Men to Trust: Boss Man / The Last Good Man in Texas / Lonetree Ranchers: Brant

She blushed.

He searched her eyes for a long time. “I didn’t have the presence of mind to think about protection, either.”

She didn’t know what to say. She was still halfway in and halfway out of a new reality.

His hands slid down her body to her wide, soft hips. “Lift up,” he murmured sensuously.

She did, curious, until she saw his eyes go hungrily to her breasts. His hands slid up to them, cupping them softly. He eased her onto her back and his mouth made a meal of them, kissing and tasting until she rippled all over with renewed desire.

He groaned as his body responded with renewed arousal and sudden urgency. “Are you sore?” he asked roughly.

“I…well, I don’t…ouch!” she gasped when he touched her where the tissues were torn from their first intimacy.

He ground his teeth together. “Sorry,” he whispered.

She could feel how hungry he was. “You can,” she whispered back. “It’s okay.”

He felt those words to the soles of his feet. She would have let him, despite the pain. It humbled him to know that.

He bent to her mouth and kissed her softly, with exquisite tenderness. She tugged at his hips, but he didn’t respond.

“No,” he said softly, and he smiled at her. “Not unless you can take as much pleasure from my body as I take from yours.”

She was fascinated by the reply.

He kissed her again, very softly, and then rolled away from her. He tugged his clothes back on and stood up to finish the fastenings. He looked down at her as she pulled her discarded dress against her breasts and stared at him confusedly.

“I’ll make some coffee,” he said quietly, aware of her sudden embarrassment. “Then we’ll talk.”

He walked away. She struggled quickly back into her things, noting the curious stares of the twin Siamese cats, who probably had never seen such confusing behavior from their resident human pet. It made her self-conscious.

By the time he came back with a tray, she was sitting on the couch feeling waves of embarrassment and shame.

He sat down beside her, fixed a cup of coffee the way he knew she liked it, and handed it to her. He saw the tears she was trying not to shed.

He reached over for a tissue from the box he kept by the lamp and wiped her eyes with a tenderness that said more than words.

“I haven’t had a woman for over two years,” he said bluntly. “I’m sorry. I lost control the minute I started kissing you.”

“It’s all right,” she choked, sipping coffee. “I didn’t exactly fight for my honor.” Tears started rolling again, staining her cheeks while she tried not to let him see how upset she was.

He took the coffee away from her, tugged her into his arms, and dragged her over into his lap. He held her while she cried, rocking her in the silence of the room. He felt satiated. His body was more relaxed than it had been in years. He felt young, vital, full of fire. He smiled at the difference a few torrid minutes had made in their tumultuous relationship.

“I’m sorry,” she choked. “I’m acting like a child.”

He kissed her wet eyelids. “First times are traumatic,” he murmured, drying her eyes again with the tissue.

“Was yours?” she asked, curious.

He laughed. “The first time I tried to have sex, I was seventeen. I was dating an older girl and we were in the back seat of my parents’ car at a country drive-in, one of the last few in Texas,” he recalled. “We were going at it hot and heavy when my zipper stuck.”

She stared at him, fascinated.

He laughed again. “I couldn’t get it to budge. I couldn’t get my jeans off with it zipped. And if I broke the zipper, I’d never have gotten past my mother to my room.” He shook his head. “She was experienced, and furious. She called me a clumsy fool and said she couldn’t imagine why girls went out with me. I took her home and never phoned her again. She didn’t know it was my first time, which was all that saved my pride.”

“I can’t imagine you being clumsy,” she said, fascinated by him.

He kissed the tip of her nose. “We all start somewhere,” he mused lazily. He traced around her soft mouth. “But you were my first virgin,” he whispered, holding her eyes.

Her lips parted. “I was?”

He nodded. He pushed back her disheveled hair. “I wasn’t sure I knew enough to spare you the pain.”

“You did, though,” she whispered, and averted her eyes, flushing.

He’d noticed. He felt ten feet tall. He knew that she’d climaxed, and not just the one time. He’d given her fulfillment, despite the rough beginning. It made him proud.

He cradled her close, wrapping her up in his arms with her face in his warm throat. He rocked her hungrily, his body still tingling with remembered pleasure. “I’d forgotten how it felt,” he whispered. “I suppose I’ve been half-alive, without knowing it.”

“So have I,” she replied drowsily. She curled closer into his powerful body.

He kissed her hair. “I’m sorry I made you sore,” he whispered. “It was unavoidable.”

“I know.”

He sat holding her for a long time, so contented that he didn’t realize how late it was getting until the automatic lights outside began to come on.

“Goodness,” she exclaimed when she noticed, sitting up on his lap. “I have to get home. Mama will be worried.” She stopped, aghast when she remembered her mother and her responsibilities. She remembered what she’d done with Kemp and she felt self-conscious and uncomfortable.

He knew that. He could see it in her expression. He didn’t know what to say to make things right.

“If anything happens, we’ll handle it,” he said softly. “Don’t beat yourself to death worrying. Okay?”

We’ll handle it. Did he mean he’d pay for a termination? She felt sick at her stomach. What in the world had she been thinking? She’d just had sex with her former boss and he wasn’t a marrying man. He wasn’t going to start hearing violins if she turned up pregnant. He was going to suggest a practical solution. But she wasn’t going to be able to agree with that. It just wasn’t possible.

“I can see the thoughts in your mind, Violet,” he said abruptly. “Let’s not face problems before they appear.”

She swallowed. “You’re right, of course.” She got to her feet unsteadily, and looked around as if she didn’t quite know where she was.

Kemp got up, too. “Do you want me to follow you home, just in case?” he asked.

She looked up. “In case of what?”

“You don’t drive at night much,” he said. He scowled. “There are drunks on the roads at night around here.”

“I won’t have any trouble,” she assured him.

“Except when it comes to living with what just happened,” he remarked.