The Lone Rancher - By Carol Finch Page 0,49
other until the heated pleasure became so intense he swore he had burst into flame.
Her body quivered beneath his, around his. He heard her draw in a frantic breath as she clasped him tightly in her arms. Spasms of her climax echoed from her body into his, unleashing the passion he’d tried to hold in check.
Quin groaned as he shuddered helplessly against her. He buried his head in the silken strands of her chestnut hair that splayed across the bedspread, then he collapsed above her, holding her as tightly as she held on to him.
The frustration and tension that had clamored through him over the past few hours melted away with the rain pattering against the window. The storm had broken—the one outside and the one inside—he realized with a contented sigh. He was at peace for the first time in two years, though the world around him was still in exasperating turmoil. But here in Adrianna’s encircling arms, they were one body, one soul. Nothing could conquer him…except his obsessive fascination for her.
Honestly, Quin couldn’t understand why he’d settled for occasional, meaningless trysts with other women, because being with this spirited, alluring female was so much more satisfying in every way imaginable. Sure as hell, she was going to ruin him, for he couldn’t be satisfied merely scratching the proverbial itch again.
When she shifted beneath him, Quin eased away to give her space. When she tried to inch off the bed, he draped his arm over her hip.
“Stay with me, Adrianna…please….”
He could feel her smile against his lips when she kissed him and said, “Now was that so hard, Cahill?”
Then she settled down to sleep beside him all through the night and Quin couldn’t recall being so utterly content. The room he’d left untouched for two years became his room, and having Boston here with him felt right.
He wondered what she’d say if he told her that? Quin grinned drowsily. She’d probably call him a sentimental sap…and—God forbid!—he’d have to agree with her.
When Adrianna awoke the next morning, she was alone in bed, as she had been all twenty-five years of her life. She stretched leisurely, remembering the amazing sensations she had experienced with Quin. A blush crept up her neck to stain her cheeks when she recalled how wild and reckless she’d been with Quin. Something had changed last night, she mused. She had changed. Drastically.
Furthermore, she didn’t care what rumors were chasing each other around Ca-Cross now that she had taken up residence at 4C until her home aired out. She was close enough to her ranch to oversee the rebuilding of the new addition and the breeding operation of her prize cattle. If she moved to town, she’d waste time traveling back and forth.
Besides that, she’d miss sleeping with Quin.
Rolling from bed, Adrianna freshened up, then dressed in her breeches. She was grateful the hall was empty when she strode toward the stairs. Although her entourage had taken up the rooms once used by Quin’s two brothers and sister, Adrianna didn’t hear any movement behind the closed doors. However, she did hear furniture scraping against the wood floor as she descended the staircase.
Puzzled, she poked her head around the corner of the parlor to see Quin scooting his father’s leather chair to a new position, allowing space for the sofa and chair he had transported from her house. The styles of furniture clashed but that didn’t seem to bother Quin.
“What are you doing?” she asked as she entered the room.
His silvery gaze ran the length of her body, reminding her that they had been as close as two people could get the previous night. She would have described his look as possessive, but she knew Quin didn’t think in terms of possession just because he’d slept with a woman.
No strings, she reminded herself. Last night was about desire and erotic pleasure. She was not the kind of woman who needed commitment from a man. She was a free-spirited adventuress, after all, and Quin Cahill was devoted to the success and expansion of the family ranch. Married to it, you might say.
“This furniture wasn’t too smoke damaged so I’m including it in the room…to make you feel at home,” he added belatedly.
She observed him for a long, contemplative moment. This man, who strenuously objected to change, was making marked changes in here? Just as he had taken up residence in the master suite last night? Good heavens, who knew what this hidebound traditionalist might decide to do