Kate Bridges - Rancher Wants a Wife

Her blond braid hung loosely over her bare shoulder. The soft curve of her collarbones swelled with every breath she took. She pressed the lace of her gown over her bosom and he couldn’t help but wonder how she might look if that dropped lower....

“Would you like me to leave?” he asked, restraining himself by every means he knew, but barely finding it possible due to the roaring of his blood.

Soft orange light glimmered over her cheeks. Every muscle in his body contracted, waiting for her answer.

“No,” she finally answered, and dropped her gown.

He was hypnotized as if by some magical trance. His eyes slowly raked over her body, starting with the lovely line of her throat, to the luscious swell of her jutting breasts and pointed pink nipples.

Her rib cage was remarkably slender, curving down to a flattened waist. His gaze hungrily sought the lower curves, following the rise of her belly to the triangle of blond curls, and her long, firm thighs.

Her voice was provocative. “Would you like to slip into the water with me, Jack?”

Chapter Five

Cassandra dipped her foot into the steamy liquid, loving the sensation of heat over her toes, then calves, then hips and breasts, then full nakedness. She felt more secure about herself beneath a layer of water; she was unaccustomed to any man gazing at her fully exposed, even if he was her husband.

It was her turn to gaze at Jack as he undressed.

Revealed by the lamplight, his expression was at first disquieted, as though he was unsure what to say. Then it was gone, his dashing face awash in a wicked glimmer of arousal and expectation. There were the mischievous dark eyes, the sensual mouth, the dimple in his chiseled jaw and the primal need she detected in the hurried pace of his breathing.

He draped his trousers on the back of a chair, followed by his gray waistcoat, then crisp linen shirt. She barely had the nerve to watch him, but then could barely turn away.

Stripped naked for a brief, glorious moment, he epitomized sexuality and rough strength. His chest rippled with muscles, his waist tapered to his hips, and his erection was so hard and upright she wondered how on earth they were supposed to fit together.

She stared, trying to fulfill her curiosity. So that’s what it looked like, the male part of him....

Embarrassed that she was staring, she reached for a cake of soap and slid it over her arm. How did a woman jump from being a virgin and shielding her most private parts from the eyes of men, to gain full acceptance and awareness of herself?

How was she supposed to be comfortable with this?

“Are you all right?” he asked, slipping one muscled leg into the tub, then the other. The hot water sloshed around them, nearly splashing over the top edge.

“It’s just that I’m not used to this.” She pretended to scrub dirt from her forearm.

“May I?” He took the soap from her, letting the bar slide between their fingers, ever so slippery and wet. “Relax,” he coaxed. “I won’t hurt you.”

He rubbed the cake up and down her arms, then the top of her shoulders, then down one breast. The cool soap slid over her areola, the sensation making the bud of her nipple swell. He moved the soap to her other side, then used his bare hands to lather her breasts. She inhaled in pleasure, leaned back and allowed him to caress her. She closed her eyes a moment, then felt the warmth of his mouth on her breasts.

The heat was incredible, the pull of wanton desire throbbing from her breasts to her stomach, making the center of her quiver with anticipation.

He teased her for a long time with his fingers, swirling them over her, down her arm, up the other one, across her collarbone and down her cleavage. He created a slowly building heat, until she was ready for so much more.

She opened her eyes and he approached, sliding on top of her, his large body on her slender one, splashing water over the tub edge and barely noticing. His mouth came down on hers.

Finally, a kiss.

It was soft and gentle. She’d gone too long without this, without a man in her life, without someone who wanted her.

The kiss didn’t last nearly long enough before he dragged his mouth along her left jaw and kissed her there, and down her neck. She gasped when he came back up the other side, over her jaw and pressed his rough cheek against her scarred one. It felt so intimate that she stopped breathing for a moment.

Then he ran his large hand along her waist and trailed down her hip and leg, making her burn with a splendorous promise that more was coming, soon to be hers.

The yearning. That shivery race of gooseflesh that rose and heaved. His hand was gliding farther down and over, and soon would reach...

Oh, he was there. That magnificent spot. He slid and stroked and pressed, slid and stroked and pressed, and just as she was ready, he lifted her out of the tub so her hips were raised up to his mouth, and he pressed his lips upon her.

It was exhilarating, the pleasure he brought. She was too alarmed, too surprised to fight it. His expert maneuvers were daunting. How did he know what she liked, what she wanted?

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