The Rancher's Secret Love (The Montana McGregor Brothers Book 2)

by Paula Altenburg

  She had to ask. “And the hat?”

  He grinned at her, showing a flash of straight white teeth. Green eyes crinkled. For the first time since she met him, he looked truly carefree and she got a glimpse of the man he might really be. He ran his thumb along the brim of his hat. “I thought I’d dress up for the occasion.”

  He reclaimed the flowers and carried them upstairs, sticking close behind her. His protectiveness had annoyed her at first. She found macho displays oppressive. But Luke displayed no signs of possessiveness, only good manners, and those, she chose to enjoy. She didn’t mind being treated with respect—she disliked a man thinking he owned her.

  Luke returned the flowers to her at the top of the stairs. She led him through the open door of her apartment and got a great deal of satisfaction out of the look on his face as he took it all in. Twilight had barely begun to settle, and with the blinds open and the kitchen light on, every nook was exposed. Music from La Boheme drifted in the air. She’d danced the part of Mimi in Germany one summer ten years ago while she was a student. The music made her both happy and sad.

  She found a vase for the flowers and put them in water.

  “This apartment looks nothing like what I’d expect based on the outside,” Luke said.

  He’d removed his hat. She relieved him of it and carried it through the living space to the bedroom area, setting it on the foot of her bed, then returned to the kitchen, where he’d pulled up a barstool at the island. He was watching her in a way that made her pulse race. He’d kicked off his shoes and was in his bare feet, one on the floor, the other propped on a rung of the stool.

  “You dance when you walk,” he observed.

  “So do you.” She blurted it out without thinking.

  The corners of his lips crooked upward. “Do I?”

  He thought she was teasing him.

  “You do,” she insisted, and there, in the middle of the living room, she mimicked his movements. “You move like this.”

  “That’s amazing.” His tone shifted to admiration. “That you can imitate someone so well, I mean,” he added for clarification, “although I don’t make walking look quite so… sexual.”

  “Yes, you do. It was the first thing I noticed about you. I thought you might be a dancer.” He’d definitely made her think about sex. It was all she could think about now. It was going to be good, if the kiss they’d shared in his car was any indication.

  It was also why he was here.

  “I’m flattered,” he said. He continued to watch her. “What else did you notice about me?”

  She remembered he rarely received compliments that didn’t reflect his intelligence. Had no woman truly ever told him how beautiful he was?

  She found that so sad. True beauty was about more than physical appearance, however. That was only another part of the package. Presentation mattered, too. So what compliment could she pay him that showed she’d been paying attention to everything about him?

  Because it was the complete package that fascinated her so. She couldn’t wait to unwrap him.

  His eyes said she didn’t have to.

  She wriggled between his knees and draped her arms over his shoulders. His thighs tightened around her legs, anchoring her to him, and his hands cupped her hips. Her mouth hovered above his, their lips not quite touching. He’d shaved. She caught the soft, clean scent of sandalwood.

  “Your eyes,” she said. They were such a unique shade of green. “You were so very intent on your mission. How did the focaccia turn out, by the way?”

  “It was delicious.” His voice had turned husky. He tracked the tip of his tongue along the outer ridge of her bottom lip. “So are you.”

  She tugged on the tails of his shirt, freeing them from his jeans, slid her hands underneath to the flat plane of his belly, and lowered her mouth. She hadn’t intended for things to progress quite this fast, but she wasn’t going to give him a chance to do any thinking. He’d been so good with Finn today—patient and funny—and that was the man she wanted here in her haven, and inside her, tonight.

  Luke’s hands stayed on her hips, steadying her, as she kissed him. His fingers tightened. And then, he lifted her so she was straddling his thighs. She unbuttoned his shirt. They broke apart long enough for her to push it from his shoulders and him to peel her blouse off over her head. The garments dropped to the floor, leaving him in his jeans and her in a pink demi-cup and leggings. He scrabbled around for something in his pocket, then tossed a handful of condoms onto the island.

  “Are you okay with this?” he asked, searching her face.

  She took his face in her hands the way Finn had that morning. “Of course I’m okay. I believe I started this, so stop talking,” she said. “Don’t do any more thinking either, Dr. Pretty.”

  A soft laugh rumbled from him. “I wish you’d quit calling me that.”

  “I can’t help it.” She ran her hands down his chest and over his stomach until she reached the fly of his jeans and the promising bulge underneath. “Everything about you is so very, very beautiful.”

  She undid the button and carefully lowered the zipper. He sprang free in her palm, long, hard, and thick. He nudged the cup of her bra aside with his teeth, exposing her breast. His lips tugged at her nipple, sending a tingling jolt through her belly that dampened her panties. She closed her eyes and moaned with pleasure. Her fingers tightened around him and she stroked up and down, again and again, flicking the moistened tip with her thumb until his breath came in raspy gasps. Seconds later, her bra came undone. It fell to the floor.

  Her arms and legs trembled. She couldn’t remember ever wanting someone this badly. He had one hand inside her panties, stroking her sensitive folds, dipping a finger inside her until she heard someone begging, only vaguely aware it was her. He grabbed for a condom, ripped it open, and passed it to her. She rolled it over his erection while he peeled her out of her leggings. Then, his hands on her bared bottom, he lifted her into position above him. She braced her knees on the cushioned stool and tried to guide him inside, but he was having none of that.

  “Not so fast. I’ve dreamt about this for days. It’s going to last longer than thirty seconds,” he ground out, his jaw set with promise. He took control, allowing her only an inch at a time, until she was begging again.

  “Please, Luke. I can’t wait any longer. I want all of you. Now.”

  The stool skittered backward to bang into the island, as Mara, perched precariously on his thighs and her knees, took him in deep. He withdrew almost to the tip, then thrust upward, again and again, until the ripples of pleasure turned into waves, and her inner muscles began to clench around him. They were both sweating and breathing hard. She arched her back and cried out as she came, his hoarse moans reassuring her that he was coming, too.

  The room slowly settled into place. He held her in his arms, which was a good thing. Otherwise, she’d have fallen.

  “I have so much to make up for.” He groaned, burying his face in her hair. “Although, in my defense, when a woman demands all of me right now, I have to oblige.”

  She was astride him on the stool, her clothes scattered every which way, his jeans around his ankles. Her damaged knee throbbed, but not unbearably so. He was still inside her, semi hard. Her hair was a tangled mess, she had her cheek pressed into his throat, and she didn’t believe she’d ever been this satisfied by a man.

  She propped her elbows on his bare chest and kissed him. “Don’t worry, Dr. Pretty. I got everything I asked for and more. But if it bothers you, by all means, take all night to perfect your delivery.”

  *

  The loft was dim, lit only by the moon and the stars glowing through the oversized windows. They’d turned off the light in the kitchen before moving to the bed.

  Hours had passed. Mara lay naked and boneless on her stomach beside him, her cheek cradled on her folded arms, one softly rounded buttock smooth and warm beneath his palm. Her long, dark mass of hair pooled to one side, exposing her neck.
They’d made love three times—each one longer and more exploring than the previous. He couldn’t quite believe everything he’d asked of her, or how willing she’d been.

  He’d taken her from behind while she’d bent over the back of the sofa that formed one wall of her bedroom. He grew hard again, thinking about the way he’d slid into her, and how she’d bucked against him, raising her hips and crying his name, and the way her tight inner muscles had gripped him as she came.

  Then, on the bed, she’d wrapped her long, dancer’s legs around his waist and he’d taken his time, easing in and out, tormenting her until she’d again demanded he stop thinking about it and satisfy her.

  Sex, simply for the sake of it, was incredible. There was no wondering if it had been good for her, too. She knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask him for it. She’d done everything he’d asked of her, too.

  Without hesitation. It had caught him off guard.

  He trailed the tip of his finger from the little dimple where the swell of her buttocks began and up the length of her spine. He’d brought her tiger lilies handpicked from his mother’s garden because they were the flower that most reminded him of her. She was fire.

  He’d let her sleep for a few hours, but he wasn’t finished. He couldn’t be certain she’d invite him back. Would she be through with him after tonight?

  Was this all she wanted from men and why she only dated them once?

  “You’re thinking again,” she admonished without opening her eyes, her voice sex-drugged and sleepy. “Doesn’t your brain ever stop?”

  “My brain hasn’t been driving this bus for the past…” He checked the clock. It was past two in the morning. “Six hours.”

  He’d redeemed himself. Thank God it was Jake’s turn to man the milking parlor in the morning. He’d never notice what time Luke dragged himself home. Zack wasn’t as big a concern, since he didn’t want to answer any questions, either.

  She rolled to her side and propped her head on her hand. “If you ask me if I’m okay with tonight, you can forget about coffee.”

  The round curve of her breast and its pebbled, dusky pink tip distracted him. “Coffee is the last thing on my mind.”

  He bent his head and drew it into his mouth, gently sucking, flicking the tip with his tongue. She released a shaky sigh and flipped onto her back, tangling her fingers in his hair, and cradled his head to her breast. One of her legs slid between his. She ran the arch of one foot up and down the back of his calf.

  “Oh, my God, that feels good,” she breathed.

  He moved his mouth to her other breast, then trailed his tongue to her flat belly. Her body was sleek and muscular, although he liked the thin layer of softness that he presumed was thanks to the knee injury restricting her ability to dance. He inched his tongue lower, wondering if she’d finally object. Instead, she lifted her arms above her head and spread her legs open for him. It had been years since a woman had allowed him to do this to her. His first year in university, in fact, when a classmate who’d asked him to tutor her had ended up tutoring him, instead.

  His tongue found the swollen nub he was seeking. Mara’s breathing shifted to light little pants. He played with the nub, licking and sucking, until she was arching her back, her fingers gripping his head, silently asking for more. He obliged, thrusting his tongue inside her.

  “It’s not enough,” she gasped out. “I need you inside me.”

  The scent of her—the taste, the way she wriggled her hips—had made him so hard he ached. He grabbed another condom and rolled it on. She pushed him to his back and straddled his hips, taking him so deep inside her she throbbed around his entire erection. He cupped her breasts in his hands as she moved up and down, her palms on his chest, head thrown back. She had her eyes closed, but for his part, he wanted to watch her. She looked like a wild-haired goddess, golden and sleek in the semidarkness.

  She went rigid. Her whole body trembled and tightened, and he knew she was close. Just like that, so was he. Heat shot through his groin. She cried out, then collapsed, panting, on top of him. His own release pulsed a little while longer.

  When she relaxed, and her breathing become slower and deeper, he withdrew from inside her. Carefully, not wanting to disturb her, he discarded the condom. Then, with her splayed across him and his arms around her, he fell asleep.

  He awoke to the smell of coffee and bacon. He was alone in the tangle of sheets.

  He rose to his elbows, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. It was quarter past six. Mara was in the sunny kitchen, puttering around in nothing but a pink tank top and pink panties, humming under her breath.

  Yes. He watched her. Pink was definitely a girl color, and he couldn’t find it in him to object any longer. Viva la diferencia.

  “Good, you’re awake,” she called out, all perky and cheerful, clearly a morning person. “Breakfast is ready. I thought you might want to head out early since you’ve got children waiting for you at home.”

  He hadn’t given a single thought to the kids, or anything but her, since he’d parked his car across the street and knocked on her door. He tried to smother an unwelcome suspicion. Did she really think that, or was she ready for him to leave?

  He’d left his clothes on the floor in the kitchen. She’d hung them over the back of the sofa, within reach. He wondered if that was a message. Had he served his purpose and now she was done?

  He grabbed his jeans and donned them, leaving the fly open and going commando. He padded barefoot into the kitchen, prepared to help himself to the coffee. Mara scooped bacon from the pan to a plate lined with paper towels. Her hair, a mass of cascading curls, swung round her shoulders when she moved. He could make out the shape of her pretty nipples underneath the tight tank top—one more reason to appreciate pink. And her long legs…

  His gaze drifted lower, then stopped. A track of scars ran up her knee to her thigh like railroad ties laid down by a drunk. The flesh was puckered and red. He’d known the scars were there—he’d noticed them last night—but in the dark, and with other things on his mind, he hadn’t realized just how badly she’d damaged her leg. His chest tightened. He would have been a lot more considerate if he’d been more aware.

  She glanced down to see why he was staring.

  “Ugly, right?” She didn’t sound at all self-conscious about it.

  “That’s not what I was thinking. I was thinking I knew you had a bad leg and I should have been more considerate last night.”

  Her eyes, such a clear, crystal blue against warm, golden skin in the dappled morning light, crinkled up as laughter burst from her. “You made last night all about me. You couldn’t possibly have been more considerate.”

  The guilt abated but didn’t quite disappear. “What happened?”

  The laughter died and the fire inside her lost some of its vitalidad. “A skiing accident,” she said, and left it at that.

  He considered asking if the skiing accident and her breakup with the pop star whose video she’d danced in were related, but he couldn’t see how. A little scar didn’t detract at all from the beautiful, sensual, charismatic, bailarina she was. Neither did he wish to pursue a subject she seemed unwilling to discuss. He could google it later. It would be his first ever celebrity cyber-stalking.

  More importantly, however, they were only sleeping together. Nothing more. He was no expert, but he was willing to bet it didn’t give him the right to ask nosy questions.

  A bucket of melted ice graced the counter next to the sink, along with two glasses and a bottle of wine with a water-logged label. Another twitch of guilt assailed him. She’d planned more for the evening and he’d rushed things along, because when she’d done that imitation of him and it had been so damned sexy, he’d lost any interest in niceties.

  “Grab the coffeepot,” she said, carrying the bacon to the tiny dinette set under the window. She’d prepared the table for two. Each plate held a croissant with a bowl of diced fruit beside it. He assumed the metal trivet in the center
of the table was for the pot and set the carafe down. The flowers he’d given her perched in a glass vase on the windowsill butting against the table.

  They chatted about nothing important while they ate their breakfast. The entire time, Luke wondered what happened next. He was out of practice when it came to casual sex. Had the rules changed? Had this been his one opportunity with her?

  His phone pinged. He’d set it on the island last night in case Jake or Zack tried to reach him and forgot all about it. He retrieved it and checked the message. His stomach dropped. It was from Denise.

  “Are you ready to come home yet?”

  The air turned to ice in his lungs. Did she think they’d had some sort of misunderstanding? Did she think he’d grow tired of his family?

  He fired a terse text in return. “I am home.”

  “We need to talk about this.”

  She’d had her chance. When he’d needed her she hadn’t been there for him. “We said everything that needs to be said before you got on that plane.”

  He tossed the phone on the island with too much force. He couldn’t think of anything more awkward than having his fiancée, no matter that she’d walked out on him, calling him at the home of the woman he’d just had fantastic sex with. The phone pinged again, but he ignored it.

  Mara set her fork down. “Is everything okay?”

  He forced a smile. “Everything’s fine. It was no one.”

  The expression on her face shifted from concern to one of caution, and he replayed what he’d said.

  It was no one.

  He should have said “nothing,” not “no one.” Now, he owed her an explanation. “It was my former fiancée. We’re no longer together.” What a dumb thing to say. That was pretty much what “former” meant.

  “She still texts you, though,” Mara said. All of her earlier cheerfulness had disappeared.

  Damn it, he had no reason to feel guilty.

  If only he didn’t sound so damned guilty, too. “I’m not twelve, Mara. I’m not going to block her. This is the first time she’s tried to contact me since we ended our relationship.”