The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,48

to heart with Adrianna so badly that he ached from his eyebrows to the soles of his feet. Nothing was going to make that ache go away except being as close as he could get to this green-eyed beauty.

Quin peeled off her blouse, kissing every inch of satiny flesh he exposed. Each time she whimpered his name—first Cahill, then Quin—he smiled in satisfaction. He watched her blush in the lantern light as he cast aside her blouse, then her breeches. He couldn’t recall a time in his life when he’d found himself in bed with a woman that he wanted to spend so much time admiring. Her luscious curves and swells intrigued him to the extreme. She was erotic perfection and he wanted to know her soft body better than she knew it herself, wanted to discover what made her moan in pleasure and what made her writhe with urgent need.

“Give me your clothes, now,” she demanded as she grabbed hold of his open shirt.

“They’re too big for you,” he teased, then splayed his hand over her belly and slid his fingertips lower, making her groan in torment.

“I want you out of them, damn it,” she rasped shakily.

“Tsk, tsk,” he chastised in a playful tone. “That’s no language for a blue-blooded lady to use.”

Then he lowered his hand to trace the hot folds between her legs and she nearly came off the bed.

“Quin…” she panted breathlessly. “Please…”

“Now, was begging so hard?” he murmured, then dipped his head to trace her moist flesh with his tongue.

He heard Adrianna struggle to draw breath as he eased her legs farther apart to glide his fingertip inside her. He felt her burning around him and he kissed her intimately again. She dug her nails into his shoulders—and ripped the seam of his shirt in her impatience to undress him.

Quin made a feast of her supple body, amazed at how much pleasure he derived in pleasing her. But he became sidetracked when she stroked him through his breeches, then unfastened the placket to curl her hand around his throbbing length.

He wasn’t even sure how and when she eased him to his back to remove his trousers but he looked up to see her cedar-tree-green eyes twinkling with triumph at having him stark naked. She nearly finished him with erotic pleasure when she lowered her head and let her long hair caress his heaving chest while she took him into her mouth and suckled him.

Quin squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated on not passing out from the indescribable sensations assailing him. His entire body pulsated as she glided her thumb and forefinger up and down his shaft, then followed the titillating motion of her fingertips with her moist lips.

“Mercy!” he croaked, surprised at the odd sound of his own voice.

“My name is Adrianna, not Mercy,” she whispered against his throbbing erection.

“Adrianna…” he repeated on a wobbly breath. “Come here.”

She didn’t stop caressing him and he swore he would explode. He clamped his hands on her hips and turned her sideways. Then he braced himself on his forearms above her. Breathing hard, he stared down into that enchanting face and sparkling eyes that had invaded his dreams more times than he could count.

Quin angled his head to kiss her at the same moment that he pressed intimately against her. She was so hot and tight that he had to battle to prevent plunging recklessly into her. He moved slowly, gently, though it nearly killed him. She tensed slightly when he came into her, then she relaxed as he penetrated deeper. He savored the feel of her moist flesh closing around him until they were one pulsating essence.

When Quin lifted his head to make sure she was all right, she stared intently at him. Then she arched upward, moved restlessly against him, and he nearly lost his tentative grasp on his self-control.

“Adrianna…”

He didn’t know what he’d intended to say, but having her name roll off his tongue as he buried himself to the hilt said enough. He felt the fragile barrier give way, assuring him that he was her first experiment with passion. He liked knowing that, though he suspected this feisty, independent beauty would scoff at that possessive sentiment. She resented men’s restrictive expectations for women, he knew. She refused to be restrained in any manner and he wasn’t foolish enough to blunder into saying something like, Now you’re mine.

But he thought it as he moved rhythmically against her, feeling the scintillating sensations building one atop the