His Marriage Pact: The Rancher's Marriage Pact / The Rancher's One-Week Wife / Terms of a Texas Marriage. Kathie DeNoskyЧитать онлайн книгу.
her hair aside and kissed the back of her neck.
“It’s not you. Something was nibbling on my toes.”
His slow laugh sent pleasurable chills down her spine. “Darlin’, I can do that, but you’ll have to wait until it’s warmer or until you have your feet out of the lake.”
She smiled back at him. “You mean you wouldn’t jump in the water if I asked you?”
“Not unless you’re waiting for me, naked.”
Interesting concept, albeit not logical. “We probably should put that on hold for a couple of months.”
“It’s a deal.”
He kissed her then, thoroughly, stroking her tongue softly with his in a heady rhythm that made her want to climb all over him. If she reacted so strongly to this simple show of affection, she couldn’t imagine what she would do if he did anything else.
She would soon find out, she realized, when he broke the kiss and rested his cheek against her cheek, reached beneath her shirt and unclasped her bra. For a moment she felt like a schoolgirl making out with her first real boyfriend in a backseat, an experience she’d never really had. But when Dallas tugged the tee up over her head, taking the bra with it, she knew she was in the hands of a real man. Naked from the waist up. In wide-open spaces.
She should be mortified over being so exposed, but she honestly didn’t care. She should have been self-conscious when Dallas whispered, “Watch,” but instead she waited with excited anticipation. And the minute he began to circle her nipples simultaneously with his fingertips, she grew hotter than blazes in places still unseen.
As much as she wanted to continue to see what Dallas was doing, Paris closed her eyes and leaned back against him to savor the sensations.
“Feel good?” he asked, his voice low and grainy.
“Yes.”
When Dallas slid his palm down her belly, Paris held her breath. And when he began to toy with the button on her jeans, she automatically tensed.
“Just tell me to stop and I will.”
She frankly hoped he kept right on going, but then he suddenly halted everything, much to her disappointment. She opened her eyes and stared at him blankly. “I didn’t say anything.”
He moved from behind her, rolled down his jeans, put on his boots then stood. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”
She snatched the discarded shirt and clutched it to her bare breasts. “I don’t understand.”
“Put your shirt on and I’ll walk you to the house.”
Somewhat miffed, Paris slid the tee over her head, stood and shoved the bra in her back pocket. “I can find my way.”
“Are you mad at me?”
“No. I’m mad at myself for falling into your trap. Nothing good could ever come of mixing business with pleasure and in reality, this is a business arrangement as you have reminded me several times.”
“Between two consenting adults who have the hots for each other.” He had the nerve to wink. “Darlin’, a lot of good could come from it, as soon as you realize sometimes you can’t control chemistry. Just let me know when you’re ready to explore all our options.”
“Don’t count on that happening,” she said to Dallas as he strode away, leaving her alone to wonder why she couldn’t resist him. Why she had let him go so far. Why he could so completely splinter her coveted control, and she welcomed it.
He might have caught her in a moment of weakness, but from that point forward, she vowed to reclaim her power. Call all the shots in this sexual game he seemed determined to play. Turn the tables on him. The time had come to shed her insecurities and prove to him—and to herself—that she could be a strong woman capable of going after what she wanted, wisdom be damned. Business be damned. Fact was, she wanted him.
Perhaps she hadn’t been born a natural seductress, or acquired any real skills in thirty-two years, but it was never too late to learn. When it came right down to it, celibacy wasn’t the least bit fun.
Celibacy sucked swamp water.
Dallas had discovered that recently but learned long ago the lack of merit in a cold shower. He’d taken one anyway at dawn, following one helluva restless night. Afterward, he’d headed to the kitchen, made a strong pot of coffee, a couple of scrambled eggs and ate them at the kitchen island like he did every morning at the cabin. But his normal news catch-up routine had been disrupted by visions of the woman sleeping down the hall. Just the thought of touching Paris again, going further, going all the way, kept him from focusing on the state of the global markets. But he had to remember the annulment terms—no sex in the real sense.
If he had any hope of maintaining his sanity for the next twelve months, he had two options—take care of the problem himself, or convince Paris they should take care of each other, even if it meant not fully consummating the marriage. He liked the second plan best. Taking it slow seemed to be the only way to accomplish that goal, even though it would damn sure prove to be real hard. Literally. Now if he’d been a dishonorable jerk, he would’ve crawled into bed with her last night to solve the problem, knowing he’d had her exactly where he’d wanted her before he left her on the dock.
The problem only grew more obvious when Paris padded into the room on bare feet, wearing some short flimsy peach-colored robe, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy ponytail. On one hand, she was about as cute as a newborn foal. On the other, she looked sexy as hell, even with her face free of makeup.
She sauntered over to the counter, poured herself a cup of coffee, then turned a sleepy smile on him. “Happy birthday and good morning, handsome husband.”
She looked like a birthday gift he wanted to thoroughly investigate. “Mornin’, pretty wife.” He’d never dreamed those words would ever leave his mouth. But then he’d never imagined meeting anyone like her, either. He liked the way she moved. The way she talked. Her intelligence. Her body. And he knew he would seriously like the way she loved if she gave him the chance to partake of all the benefits that most married couples enjoyed.
Wait a minute. For all intents and purposes, they’d entered into a fabricated union. They weren’t playing house, they were doing business. If it was up to her, that’s all they’d ever be doing.
Maybe not, he decided, when she sauntered over to the island, sat on the barstool across from him and didn’t bother to close the opening of the robe, allowing him a nice view of the curve of her breasts. “Sleep well?”
Not hardly. “Fairly well. And you?”
“You mean after you left me alone topless on the dock? I’ve had better nights.”
“Sorry,” he muttered, although he really wasn’t all that sorry, except maybe about the leaving part.
She then leaned completely across the granite surface to study the newspaper in front him, causing the robe to gape more and giving him full view of her bare breasts, nipples and all. “Wall Street Journal, huh? I expected you to be reading some ranching magazine.”
He expected to elevate the island at any moment. “I’ve been interested in financial news since I acquired my MBA.”
Her green eyes went wide as she sat back down, taking his fun away but giving him some moderate relief. “I had no idea you have a graduate degree. Where did you go to school?”
He couldn’t resist rattling her chain a little. “Got it online from the University of Dumb Cowpokes.”
She laughed softly as she rimmed a fingertip around the coffee cup, drawing Dallas’s undivided attention. “Be serious for a change.”
He