Page 32 of Red Hot Rancher

“Hell, yeah. This is better than fireman gossip.”

She giggled. “I got an animal science minor when I did my bachelor’s. And I finished the major when I was in business school. Mom and Dad have never seen my transcripts. They just sent the money I needed.”

“What did Oliver say?”

“I never told him.”

The warm glow that ignited inside of him was instantaneous. She felt comfortable enough around him to reveal major details about her life that she couldn’t admit to her mom and hadn’t admitted to her fiancé.

“So in a perfect world”—not Moore, he knew without asking—“you’d be a rancher.”

She nodded and lay her head on the bed, crossing her arms. The angle looked awkward, but she hadn’t moved away. “In a world where I had land and money and lived in a town that’s full of nothing but good memories. Now, I’m relegated to magazines and the Sunday farm and ranch morning show on TV.”

“Are all the memories bad?” he asked softly.

“Truthfully? There are a lot of good ones, but my mind does this cool trick where it fixates on the teasing. On the comparisons to my brothers. And the feeling that I have nothing here to build a life with.” It was like slow motion. She unfurled an arm and touched the side of his face. “But I have some memories that I return to. They involve a guy. He used to sneak into my room, and I could tell him anything.”

He caught her wrist and turned her arm. Gently, he pressed a kiss to the base of her palm.

“I’ve missed that guy—for so long.”

“I missed you too.” He caught her gaze. “That is, if I’m the guy.”

Her lips curled. “Maybe it was you.”

He growled and tugged her close. “Let me help you remember.”

Sliding his arms around her, he rolled her to her back and spread himself over her. Their legs were twined together, and his body lit up like a Christmas tree. Desire surged though him and her happy sigh only encouraged him. Their clothing did nothing to dampen the effect on his body.

Dropping his head, he caught her mouth in a long, slow kiss. She tasted sweet, branding the flavor of pumpkin pie into him. It would forever be his favorite dessert.

Sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, he was met with her eager licks but he kept his pace slow, sensual. This wasn’t the rushed first time of teenagers. He was a man holding the woman of his dreams in his arms. This no-frills motel was as good as the Ritz. The comforter might as well be goose down instead of a threadbare secondhand quilt.

She opened her legs and rocked into him. He fit her perfectly. The strength in her legs only made him think of how tightly she could clench around him when she was coming. And the way her breasts pressed against him—what would they be like unrestrained, waiting for his touch, begging for his mouth?

Tunneling his hands under her shirt, he lifted it up at the same time. She broke the kiss to help him, also rolling up his shirt until they had to break apart while she swept her top off and he did the same with his.

The material cupping her creamy flesh was teal, like her eyes, with a lacy overlay that let her nipples play peekaboo. Pulling down the bra, he sucked one peak into his mouth as he wound his arms around the back of her to undo the garment.

She sighed when her breasts popped free, and he tossed the bra off the side of the bed. His pants were tight, cutting into his erection, amplifying the throb. He was living out his dream. All those years ago, he’d convinced himself that he wanted one more chance, and he thought he’d walked away from it that night in the bathroom.

His chance was now, and he’d been lying to himself. One time, a million times, it wouldn’t be enough with her. It would be impossible to get enough of her. And it wasn’t because their time together was limited. He was going into this with his eyes wide open. She planned to move. He planned to stay. But they were together for now after being apart for so long.

She arched her back into him, murmuring his name. The flush he loved was back in her cheeks and his ego preened at being the one to put it there. Her lips were parted, and her hair was mussed as she gazed at him. Keeping the contact, he kissed his way down the satin skin of her stomach. She squirmed as if hit with a sudden pang of self-consciousness, but he was determined to cure her of that.

“You’re beautiful, Bridge.” He flicked the button free on her pants and slowly ran the zipper down. “I want to see all of you.”

Her gaze flicked to the lamp with its thick shade and its weak attempt to light the room. Her throat worked like she had to think about it.

“Would you be more comfortable if I was naked too?” Rearing up on his knees, he undid his jeans and stripped them off, underwear at the same time. Next came his socks, because as comfortable as he was in his own skin, wearing nothing but a pair of socks wasn’t the epitome of sexy.

She sucked in a quiet breath. “That’s not making me feel better, Caleb.”

“I’m just a normal guy.”

Her gaze dipped to his straining erection. He’d never been harder in his life, and her gaze was like a roaring fire licking over dry logs. “There’s nothing normal about you.” She feigned a curious look. “Do you work out?”

He chuckled and hooked his fingers over the waist of her pants and tugged. “Sometimes.”

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