Rancher in Her Bed

by Joanne Rock

  It was okay if she just sank into the moment. Closing her eyes, she gave herself over to the feelings and met his hips thrust for thrust, finding her own rhythm.

  When he rolled her on top of him, she moved with abandon, letting her body take the lead, feeling the delicious heat build again. She staved it off by focusing on him. On kissing his neck. Nipping his jaw. Tipping her head to one side to drape her hair along his chest and drag it upward like a silken touch.

  She knew he was close when he gripped her hips. Holding her where he wanted her. Guiding her. Only then did she give herself over to everything she was feeling. For the second time. When his muscles tensed everywhere, hers did, too. She flew apart a moment before him, his shout drowning out her soft cries as pleasure tumbled through her until she was wrung out from it.

  She slumped to his side, holding him tight. Wanting to curl up against him and stay there forever.

  Dangerous thoughts.

  But she was too damned fulfilled to push the notion away. The aftershocks still trembled through her as their heartbeats slowed, their breathing synched.

  While the spinning ceiling fan cooled her skin, she did exactly as she pleased and laid her head on his chest. If she only had one night with Xander Currin, she was going to make the most of every moment.

  * * *

  Xander knew he’d stepped over a line by sleeping with someone he employed. It had been unethical. Selfish. Shortsighted.

  And he still couldn’t scavenge up even the slightest regret about it.

  Frankie had brought him something more valuable than physical pleasure tonight, although the sex alone had floored him. She’d also somehow given him a night of peace from his personal demons, and that was a surprise he wasn’t ready to analyze. He combed his fingers through her hair in the quiet aftermath of lovemaking, savoring the stillness in his brain. The lack of guilt and grief that had dogged him after nights with other women.

  How had she done that?

  Or was it simply time for him to turn the page on his past for good? He tamped down those questions to focus on the woman beside him.

  “Can I get you anything?” He twined a lock of dark hair around his finger, wanting to be thoughtful. Considerate.

  Wanting her to stay longer.

  “Clean skin.” Glancing up at him, she grinned. “I’ve never worn makeup like this before and I’m scared I’ll leave half my face on the pillow.”

  Gently, he traced one of the wings on her eyeliner where it slanted toward her temple.

  “It still looks perfect.” Her skin was so soft. “But if you come in the shower with me, I can promise you’ll end up with a clean face. Eventually.”

  He could read the desire in her eyes as she followed his thinking. Her fingers flexed against his chest.

  “That sounds...ambitious of you.” She walked her fingers down his abs. Lingered there.

  Hunger for her stirred. Already.

  “I aim to please.” He slid off the bed and tugged her to her feet. “Besides, I already know what it’s like to be with your exotic alter ego, Francesca. But I’ve got a serious thing for Frankie.”

  He pushed open the door to the guest bedroom’s en suite bath and reached into the shower stall to flick on the water. Eight jets turned on at once, but he dialed off four of them to give them more options.

  “I might need a putty knife,” Frankie observed as she rubbed at a streak of gold-flecked shadow on her brow bone. “Your sister used something called makeup setting spray on my face. I didn’t even know there was such a thing.”

  “Annabel is a beauty artist.” He grabbed two washcloths, a condom and a bar of scented soap from the cabinet and set them on the teak shelf in the shower. “But in my opinion, you’re even prettier without the wizardry.”

  Frankie turned away from the mirror, her eyebrows raised in surprise for a moment, before she shook her head. “Thank you. But Annabel made me feel worthy of the dress and the event, you know? Like my face was dressed up, too.”

  “Well, we’re undressing you now. And I have to say, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed unveiling you tonight.” He pulled her into the shower with him and she tipped her head back into the spray.

  He took his time washing her—massaging shampoo into her scalp until her head tipped back against his shoulder. After rinsing out all the lather, he went to work with the washcloth, lingering in some areas. Behind her neck where she was exquisitely sensitive, and at the small of her back where touches made her shiver with pleasure.

  Xander would have gladly denied himself longer, enjoying the discovery of what she liked best. But when he teased the cloth just inside her hip bone one time too many, she reached for the other cloth and began her own sensual journey around his body. She used her lips, too, arousing him with hot, wet kisses while she massaged his skin with her fingers. Driving him to the brink with no more than that.

  When he didn’t want to deny either of them another minute, he tugged the terry cloth from her hands and tossed it on the tile floor along with his. Sheathing himself with the condom, he shielded them from the spray with his back. Her breath came in fast pants, her green eyes unfocused and desire-dazed. He parted her thighs and entered her in one stroke.

  He lifted her higher until she wrapped her legs around his waist. Water sluiced over her while she arched into him, her hands splayed on his shoulders to steady herself, her head tipped back in abandon. There was something so uninhibited about her. So damned sexy.

  He wanted to delay his release, but seeing her like this was more than his senses could take. He reached between them, trying to throttle back his needs for the sake of hers, stroking the sweetest center of her that elicited soft cries from her throat. Tiny moans. He felt the tension in her, too. Her back bowed harder, her ankles locking him in place.

  The rapid pulse of her feminine muscles against him was the last straw, drawing him deeper. Finishing him. He gripped the partial wall of the shower to steady himself while pleasure pummeled him.

  He didn’t move for long moments afterward, not trusting his legs if he shifted his feet. Finally, she unwound herself from him with his help, until she stood on her own feet again. He’d never felt so damned good.

  And with that thought, the guilt came crashing back over knowing he had nothing left inside him to offer a woman after losing Rena.

  Fighting through it, he turned off the water and passed Frankie a towel, then grabbed one for himself. As they dried off together, he acknowledged that the bout of grief felt further away than normal. He might not have even experienced it this time if he hadn’t thought about how damned amazing it felt to be with Frankie.

  The best, a contrary part of his brain insisted.

  All the while, he somehow carried on a conversation. He helped Frankie find a comb so she could untangle her hair. He urged her to lie down with him afterward, assured her that she didn’t need to leave yet.

  But he knew he’d checked out on her. The same way he had with other women ever since his fiancée died. What disturbed him was that this time, he hadn’t simply enjoyed the sex for a temporary escape.

  Tonight was different because he didn’t want their time together to end. And considering that he had no plans to enter a real relationship again, Xander could tell things were about to get complicated.

  Six

  Back in bed an hour later, Frankie wouldn’t let herself fall asleep.

  Lying beside Xander under the covers, she listened to the sound of his breathing slow as she tried to figure out what had happened tonight. Something had shifted between them after the shower. Or rather, something had shifted for Xander afterward. She could practically feel him pull away from her in the moments after the incredible release. A tension had crept into his whole body. Whereas after the first time, he’d been just as relaxed as she in the aftermath.

  Had she reached the time limit Xander
seemed to put on all his relationships? It was like a stopwatch had gone off in his head telling him that he’d spent long enough with her. And that stung—hard—even though she’d known going into this that it would happen.

  He’d continued to be kind to her, saying the right things, massaging her shoulders and finding a clean T-shirt and shorts for her to wear. But she could tell he’d checked out on her. Emotionally. Mentally.

  So when his breathing grew deep and even, she slid from the bed and retrieved the beautiful gown and shoes Annabel had let her borrow. Her cabin was close, but the barn with the vehicles was even closer, so she borrowed a ranch pickup truck to drive herself home. She’d return it early in the morning anyway, because she didn’t expect to sleep much after everything that had happened.

  Her brain would be busy churning through all the details and trying to figure out what would happen next. She wasn’t worried about her job, per se, because Xander was too honorable to make her work difficult for her. But she did worry how the rest of the ranch workers would treat her once word got around that she’d dated the boss. It would be awkward.

  But somehow, she had to move forward now that she’d slept with a man she’d crushed on for the better part of a year. He shouldn’t have the power to distract her from her future anymore.

  Except she had the sinking feeling she was fooling herself about that. Because even now that the mansion lights were well behind her, she still caught herself looking back in the rearview mirror, thinking about what might have been if she could have spent the night.

  * * *

  The morning after the disastrous Texas Cattleman’s Club Flood Relief Gala, Angela Perry woke to the sound of text messages on her phone. One chime after the other—all notifications from Ryder Currin.

  Closing her eyes against the cheerful sound that she’d assigned to his messages, Angela burrowed deeper in the pillow of the guest suite at Perry Ranch—formerly her childhood bedroom. She’d ridden home with her father after the gala in an attempt to calm him down. He was so upset with her for daring to date Ryder that smoothing things over had taken the better part of the night. Instead of calling for a car to drive her back to her condo, she’d retreated to one of many vacant bedrooms at the ranch, gravitating toward the one that used to belong to her back when she, Melinda, Esme and Roarke had been raised here.

  The house echoed now, with everyone gone but her father. Roarke had moved all the way to Dallas to escape the family. Esme and Melinda both lived downtown, like she did. Their mother had been gone for ten years now, and Angela missed her every day.

  Being here wasn’t the same anymore, but Angela had been too tired to argue with her dad last night. Besides, she had an ulterior motive by staying here.

  Levering up on one elbow, she checked her phone and saw three texts from Ryder.

  Does Sterling dictate who you date?

  Last night didn’t end the way I had hoped.

  I’d like to speak to you in person.

  Tension balled in her gut. She felt guilty about leaving the party without him last night, but she wasn’t ready to face Ryder yet.

  Not until she spoke to a neutral third party to learn whatever she could about Ryder’s past with her mother. She’d heard the gossip that he’d had an affair with her mom, Tamara, back when Ryder had worked at Tamara’s father’s Ranch. There were rumors that Ryder had blackmailed her mother into convincing her own father to will Ryder the land that had made the Currin family wealthy.

  Angela didn’t buy it—not any of it. But her closest friend and a fellow Perry Holdings vice president, Tatiana Havery, had convinced her to ask around the ranch and speak with employees who’d lived here back when Ryder worked for Angela’s maternal grandfather—Harrington York. To find out if any of them remembered seeing her mother and Ryder together in a way that seemed suspicious. In those days, the place hadn’t been called Perry Ranch. Angela’s father had changed the name from York Ranch after Harrington died.

  Tatiana’s advice had seemed wise, but then, it was no surprise Tatiana would look out for her since they’d been friends as far back as boarding school days. When they’d first met, the Havery family had been even more influential than the Perrys, and Angela had always appreciated Tatiana’s blunt honesty. Now, taking her friend’s advice, Angela would simply learn whatever she could for herself about Ryder’s old friendship with her mother, and then she could move on.

  Once she’d done that, then she’d answer Ryder’s texts. Because if it was true that he’d had a secret affair with her mother long ago... Angela couldn’t even contemplate that. Especially not now that she’d kissed him and the chemistry between them had been amazing.

  Clutching her phone tighter, she forced herself out of bed because she knew whom she needed to seek out. One of the older ranch hands who’d been on staff forever and Carla, the maid who’d worked in the house the longest. Angela just needed to be discreet about questioning them because she couldn’t afford to give her father any more reason to get riled about her relationship with Ryder.

  There was no question Sterling Perry hated Ryder. But was it simple resentment that Ryder had made a fortune from land that Sterling had coveted for himself? Or did her father know firsthand that Ryder had had an affair with Angela’s mother?

  The sickening feeling in her belly grew worse. She couldn’t imagine her mother having an affair, no matter how much Sterling ignored her. Tamara hadn’t been that kind of woman, had she?

  Angela believed her mother would have gotten out of her marriage before she did something like that. But then again, those rumors persisted.

  One thing was certain, however.

  She wasn’t leaving Perry Ranch until she got some answers.

  * * *

  By noontime, Frankie hadn’t seen any sign of Xander, but she told herself that was only because she’d been in the far west pasture all morning, checking and mending fence before they moved half the herd there next week.

  As sundown approached and she still hadn’t seen him around the barns, however, she guessed he was avoiding her.

  Because he was angry with her for leaving while he slept?

  Or would he simply behave as though last night had never happened—and go back to his old pattern of avoiding her?

  She was repairing a gate to prevent one of the escape artist goats from opening the latch when Xander entered the paddock area. He’d always snagged her eye in the past with his lean, muscular build, his long-legged stride and those blue eyes clear as a Texas summer sky. But now that they’d been together and she knew what it felt like to be at the center of that azure gaze, the draw of his presence was almost impossible to resist. Could it have been any more obvious to her that spending one night with Xander hadn’t cured her crush on him? It took a supreme act of will to straighten up from her work with a casual air.

  “The gate is fixed.” She demonstrated the new double-latching mechanism because she was nervous and didn’t know what else to say to the man who was her boss but also her temporary lover. “No more late-night roaming for the goats.”

  “Thistle is getting ready to have her foal,” Xander told her as he stalked past her, heading into the barn without slowing his step or giving more than a passing glance to the gate latch. “I told Len to schedule you in the barn tonight, and let him know you need more hours with the animals.”

  She tucked her screwdriver into a side pocket on her work cargoes and hurried after him. She didn’t know what she was more excited about—being with the mare who was going through her first delivery, or having Xander’s approval to log more time with the ranch’s livestock.

  Did that mean he wasn’t upset with her? Or had he simply given her this boon because he was going to drop her like a hot potato after last night? She tried to steel herself for either scenario.

  “Really?” She sidestepped a couple of barn cats asleep on the walkway. Appare
ntly they were taking the afternoon off from hunting mice. “Thank you so much.”

  Once they neared the birthing stall, Xander toed the barn door shut behind them. No doubt to help keep Thistle isolated and calm for her first birth. Frankie had been around the barn for births of calves and kids, but never for one of the foals. And never for the whole delivery.

  She’d assisted in plenty of other births while shadowing a local vet, but this was different. Special, somehow, because she knew these animals. She might just work here, but that connection sort of made them “hers,” too. In her mind, anyway.

  “You left last night.” He faced her head-on, a stubborn set to his jaw as he stood in the shadows cast by the huge post beams holding up the roof. “Care to explain that?”

  His eyes found hers even as she tried to adjust to the dimness. She could see the disappointment in his face. Hear it in his voice. Confusion knotted inside her. Had she misinterpreted his signals? She was so sure he’d pulled away from her.

  “I didn’t want to overstay my welcome,” she told him carefully, surprised he was willing to bring up the private subject while they were working.

  She wandered closer to Thistle, a pretty buckskin quarter horse with sooty shading on her back.

  The mare didn’t seem agitated yet, nickering softly as Frankie rubbed her muzzle. The scent of fresh hay drifted up from the horse’s hooves as the mare shifted her weight.

  “Did I make you feel unwelcome?” Xander asked, keeping his voice low, probably out of deference to the soon-to-be mother.

  Even so, the deep rumble sent an answering shiver through her as he ran a hand along Thistle’s flank, most likely assessing the position of the foal.

  “No.” She’d felt very welcome. Also, she’d felt more sensually fulfilled than she’d known a woman could be. But she wasn’t sharing that. “Maybe I just didn’t want to face morning-after awkwardness.”