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

your feet. Last time was a muddy blur. Not this time."
    Travis had never felt more self-conscious in all his life, yet he couldn't help but grin. He could play her game. He slowly turned toward her and unbuttoned another button on his pants. His hands moved to his feet, and as he pulled off one sock, he caught a quick flash of disappointment in her eyes. He unbuttoned another button of his pants and smiled down at her.
    She grinned, catching on quickly, and settled more firmly into the mattress.
    He reached for his second sock and pulled it off. His fingers flicked another button open on his pants.
    He glanced up and met her gaze; the fire in her eyes scorched him, and he clenched his fists to keep from yanking the rest of his clothes off.
    Gritting his teeth in agony as he tried to prolong the suspense as long as possible, he straightened and undid another button on his pants. His manhood strained as he tested the strength of the remaining button.
    With a quick glance and a naughty smile, Travis unhooked the last button. Turning his back to her, he shucked his pants to reveal his naked skin beneath.
    When he turned around, she took one long look at him and smiled. "Where are your long johns?" she questioned.
    He crawled on the bed beside her and pulled her up against his naked skin, reveling in the feel of her satiny flesh against his.
    "I don't wear underwear in the summer," he whispered in her ear.
    She gasped. "Oh, my. You mean you're always naked under those pants?"
    Travis chuckled as his tongue teased the soft ridge of her ear. "Just me and my birthday suit."
    "Oh . . ." she said as he rolled over on top of her, his hands trailing down her silken flesh.
    "Maybe you should try it sometime," he drawled, grasping the curve of her sweet bottom.
    His hand returned to the waistband of her drawers and he yanked them off, sending the garment flying to the floor. His fingertips continued their path, down past her waist, down to the thatch of hair between her thighs. She was soft and silky and oh-so-warm and moist, just for him.
    He'd been her first lover. He was the only man she'd let get this close in her short years. He was the one she had trusted enough to show her how it could be between a man and a woman. The man who held her captive, who'd never believed in her, who thought the worst about her. Yet, she'd trusted him.
    "Oh, Travis," she whispered in his ear as his fingers delved into her moist depths.
    Gently, he cupped the center of her being, while his lips nibbled on her earlobe. His fingers brushed her satiny folds, tempting and teasing while his lips brushed her neck, trailing down her creamy shoulders, sampling her sweet flesh. Her lashes fluttered and he could feel her pulse beneath his lips pounding rhythmically as, like a cat, she arched her back against his hand, wanting more.
    In the glow of the lantern, he felt her heated release against his hand as he stroked her center, until she called his name out loud and he quickly silenced her with a kiss.
    Before this woman, no one had ever called his name out loud with need. No one had ever abandoned herself totally in his arms, the way Rose let herself go. She lay limp, trusting, in his arms, and he'd never felt so connected with another human being in his life.
    His hand reached out and brushed the tangled mass of curls away from her face, and she opened her eyes slowly. She almost purred his name.
    "Travis, I . . ."
    Her lips were too tempting as he covered them once again. He didn't want to talk right now. He only wanted to feel, to experience this woman.
    Feel her body lying beneath him. Feel her flesh wrapped around him, pulsing against him. No thoughts of tomorrow, only tonight, the two of them pursuing the desire between them.
    She slid a hand down his chest, past his waist, until she reached her final destination. He gasped, his lips releasing hers, as she wrapped her fingers around his hardened flesh, flicking the head with a gentle stroke. He lay back, letting the fierce pounding of his blood overwhelm him, as pleasure wafted over him in pulsating waves. She leaned over him, her hand still caressing him as her lips covered his. Greedily, she devoured him, her tongue tracing the edges of his lips, her hand sliding up and down his blood-engorged manhood.
    Deep, resonant sensations filled him, and he lay back and let her fingertips work their magic, rhythmically stroking him ever closer to the edge. Her lips gently nibbled on his mouth, her tongue