Wind River Wrangler

by Lindsay McKenna

  Only vaguely aware that Roan had moved, feeling his strong male body cover hers, Shiloh slowly opened her eyes. Her breath was rasping, her heart pounding in her chest. She saw him plant his elbows near her upper arms, his expression tender as he looked into her dazed eyes. It was as if he were waiting and again, Shiloh was left knowing this man was a master of timing. After two major, rocking orgasms, her body was tender and needed time before she was ready for more. The smile he gave her flooded her with joy, his gray eyes clear, intense, and focused on her. Without a word, Roan leaned down, capturing her lips beneath his, the kiss gentle, unlike the raw throbbing sensations flooding her right now.

  Drowning in his strong mouth that cherished hers, Shiloh made a soft sound in her throat, his hands framing her face, holding her. His tongue moved from one corner of her parting lips to the other. His breath was warm and it was an effort to lift her lids, so blown by the orgasms that still owned her body and soul. She had never met a man who could be this tender; as if he intuitively knew that she needed to rest between rounds. The glittering intelligence in his eyes told her Roan was completely in tune with her body, her heart. She felt as if her chest might explode with the pure, unadulterated happiness that Roan stroked and roused to life within her. She continued to drown in his mouth, feeling his strength as a man, feeling his tongue invite hers to dance with him.

  The moment their tongues slickly met, a whole new ribbon of boiling sensations coursed through her. He emulated copulation and it triggered a primal knowing in her body and her hips just naturally lifted to meet his. A low cry lodged in her throat as he eased forward into her, testing her, allowing her time to accommodate him. The sensation was luxurious, expanding her, opening her, and she arched more deeply toward his tense hips as he held himself in check. Roan held her captive, slowly sliding in and out of her, her moans low and vibrating as the sensations stroked through her and intensified. He tore his mouth from hers, groaning deeply as he thrust fully into her.

  A gasp of satisfaction escaped her as she clung to his tense, damp shoulders, feeling the surge of his maleness within her, taking her, driving her over another boiling edge of pleasure, to a place she’d never been before. With each thrust, she gave a little cry, but it was raw satisfaction, not from discomfort. Roan tunneled his fingers through her hair, his teeth clenched, eyes tightly closed and she felt him pump deep into her one last time before their worlds flew apart on them.

  The explosiveness of her orgasm shattered through her at the same moment Roan climaxed within her. The sensations were so keen, hungry, and fulfilling that all Shiloh could do was sob with pleasure, her head buried against his damp shoulder as he gripped the long strands of her hair, his breath ragged. The strength of his body coupled with hers, the way her curves surrendered to his angles, the power of him as a man absorbed by her softness all conspired to make Shiloh faint and heady at the same time.

  Gradually, Shiloh felt Roan’s fingers begin to relax within her tangled hair as he caressed her temple and cheek, his body suddenly sagging against hers. She willingly took all his weight, absorbing his power and luxuriating in his warmth. Satiation flowed so strongly through her that she felt mindless, floating, and embraced with his heat and masculinity. Shiloh utterly relaxed beneath Roan, his male scent filling her, flooding her lungs like an aphrodisiac. Her lips lifted faintly into a smile of utter contentment. This man knew how to love a woman, no question. Her body was throbbing with pleasure and utter satisfaction.

  Shiloh had no idea of how long they lay together like that. But it felt good. Intimate. Even more important to her, making love had never been so right. She weakly slid her arms around his broad, damp back, feeling his skin react to her touch. Kissing his shoulder, his face buried next to hers, his breathing harsh and short, Shiloh nuzzled against his sandpapery jaw, savoring everything about Roan. And despite his climax, she could feel him growing inside her once again. The man was like a stallion and she smiled, not sorry about that one bit.

  And as Shiloh felt herself coming back down to earth, aware of Roan’s weight, the lean muscling against her softer flesh, she greedily absorbed every physical sensation of him within her. Her hands ranged downward toward his narrow hips, fingers splaying out, and she sensuously moved her hips against his, a silent invitation. Instantly, he growled her name, automatically thrusting deep into her. Shiloh gave a moan of gratification, smiling, eyes closed, feeling the renewed pleasure of him growing thick and hard within her once again. Roan was hungry. So was she. It had been a year without an orgasm. And he knew how to play her body like a finely tuned instrument.

  Roan lifted his head, smiling down at her, removing some strands of red hair away from her brow. “You feel so damn good to me,” he growled, and he plundered her mouth, arching deep and hard into her.

  The combination made Shiloh naturally arch to open herself as much as possible to his renewed strokes within her. She wanted Roan again. She wanted everything he could gift her with from his body to his generous heart. As his mouth left hers, he savored each of her nipples, bringing her to an edgy need once again. And as he settled on his knees, his hands spanning her hips, he drew her up against him until their hips locked, melting fire between them. Her mind instantly checked out as he thrust repeatedly into her, massaging the knot of nerves near her entrance, breathless as the powerful stroking movement drove her right over that cliff once again.

  Shiloh felt her entire lower body explode and wavelets of pleasure rippled through her until she could barely cry out. The feverish intensity and throbbing orgasm unfurled within her. The strain of his body against hers, his grate of satisfaction reverberating through her, his fists curling into the bedcovers on either side of her head told her of the joy, the thirst of their mutual need and celebration for each other. Spun into light and oblivion, Shiloh smiled and clung to Roan’s shoulders, feeling him take her, claim and brand her as his woman, once and for all.

  Hot, liquefying sensations throbbed throughout her. Perspiration was running freely off her body. She could smell their sex, the scent like a perfume to her flaring nostrils as she slowly moved her fingers languidly against Roan’s now relaxed shoulders. He lay heavily against her, his head next to hers, stroking her hair, holding her, words useless. Closing her eyes, Shiloh absorbed each of his ministrations, feeling herself sink a little more deeply into the flooding happiness swirling throughout her. Roan made her feel good about herself. Made her feel good to be his partner. There was sharing and a caring. And tenderness as he lifted his head, met her drowsy eyes, smiled into them, satisfaction burning deep in his gray ones.

  This time, Roan eased out of her. He moved onto his side, bringing Shiloh against his long, hard body, holding her close, kissing her temple, her cheek, and finally, caressing her lips with such adoration that it brought tears to her eyes. Was this what it was like for her mother and father? That their love was so deep, so all-consuming, that they fearlessly loved each other with all their heart? And this was how it felt? Nothing in her life had ever matched being in Roan’s arms right now.

  It must be, Shiloh thought, returning Roan’s kiss, relishing his mouth upon hers. There were no more barriers. Just fused, joyous oneness. She could feel his heart beating in time with hers. Their breath mingled, moist and uneven. They were sweaty, weak, and satisfied. Roan tucked her head into the crook of his shoulder and laid his head on the pillow, his fingers tangling gently through her silken hair. His other arm went around her shoulders, supporting the small of her back, holding her fully against him. Fused. One.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Nothing had ever felt so right to Shiloh as these moments. There was such a sense of fierce protection surrounding her as Roan held her in his arms. The moonlight streamers grew bolder, the room became a softer gray. Sliding her fingers across Roan’s chest, she felt his arms tighten briefly around her, responding to her caress. His jaw rested against the top of her head. Beneath her palm, she could feel the slow beat of his magnificent heart. Sens
ing the power that was a part of him, even when at rest, told Shiloh he was a warrior in repose, not really, fully relaxed. Maybe because of his many years as a Special Forces operator? There was so little she knew about him. And Shiloh wanted to know everything.

  Sighing softly, she closed her eyes, content to be cradled in Roan’s arms, his strength like a warm cocoon surrounding her. She could feel he was awake, not asleep. What was he thinking? Just feeling his lean, hard body against hers, she smiled, absorbing the potency of Roan into herself. Once again, Shiloh wondered if this was how her mother felt about her father. There was such a fierce need to connect with Roan at heart level. She felt Roan lift his hand, threading his fingers through her tousled hair. Her scalp tingled with delight, the skittering sensations making Shiloh almost purr, the sound vibrating in her throat.

  “You are so easy to please,” he growled.

  Smiling, Shiloh remained in his arms. “Maybe you just know how to please me.”

  “We’re good together.” He pressed a kiss to her hair. “But I knew we would be.”

  “What else do you know about us?” Shiloh tipped her head back against his muscular, ropy upper arm, catching his darkened gaze, the moonlight making his gray eyes look softened in the refracted light. Roan looked satisfied. Thoughtful. Happy. She saw that beautiful male mouth of his curve slightly, his fingers stilling in her hair, caressing the back of her head.

  “It’s a sensing, not a knowing.”

  “Okay, what do you sense?” She saw his smile grow more. The man was such a Chinese puzzle! He never gave anything up willingly. And if she didn’t ask just the right question, it wasn’t answered. Was that his black ops training? Or just him? Shiloh didn’t know, but determined in time to find out.

  “I see a beautiful, wild filly that is happiest when she has the run of the range. She’s free. . . .”

  “You’re calling me a horse?” Shiloh grinned up at him.

  “That was a compliment, Darlin’.”

  Shiloh considered. “I guess you might see women as horses. You grew up on a cattle ranch in Montana.”

  “I don’t see all women as horses.”

  Lifting her brows, she asked archly, “What does THAT mean?” She heard Roan chuckle. She got the sense he felt like he was dealing with a recalcitrant child who was asking too many questions. Too bad.

  Roan leaned down, taking her mouth, moving his lips across hers, sending a longing through Shiloh once more. The man knew how to kiss! Gradually, he left her lips, their noses almost touching.

  “Is this what I’m in for? Twenty questions?”

  Seeing the teasing, the amusement in his expression, Shiloh said pointedly, “You know I’m a writer. Writers are curious people. How could you think I wasn’t going to ask you questions, Roan Taggart?” She warmed as she saw laughter gleam in his eyes.

  “Which is why I see you as a frisky, risk-taking two-year-old filly. You’re full of yourself. You’re exuberant. You’re fearless. You just move from your heart on a whim and follow whatever interests you.”

  Shiloh considered his larger explanation. “Why couldn’t you have said all that in one paragraph earlier, Roan? See? I’m having to drag everything out of you again.”

  “You didn’t have to drag me kicking and screaming into your arms.”

  Snorting, Shiloh said, “That’s true.” She saw him give her a know-it-all look, as if he knew her inside and out. “Okay,” she muttered defiantly, “what else?”

  He slid his hand down her long, supple spine, caressing her hips. “There’s another question.”

  “And is this because you’re steeped in black ops stuff? That you’re closemouthed because you had to be? You know, you aren’t black ops now. It’s okay to open your mouth and speak more than one or two sentences to me. I’m not deaf. I love to hear what you think and feel.”

  Roan laughed outright, released Shiloh, stuffed a couple of pillows behind his back, and sat up. Resting against the headboard, he gathered her into his arms, hauling her across his lap, settling her comfortably against him. “I feel like I’ve opened up some floodgates,” he said, and he kissed her nose, holding her petulant gaze.

  “You know,” Shiloh murmured, running her fingers through the silky dark hair across his chest, “I see us as a mismatch. One person, me, relies completely on communication. You, on the other hand, are trained in black ops to say nothing of note to anyone. We really ARE opposites, Roan.” She lifted her gaze up to his, very serious about it. “Doesn’t that bother you?”

  “No,” he teased, sliding his fingers across her cheek, “because you’re like a cattle prod, sticking me to make me cough up something of note.”

  They both laughed.

  Shiloh nuzzled her brow against his jaw, never wanting this night to end, his arms warm and strong around her. “Okay, let’s get serious now.” She felt an instant shift around Roan. It was the oddest sensation; as if she had some kind of invisible link to him. Shiloh had never felt this with another man. Her fingers stilled on his chest and she closed her eyes, languishing within his embrace, wanting nothing more.

  “What do you want to get serious about?” Roan asked, his palm against her cheek.

  “My parents,” she murmured, opening her eyes, staring across the silent room filled with grayish moonlight. “As I was loving you a little while ago, I wondered if this is how they felt about each other. How they felt as they made love with each other. A love so deep . . . so . . . incredibly magical and word-defying. And that’s why my mother fell apart after my dad died. That she loved him with every breath she took. That she couldn’t imagine life without him being a part of her life. Almost . . . well . . . symbiotic. They were actually one person. Maybe two halves of a whole who loved each other so completely that neither of them could ever survive without the other?”

  Roan caressed her hair, his hand coming to rest on her small shoulder. “My parents have a similar love. Did I tell you that?”

  “No,” she mumbled, scowling up at him. “Remember? I have to pull teeth to get anything out of you?”

  “Guilty,” Roan agreed, giving her a patient smile. “I think that since we were both raised with parents who honestly loved each other, we were very, very fortunate. I don’t think a lot of marriages ever hit that pinnacle of love. At least, I haven’t seen it. People stay together for a lot of reasons and it’s not always because they love each other.”

  “I didn’t know about your parents . . . that’s wonderful, Roan.” And Shiloh meant it.

  “So you see?” he murmured, placing his finger beneath her chin, holding her gaze, “you don’t always lose the person you love, Darlin’. My parents are proof of that. I’m sorry you lost your parents, but maybe now you can release that fear.”

  His insight was startling. Warm. Full of hope for Shiloh. She took his finger and placed a small kiss on the end of it. “You’re just full of surprises, Taggart.” She saw him give her a very pleased male smile.

  “Stick around, Darlin’, there’s more to me than meets your eyes.”

  “Should I be afraid?” She gave him an impish look.

  “I hope not. Maybe”—he caressed the length of her arm—“look forward to every night from now on sharing my bed?”

  Shiloh tangled her fingers between his. Roan had such large hands, long fingers, sun-darkened flesh compared to hers. “You’re serious?”

  “I am,” he said, and he held her gaze. “That’s what I want for us, Shiloh. What do you want?”

  Her lips twisted and she looked down at their joined hands. “I don’t know why I always have the same reaction to that question. I start to sense fear.”

  “It’s the past, Shiloh. You need to continue to work through it and let it go. Give US a chance?” He leaned over, catching her lowered gaze. “I’m the present, Darlin’.”

  Roan was right and she knew it. “The present is like a dream to me. A wonderful one. I’m trying, Roan. I really am.”

  “I’m no dream, Darlin’. I�
��m flesh and blood. This is reality and you’re here with me.” He smiled faintly. “And you were the one who initiated it, so I think you’re more than ready to put your past to rest. Put your worries aside that anyone you might fall in love with is going to be ripped out of your life. I’m going nowhere.”

  Nodding, she felt her heart swell with more hope than fear. Roan’s voice was low and vibrating with feeling for her. He was making no bones about wanting her, wanting a real relationship. Shiloh wanted the same thing. The past was so forbidding. “I think . . . I feel,” she qualified in a whisper, “that part of my hesitation is the stalker, Roan. I’m terrified that someone is out to get me. It’s probably silly and not logical, but I run on my emotions.” She looked up at him, loosening her fingers from his, caressing his stubbly jaw, holding his dark, glittering gaze. “I’m sorry I’m not whole. I don’t feel confident about the future because it scares me. I wish I knew who was doing this to me.”

  He gave her an understanding look. “We’ll find out, Shiloh. I’m here for you. I hope you know that. You’re worth caring about,” he said, and he moved a few strands of hair off her cheek, his fingers sliding down her shoulder. “Let’s take this one day at a time. If you want to share my bed, show up at my door like you did tonight. And if you don’t, that’s fine too. The last thing I want to do is make you feel pressured. What we have is good. And it’s up to you as to what you want to do about it.”

  Some relief trickled through her. “Thanks for giving me that leeway, Roan. Until this stalker issue is closed, I just can’t focus. I’m scared. Yesterday, I felt like I was back in my apartment. I felt trapped. Terrorized. And I don’t know who this guy is. That’s the worst of it.”