The Rancher Takes A Bride (The Burnett Brides Book 1)

created by your kiss."
    She took a deep breath and leaned within a hairs-breadth of him. "Maybe I don't want to be a lady."
    He gazed at her, and then his hands reached up and pulled her into his lap. "Good. Then I feel free to do this."
    His lips covered hers, and she tasted the sweet brandy on his mouth. She traced the edges of his lips with her tongue, feeling awkward yet boldly allowing his kiss.
    God, he made her crazy. Nothing ever seemed easy with Travis, yet passion burst forth every time she touched him. Passion that felt so right, so natural that she forgot everything but the feel of his lips on hers.
    His newspaper fell to the floor in a forgotten heap as he pulled her deeper into his embrace. His kiss became explosive as his lips moved over hers, devouring her. His hands were caressing her, moving up and down her arms as if he couldn't decide whether to continue or to stop. He pulled her across his lap, cradling her in his arms, his lips never leaving hers. The feel of his callused fingers trailing down her neck to her opened shirt drove her crazy with need.
    Why this man? Why this man, who thought she was a wanton, who wanted a lifeless, dull woman? Why this man when she could never be a woman who lived by the social mores dictated to ladies?
    And he definitely wanted a lady.
    She'd never met a more faithful, dependable man in her life, and for the first time realized what her life had been lacking until this moment. Travis Burnett was true to his word, and she wondered how he could make her feel a sense of refuge and safety, a sense of security she hadn't realized was missing, until he'd held her in his arms. It was almost as if she'd come home, to a feeling she'd never experienced before. Though she would never understand why
    Travis Burnett was the man who had awakened her sensuality.
    Cool air fanned across her delicate skin, and she realized that somehow the buttons of her shirt had been loosened. She felt his hand slip inside her chemise and tenderly pluck her nipple, rubbing it between his fingers. She moaned deep in her throat. She wanted more, so much more, as she arched her back fervently, giving him access to her aching breasts.
    She throbbed with a need she'd never known before, and she wanted him in the worst possible way. His lips wildly covered hers, sucking the very life breath from her as he plundered her mouth.
    He roused every emotion within her, from anger and despair to laughter and happiness. She'd never given her heart to a man before, yet this man left her feeling out of control.
    Suddenly he broke off the kiss, his absence leaving her with a sense of loss. Dazed, she opened her eyes and gazed up at him in surprise, seeing the turbulent emotions warring in his dark brown eyes just as he pushed her off his lap.
    She scrambled to keep from falling onto the floor as he jumped up from the couch.
    "Stop!" he commanded, his eyes piercing in the dim light from the lamps.
    Travis ran a hand through his hair and began to pace, his breathing rapid and shallow, his face flushed. He'd been on the verge of losing control here in his mother's parlor. Dear God, she could have walked in on them at any moment and found Desirée sprawled on her sofa, her son all over the female thief.
    Another five minutes and his sweet little mother could have had heart failure at the sight of the two them deep in the throes of passion. Desirée had taken him to the edge, and somehow he'd managed to crawl back. Barely.
    Travis breathed in and out, forcing himself to relax as he paced the floor. How was he going to keep his hands off this woman? How could they continue to live in the same house, if all she was going to do was tempt him? "We can't keep kissing like this."
    Her hand reached up and touched her swollen lips. "What's wrong with kissing? I was kind of enjoying it."
    Desirée quickly buttoned her shirt.
    "Because it's not right."
    "Felt good to me."
    He sighed, the sound heavy in the room. How could he explain nicely that he was not interested in a woman like Desirée—at least not permanently? How did you describe a woman whose reputation was definitely colorful?
    "Look, I'm not looking for a woman like you. I want . . . hell, I don't know what I want in a woman anymore. But I want someone honest. Someone who's not been ..."
    "Yes?" Her green eyes flashed like a thunderstorm and for a moment he thought she was going to strike out at him.
    "Like I said, you know nothing about me," she said passionately.