part of her that was thrilled to death knowing that he was responding to her much like a junkyard dog about to tear into something it wanted to ravage.

But those were not only inappropriate thoughts, they were damn near shameful thoughts. It had only been six days. She’d only known him for six days. If he was already pacing around her as if protecting his territory, what would her life be like after he’d accomplished his goal?

An abrupt, terrifying thought chilled her to the bone. She already had a six-month old baby she was solely responsible for and she couldn’t risk another child. She hadn’t been on birth control since she and her college boyfriend had broken up—so she needed to remedy that, and soon. The expression on the rancher’s face told her, flat out, that she’d be in his bed within days, if not hours.

And she wasn’t going to have the will to deny him.

No way. Already, her heart was beating faster just wondering if he was going to kiss her, or if he’d only brought her into this room to interrogate her. Please, please, please, just one kiss. One kiss to know if staying here would be a magical experience—or an extended visit in temporary hell.

She’d never had the kind of sex that she somehow knew was staring her in the face. Both her high school boyfriend and her college boyfriend had been gentle. Until this week, she’d always taken gentleness for granted—and had thought it was normal and what she wanted in a lover as well.

But there was nothing gentle about the way Jeffrey McIntyre was watching her now. His face was cut into lines of aggravation, his jaw clenched so tightly it emphasized a prominent tic in his cheek. Her eyes dropped down the length of him and settled on the bulge in his jeans for a mere second before flying back up to stare at a more innocuous place on his chest. But dammit to hell, there wasn’t an innocuous place on his entire body.

She sucked in a breath and tried to settle her out-of-control pulse rate. She might find him devastatingly hot, but seriously, six days? He didn’t own her and she damn sure wouldn’t allow him to get away with this crap.

She swallowed down her lust, stiffened her spine and waited.

****

Jeff watched the girl in front of him, realizing several things in that instant. Although she probably hadn’t technically lied to him about where she’d been, she certainly hadn’t been one hundred percent truthful, and that made it damn little more than a lie in his book. And the fact that she was hiding something from him was fueling a surge of testosterone in his bloodstream that was manifesting itself in aggression—sexual aggression—he could feel it.

He was already fighting his arousal to such a degree that it astounded him. What was it about this little chick that made him want to invade her personal space, grab her around the waist and throw her over his shoulder before taking her to his room and locking her inside? Really, what the hell was it about her?

Whatever it was, his swollen and engorged hard-on was not going to control his actions. Yeah, he’d have her in bed soon, but for now, he wanted to know exactly where the fuck she’d been that day.

Why he felt the need to know her exact whereabouts, he refused to analyze. He just wanted to know and by damned, she was going to tell him the complete truth this time.

Without wasting another second, he pushed off the door and took two steps toward her, intent on seeking answers. Her reaction to his sudden movement made his feet stall. It wasn’t the fact that her face blanched white; it wasn’t the fact that she took a single step backwards with obvious nerves that stopped him in his tracks.

It was the sound of the breath catching in her throat and then escalating into small, panting puffs of air that lifted her chest—and her breasts—up and down. It was the way her cheeks went from white to flushed pink; it was the way her lips parted as she held her breath for a moment before taking rapid inhalations again—and again, as if she couldn’t get enough air.

Well, goddamn. Any sanity where she was concerned was hijacked as he realized she was just as hot for him as he was for her. His motive, his intention to interrogate her dissolved in a split second as an all-encompassing need to lay his hands on her invaded his bloodstream. How the hell many days had he kept himself in check? Too many to count.

He was done being noble, he needed to taste her, now.

As if receiving permission from his brain, his body went into full throttle. Reaching out with one hand, he made a grab for her. She sucked in a breath as his fingers wrapped around the slender bones of her wrist. Unable to control his need, he jerked her toward him, her torso slamming against his, producing a pagan satisfaction deep in his core.

With her breasts pressed against him, he swung her around until her back was against the wall. He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her into him, not really caring that he was now supporting much of her weight as he pulled her to her tiptoes. The feel of her pressing against him provoked a surge of almost maddened lust as he stared down into her upturned face.

Her beautiful, exotic eyes blinked up at him as she struggled for breath.

Son. Of. A. Fucking. Bitch. She was more than hot—she was willing—she was addictive, and he couldn’t wait any longer.

His head dropped down and his mouth landed on hers. He had not an ounce of control, he couldn’t take the time with seductive kisses. He thrust his tongue against her lips, forcing them open and then forging inside with a need that made his hips push against hers with an equal force.

She accommodated him with a ragged breath, opening fully to him as she kissed him back.

Kissed him back, hell. She was devouring his mouth as if she’d never tasted a man before—and goddamn if it didn’t make his already stiff cock surge again, a drop of pre-cum escaping against his will. He pulled his hips back and slammed against her once more, grinding her into the wall as he fleshed out her mouth with his tongue. She tasted sweet—sweet and hot, open, waiting.

He wanted it all.

He wanted her with a raw sizzle of hunger that he couldn’t control, a hunger he didn’t want to control. She was pure fire in his arms and he didn’t mind being scorched by the almost awkward, innocent show of desire that was volleying back to him.

As he continued to kiss her, a slow, burning ache began building in his veins. He struggled to contain it, but it was useless. The more she shivered in response, the more she whimpered those feminine little noises into his open mouth, the more she inflamed him. A primitive hunger clawed at his vitals, the need to dominate, the need to hold her clamped beneath him while he restrained her to a flat surface became his uppermost desire.

As he held her pinned to him with one arm, his other came up between them and he sank his fingers around her breast. She made a jerky movement as her breath caught beneath his mouth but he couldn’t find the will to slow down—and by her responses, he knew she wasn’t asking him to.

She made a tiny keening sound and with it, he dropped his hand just long enough to push up her shirt and bra and then he sank his fingers around skin so soft he thought he might come in his jeans just from feeling her up. Her nipple pebbled under his touch in a split second. She moaned as her hips came against his and the pounding in his head turned into a violent, surging boom.

As he swiped his thumb against her nipple in time with the stroke of his tongue against hers, her arm lif

ted and she sank her fingers into his hair. As much as her touch excited him, it also set off a predatory aggressiveness in equal measure. With a need for confinement he couldn’t remember having felt before, he released her breast and made a grab for the hand tangled in his hair. Finding it, he threaded his fingers through hers in an unbreakable grasp and then nailed the back of her hand to the wall.

Her fingers clenched against his, pushing against him, as if testing the strength of his hold. He lifted his mouth and stared down at her, the need to make her concede to him a savage force that flattened his mouth and made him brace his legs apart.

He pushed his hips against her, the metal of his belt buckle undoubtedly something she could feel. Her lids popped up and her gaze found his. The slight wildness of her eyes should have calmed him down, but it didn’t, not in the least. He wanted her total acquiescence, he wanted her to surrender to him completely. She provoked him as none other; he felt a compelling need to claim her, to seize her and have her within his power. There was nothing sweet or warm about it. He wanted her to relinquish all control and he wanted her at his complete mercy.

And he wanted that shit with a preoccupation he couldn’t shake.

About to lower his head again, he heard the baby begin crying from the other room. Jeff knew babies and the sound he heard wasn’t a cry of pain or one of fear and he figured he had time for another taste. But Janet wasn’t having it.

She’d heard her baby’s wail as well and now the girl was pushing against him in an unmistakable pursuit of freedom.

He had no choice but to let her go to her child—but not before he got something straight between them. “This isn’t over—don’t think it’s over.”

She shook her head in denial of what exactly, he wasn’t sure. But whatever it was, it reminded him that she’d disappeared for hours earlier in the day; it made him tighten his hand around hers instead of letting her go. “Where’d you go today?” he asked, even as the baby began an all-out wail.

She stiffened against him. “I don’t have to tell you every single thing I do, who I meet or where I go.”