Rancher Untamed. Katherine Garbera

her again.

      He set her on her feet and led the way to his front door. He unlocked it, pushed it open and beckoned for her to enter first. They stepped into the foyer. He was a pretty traditional guy, so it was decorated with solid dark wood furniture, and the floor tile was a terra-cotta color that reminded him of the mane of his favorite stallion. He tossed his keys in the bowl on the large chest to the left of the entrance and then undid his tie, tossing it on the table, as well. In the round tile-framed mirror he caught Pippa’s gaze.

      She watched him with the stark, raw need that he recognized in himself. She moved closer, putting her hand on his shoulder and walking her fingers up toward his neck to slowly pull his tuxedo jacket down his arms and off.

      * * *

      Pippa was glad she’d left her heels on because Diego was taller than she’d realized—at least six-one. She reached around him from behind and slowly removed the studs that held his dress shirt together. It had been a long time since she’d been with a man and she wanted to make every moment of this evening last.

      “Hold out your hand,” she said, her voice huskier than she meant for it to be.

      He did as she asked, and she dropped each of the studs into his upturned palm. She watched him in the mirror as her fingers moved down his chest. It was sexier than she thought to see her manicured nails so close to Diego’s tanned chest as each tiny strip of his skin was revealed. Finally, she had the shirt undone to his waistband. She deliberately rubbed her fingers over his erection. His hips jerked back for a moment and then canted forward into her touch. She undid the button that fastened his pants before tugging the tails of his shirt out. It hung open, giving her a few tantalizing glimpses of his rock-hard stomach and the muscles of his chest in the mirror.

      “How are you so muscly?” she asked.

      He gave a half laugh, half groan sound. “I spend all my day working with horses that I charge a lot of money for other breeders to use as studs.”

      “So?” she asked.

      “I want the entire operation to project strength and prosperity and success. That means I can’t look like a schlub when they show up,” he said.

      “I like it.”

      She bit her lip to keep from just shoving her hands underneath his clothes and touching him.

       Patience.

      She could do this. She’d spent years waiting to claim her inheritance. By now she should be very good at waiting.

      She reached for his free hand and undid the cuff link, dropping it in his palm with the shirt studs. Then he poured them into his other hand, the small studs and cuff link making an almost musical sound as he did so. She smiled.

      Then she undid the other cuff link and dropped it with the other shirt studs. He closed his hand around them and shoved them into his pants pocket. She focused all her attention on Diego’s body.

      She pulled the sides of his shirt open and he rotated his shoulders, making it easier for her to take it off. His shoulder blade rubbed against her right breast, sending a hot pulse of desire through her.

      He tossed his shirt on top of his jacket and she put her hands on his chest. Diego worked outdoors but didn’t have a farmer’s tan. It was clear to her that he had spent a good amount of time in the Texas sun without his shirt on. She ran her hands down his chest. There was a tattoo in roman-type lettering that curved around a scar right below his ribs. She suspected that the scar was old as she ran her fingers over the ridge of it. She put one hand on his waist and the other on the small of his back as she leaned around to read the tattoo he had on his chest.

       Courage is being scared to death and saddling up anyway.

      “What does this mean to you?” she asked.

      “Just a reminder that getting knocked down doesn’t mean I need to stay down forever,” he said, putting his hand over hers and rubbing it up and down his torso.

      There was a thin line of hair that disappeared into the open waistband of his pants. She traced the line with her finger as she straightened back up, but he stopped her. He took her wrist in his hand and drew her fingers back to his chest.

      “I like the way you touch me, Pippa,” he said, his voice that low growly sound that sent shivers through her body. Shivers that seemed to pool between her legs.

      She wanted him.

      It had been a long dry spell for her and she’d done her share of masturbating and fantasizing about men. Diego had figured prominently in those fantasies since she’d moved to Cole’s Hill. She figured there was no way he could live up to them. She’d never had a sexual encounter that had. But there was a heat in Diego’s eyes that turned her on. Way more than in her daydreams.

      “I like touching you,” she admitted, pushing her hand into the open fly of his pants and stroking the hard ridge of his erection through the cotton fabric of his boxer briefs.

      He groaned and reached for the zipper in the left side of her dress.

      He’d done this before. She knew from the talk she’d overheard in the coffee shop after he’d left that he was a player. There were a lot of women who had either dated him or wanted him in their bed.

      “I’m lucky I got you tonight,” he said.

      “I got you,” she pointed out.

      “Yes, you did,” he said, raising both eyebrows at her as he ran his finger down her side, touching her skin as the zipper opened and the fabric parted.

      He slipped his hand in and around to her back and drew her toward him, swaying along as he sang a popular Blake Shelton song under his breath. She closed her eyes, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders while keeping her hand on his erection.

      He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered, “This is what I was thinking about each time I held you close to me tonight.”

      “Really?” she asked, opening her eyes and tipping her head back. Their eyes met and that dark chocolate gaze of his held secrets and passion. She wanted it all.

      “Yes, ma’am.”

      She fumbled around the elastic at the top of his boxers and reached inside to touch his naked flesh. “I was thinking about this.”

      He didn’t say anything. His pupils dilated, and he brought his mouth down hard on hers. His tongue thrust deep into her mouth as he lightly drew his fingernail down her back, stopping at the small of her back. He dipped his finger lower, pushing aside the fabric of her thong panties.

      An electric pulse of heat went through her as he cupped her butt and lifted her off her feet. She knew he was moving, but hardly paid any attention to it until he put her back down on the floor and lifted his head. They were in the master bedroom. She could tell by the deep, masculine colors and the large king-size bed behind her.

      He disappeared for a minute and then was back with a box of condoms that he put on the nightstand. She was glad she hadn’t had to bring up protection, that he’d just taken care of it.

      “Now, where were we?” he asked, putting his hands gently on either side of her head and tipping it back. Their eyes met again and he brought his mouth down on hers.

      And she forgot about everything.

      She let her hand fall from his face to his chest. He was warm. She rubbed her fingers over the scar under his tattoo and then down his abdomen. He shifted his hips and his trousers slid down his legs.

      “Impressive,” she said.

      He wriggled his eyebrows at her. “Thanks. I save that move for special occasions.”

      She couldn’t help smiling at the way he said it. Of course, Diego wasn’t like any other man she’d had sex with. He was at ease with his body and with her. There was no pressure to get to it and get it over with. She had the feeling that