Alphas of Red Moon Ranch(14)

“Yeah, I know.” He grinned. “Just try it on. See how it feels on your hand.”

She could tell he wasn’t going to let up until she was wearing it, so she nodded, extending her hand. He took it and eased the ring on her finger. The stone weighed her ring finger down.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, breathless. She felt dizzy with it on.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, staring right at her. There was something new in his eyes, something barely tamed—a possessive look, like the ring was his way of claiming her, Marking her. Mine. A deep, hungry look that made her throb despite all her better judgment.

He tore his eyes off of her to glance out the stable doors at the waning sun. She liked the way the reds caught on her diamond, making her finger flicker as though it were on fire.

“Why me?” she heard herself ask, quietly.

“I know a good thing when I see it. And I’m not going to let you slip through my fingers.”

“What makes you think I’m good?” She looked up, a soft grin playing on her lips. “I could be an English teacher by day, serial killer by night.”

“Could be.” He turned back to her, then asked casually, “You ever had sex where you weren’t supposed to?”

What? Just the suggestion made her flood her panties. Curse her body’s betrayal. “No,” she said, voice small, cheeks colored.

His dark eyes caught hers and didn’t let them go. “Never had anyone lick you under your desk? Or take you in the backseat ’cause they couldn’t wait to get home to have you?”

Oh. Now she was thrumming in her panties, her body buzzing. She tried not to show it, shifted from one foot to the other, but she noticed Jacob intake a sharp breath, as though he’d caught a whiff of something he liked. “No,” she said. She and Chris had only ever done it in bed. Missionary-style. On the couch a couple times, when they got crazy.

He smirked. “That’s how I know you’re a good girl.”

Her body was aching for release, screaming for his touch. She lingered in silence, hoped he chalked up her nipples poking out of her dress to the cool night air and not to her burning arousal, and then finally said defiantly, “Maybe I’m tired of being a good girl.”

He eyes locked on hers. “Is that right?”

She nodded. “Look at where it’s gotten me. I’m divorced. Boring. Stuck making everyone else’s dreams come true but my own.”

He stepped closer then, leaning in, and his rough hands gently drew her hair behind her ear. “I think good girl looks good on you,” he said.

“Yeah?”

He nodded. “It makes me crazy.”

Well. So much for trying to keep her composure. Her mouth went dry and she opened it to say something, but tasted his tongue instead. Suddenly thirsty for him, she kissed him back with pent-up desperation and her fingers clung to his shoulders. She felt safe to be desperate about him. His intentions were laid bare, and something about his rough and rugged physique stripped away her nervousness.

And then she did something crazy. She took his hand, ghosted his fingers down her side, and then, softly, pressed his hand between her legs. Certain he could feel the heat radiating from her, the wetness soaking straight through her panties.

“You make me crazy, too,” she murmured under her breath.

A noise left him—almost a growl. She could see something in him snap, like whatever he’d been trying to contain now had full permission to run free. He kissed her again, this time without abandon, his lips almost bruising hers with their insistence. She felt his fingers curl against her panties and she sucked in a small breath of air, leaning forward on her toes.

“You’re either gonna save me or kill me,” he said, his voice ragged with lust.

“Why can’t it be both?” she heard herself say, and quietly wondered where this female Casanova had been all her life.

It worked, too. He backed her up against the wall. Eyes on hers, he tumbled his fingers between her legs, making her burn even hotter. “Don’t change for anyone,” he said.

She nodded obediently, eyes on his, lost in his eyes. Her heart hammered in her chest. She waited for him to look away, but he didn’t—not even when he walked her back and eased her down onto a pile of scratchy hay. His eyes stayed on hers as he crouched down in front of her, took off her heels, and tugged her stockings and panties over her toes. Her breath quickened as she watched him bunch her dress up around her hips, spread her thighs with his strong hands, and then, eyes still on hers—those dark eyes would be the death of her—he leaned in and kissed her right between the legs.