The Rancher's Surrender Read online

  That stopped him. "You know who you are."

  "No, I don't, I know nothing about myself. Nothing! Not what kind of place I came from. Not my heritage, my culture." Slowly she shook her head, staring off into space. "I don't know if my father ever held me. Hell, I don't even know if he knows I exist! It drives me crazy that I can't remember."

  "You were only three," he said softly. "Just a baby, Zoe. It's not your fault."

  She wanted to believe that. "I just wish I knew why my mother left me."

  "You could try to find her," he suggested quietly.

  "I've tried. Cade's working on it, but there's nothing. She's gone and I have no idea who I am."

  He was shaking his head. "You decide who Zoe is, no one else can do that. It doesn't matter if you were born in the gutter, no one can take you away from you."

  He was talking from experience, they both knew that.

  "And then there's you," she whispered. "You make me feel things … things I don't want to feel. You want to know me, you want me to let you in…" She let out a pained laugh. "You want me to let you in when I can't find the door to open. I mean, I can't even tell you what my father's name was, Ty."

  "Zoe." There was compassion in his voice and something that sounded very much like pity, which she couldn't take. She was going to break down right here in front of him if she so much as blinked.

  "I'm sorry," he said so gently her eyes filled. She needed out. Now.

  "I'm thirsty," she muttered, and dashed into the kitchen, swiping at her eyes.

  When Ty followed her, he found her standing in front of his opened refrigerator.

  "I need something to eat," she said with a hitched breath.

  "I thought you were thirsty."

  "Well, now I'm hungry."

  He sighed. "I'll take you home."

  "You … you want me to go?"

  He looked at her, saw the fear and nerves, and cursed himself for pushing her. Cursed himself for caring so much.

  "Fine. You won't talk, but you want food." He yanked a tub of ice cream out of the freezer and dropped it on the counter. Grabbing a can of whipped cream from the refrigerator, he shoved it at her. "Go for it."

  Reflexively she took the can, clutched it to her chest. "I don't know what you want from me."

  "I want…" What did he want from her? "Hell," he muttered.

  "See?" she cried. "It's not that easy, is it?"

  "Yes, it is," he decided. "I want you to open up and talk to me."

  "No, you want me to tell you how I feel about you."

  "That, too," he agreed.

  "But— But you've never told me how you feel."

  No, he had to agree, he hadn't.

  "Tell me, Ty."

  Without warning, his heart started pumping, because she was right, it wasn't nearly as easy to define as he'd thought. He stared at her, struggling. "Zoe—"

  "Oh, forget it." Turning from him, she touched the container of ice cream. "I don't want to know how you feel, anyway."

  A blatant lie, but one he was willing to let her have at the moment, because for some reason he was frightened, truly frightened. Big, bad, tough Ty Jackson, scared to death by this woman. "I want you," he said to her back. "There's more, but I'm not sure I'm ready for the rest."

  "Convenient."

  "Honest," he corrected her. "I won't ever hurt you with lies, Zoe."

  "So you want me. That's not really that big of a secret, Ty."

  "Neither is the fact you want me back."

  She stiffened and clammed up, which infuriated him. "Eat," he said, opening the carton. "Go on. Keep pretending you're not the least bit affected by me, that you feel nothing—"

  She whirled around. "At the moment, I don't have to pretend a thing!"

  "You're so full of—"

  She popped the top off the whipped cream and sprayed it in his mouth and on his face, muffling the rest of his sentence.

  Cold stickiness clouded his brain so that for a moment he could only gape at her, he was so shocked. She was shocked, too, if her wide eyes were any indication. Slowly those eyes blinked, then ran over his face, stopping at the sight of the cream around his mouth. Ty licked his lips to speak and her eyes were riveted to the action.

  Heat spiraled through him irrationally. He didn't stop to think about the wisdom of his actions, he simply reached for her, but she was quicker. Backing up a step, she aimed the can at him and looked comically fierce. "Don't take another step," she warned.

  No way was she going to squirt him again, he thought, taking another step.

  She shot him in the chest and stomach, layering whipped cream over his shirt.

  "You're going to be very sorry for that," he promised, grabbing her, wrestling the can from her hand and, without qualm, using his superior strength to wrap a long arm around her, holding her immobile against his side. He held up the can with a nasty smile.

  "Don't you dare," she choked, wriggling against him in a way that had his blood boiling.

  "Never dare me, Zoe." With that he deliberately and slowly shot whipped cream over her, ignoring her struggles and squeals. Or maybe using them as an excuse to shoot lower, across her front. Her outer plaid shirt, unbuttoned, had come off her shoulders in the struggle, pinning her arms to her sides. All the more perfect, he thought diabolically. It took only a couple of more squirts to have her T-shirt plastered to her breasts, the firm curves perfectly outlined for his enjoyment.

  Her nipples were hard and straining against the thin cotton, and his mouth watered. His body tightened and he held her still, staring down at the sight he'd created, wondering how in the hell he was supposed to let her go now.

  "I'm going to scream," she gasped, but her eyes told him something entirely different.

  "Yeah?" he whispered thickly. "Do it." Still holding her, he bent her back over his arm and put his mouth to her throat, sucking the gooey stuff from her skin in little love bites, waiting to see if she made good on her threat.

  She didn't scream at all, but moaned and clutched at him. He trailed his tongue down, licking as he went, and Zoe went wild in his arms, leaving no doubt in his mind as to what she wanted. He dragged open-mouthed kisses down, down, then hovered over an aroused and waiting nipple.

  She stopped breathing.

  So did he.

  He felt as though he were drowning in desire, needing her beyond all sanity. His tongue darted out and licked at her through her cotton T-shirt and she did scream then, arching up so that he could suck her breast into his mouth.

  When she was without reason, Ty lifted his head, gazing down into her flushed, damp face. "This is where you belong, Zoe. In my arms. I'm going to prove it to you."

  Her eyes cleared and flashed, her mouth opened, surely to claim otherwise, and he took full advantage, swallowing her angry words with his lips. He could taste the lingering brandy, and her own sweet breath. Could taste her desire, and the fear of that very thing. Could taste the confusion and remembered pain of her past, and that hurt he tasted touched him as nothing else could have.

  Gentling the kiss, he drew her even closer, sank his fingers into her glorious, now-sticky hair and deepened their connection. She responded immediately, pressing against him with an urgency he understood all too well. This had been too long in the coming, too much tension, and he had no idea if he could slow down enough to do it right.

  But then he slid his hips against hers and she stiffened in his arms, inexperienced and uncertain. There was just something about her, so wise and yet innocent, and it tugged at his soul.

  And he knew in that moment that for her, he could slow down.

  He could do anything.

  "Zoe."

  She looked at him from beneath slumberous green eyes. Their bodies were glued together by the whipped cream, belly to belly, chest to chest. He wanted to make love with her, but he wanted so much more. And even more shocking, he wanted her to want those things, too. "I want—"

  "Kiss me again, Ty."

&nbs
p; "But—"

  "Dammit, you started this, now kiss me!"

  Taking matters into her own hands, she wriggled her hands free, grabbed his ears and pulled his head down to hers.

  The kiss was wild, and he was weak, losing himself in the woman holding him as if she'd never experienced anything like it before. As if he were all she could ever want.

  A nice fantasy, but he wanted it to be a reality. His reality. "Zoe—"

  "You talk too much," she murmured against his lips. "Make love to me instead. Please, Ty. Make love to me."

  * * *

  Chapter 15

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  So much for him claiming this woman as his own. Zoe was doing that for him.

  She reached for the hem of his sticky shirt. Pulled it over his head. Stared in wide wonder at his bared chest, letting out an appreciative breath that made him laugh shakily.

  "You're so beautiful," she whispered.

  He did the same, pulled off her shirt, and was equally awed. "Not like you." His voice was thick with need, and he was surprised he could speak at all. "I want you, Zoe. I want you skin to skin, beneath me. I want to hear you cry my name as I sink into you." Her eyes darkened to a forest green, her breath quickened. "I want you wild for me," he whispered. "Only me. Always only me."

  Now fear flared in her again, mixing with her need, and he didn't care because this kind of fear he could assuage. Once again he drew her close, slipping his hands down her bare sides, his thumbs flirting with the curves of her breasts. "I want you to want me back, to give me everything you have. One hundred percent of you, the real you."

  Even in a haze of desire, she understood every word, which only increased her fear. She had hurt him by holding back and he needed to know, in this one area at least, that she would give all. But she herself was just beginning to know the real Zoe. How could she share that woman? "Ty—"

  His fingers played with the front clasp of her bra.

  "Um … Ty?"

  The clasp fell open.

  "I…"

  "What, sweetheart?" His hands found her bare breasts and every thought danced right out of her head.

  She wanted skin to skin, too. She wanted to be beneath him. She wanted to go wild, right here, right now, because in Ty's arms she was everything she wanted to be. He could make her feel loving, warm, wonderful … a somebody. In his arms she was a passionate, hungry, beautiful woman, and she liked it.

  She surged forward and kissed him, and it wasn't sweet or tender. It was hot, deep and full of need. She jerked him closer, then closer still, until she could feel every sticky, powerful muscle of him. She could feel his hard length behind the buttons on his jeans, and when she slid against it as he had done to her earlier, he moaned low in his throat, a sound that thrilled her.

  "Be sure." His voice was gritty, harsh.

  He was barely holding on to his control, and Zoe's excitement surged. She'd never been more sure of anything in her life. "Now, Ty. Please, now."

  He pressed her back against the counter. His expression was fierce, nearly violent. "All of you," he demanded. "This time, all of you." He wasn't talking about her body now, but he'd take that, too.

  "Yes."

  Her simple acquiescence fueled him. Lifting her left leg up and around his waist, he pressed himself intimately against her, making her gasp. His eyes flared as he slid himself against her slowly in a mimic of what he really wanted to do. His tongue teased hers, his hands streaked over her. The rhythm of his hips drove her to the very edge, making her dizzy and overwhelmingly out of control. Consumed by heat, crazed for more of this sampling of true passion and undeniable need, she dragged him down to the floor.

  "Zoe." His voice was so rough and grainy she hardly recognized it. "Not here," he managed to say, pulling away. "God. Not on the floor, not the first time. Let me—"

  "No." She couldn't let reason intrude, and it would if she let him stop now to take her to bed. She wrapped her jeans-clad legs around his waist, holding him, pressing herself against his rigid heat.

  He went still, every muscle tense, his eyes glittering. And when he would have spoken again, she slid against that same spot. "Please, Ty."

  He growled as his restraint broke. Reaching for her jeans, he nearly tore them off as he dragged them down her legs. His tongue blazed a trail from her jaw down over her neck, licking at any lingering cream he found, making a low sound of approval in his throat as he went. He found the sensitive spot behind her ear, at the hollow of her throat, at the edge of her collarbone. And finally, oh finally, the taut, aching tip of her nipple, which he took into his warm mouth, sucking deeply until she was arching and writhing and rolling her hips, unable to catch her breath.

  His hands stroked her, soothed and tormented all at once, until she felt as though she were on fire, sensations and emotions ripping her apart as she'd never felt before. His fingers stroked her thighs, shifting them open to touch her moist, creamy center, which he purposely and slowly traced with his finger. "Please, please…" she gasped over and over, mindlessly unaware of what she was saying.

  But Ty knew, and he understood the fire. He'd wanted her like this, consumed and beyond all reason. Only he hadn't expected that fire to be his, too.

  She was wet, hot and all his, and it was all he could do to keep from sinking into her, burying himself deep and taking them over the edge with just one stroke.

  Impatient with his pace, Zoe surged up and yanked on his jeans, tearing at them until he helped. "Tell me you replaced the condoms for new ones," she gasped.

  He had, and she got yet another first that night—rolling one on, which was such a turn-on they were both sweating by the time she had finished. They rolled over the floor, kissing, stroking, nipping, licking … moaning.

  He tucked her beneath him, holding her face in his hands as he looked down at her with a hungry tenderness. "Zoe … sweetheart … is this your first time?"

  She laughed breathlessly, both exhilarated and embarrassed. "I'm not a virgin, but—I've never…"

  "Had an orgasm?"

  She reddened at his characteristic bluntness and nodded.

  "You'll come for me," he promised in a thrilling whisper. "Soon."

  He rolled again, taking her with him. On his back on the linoleum, Ty lifted her up to straddle him. She felt … exposed. "Bend down a little," he coaxed. "Yeah, like that. Just like that." And he took a breast into his mouth, teasing the aching peak with his nimble tongue. Her hips moved restlessly against his, brushing against him until he groaned her name. "Take me," he murmured, his hands on her hips, urging her. "Zoe, take me."

  She hesitated a moment, which nearly killed him, then she was sinking, sliding down on him one slow inch at a time, until he was buried deep. They both let out a gratified sigh.

  Gripping his shoulders, she dropped her head so that he was draped in her beautiful, wild hair. She stared at where they were joined, and she went utterly still.

  She had changed her mind and he was going to die. Right here on the floor, still coated in whipped cream and covered by Zoe.

  "It's … so…" Experimentally she shifted, staring at him now, her eyes so dark they were black. "It's … oh, Ty, it's amazing," She closed her eyes. Her head fell back now, her body arched, her breasts thrust out. "Don't stop."

  "Never," he promised, but "never" came far too soon as she slowly rocked her hips on him. He was shaking with the urge to grab her hips and thrust deep, but he wanted the pace to be hers, wanted to see her shatter over him. With his thumb, he stroked her slowly. She gasped. Her breathing came in short, little pants. Her hips rocked faster, then faster. She whispered his name, her eyes flying open to gaze at him in wonder, in an open way that allowed him to see into her soul.

  He lost it then, gripping her hips, plunging into her until she moaned his name again, until she convulsed and shuddered and came over him in a mind-shattering explosion that triggered his own.

  * * *

  His heart thundered beneath her ear. His skin
stuck to her. Though it took every last bit of energy she had, she smiled.

  "I'm not sure anything about that was amusing," Ty managed to say, his hand caressing her back where she lay collapsed on him in a trembling, contented heap.

  "I'm thinking it was the whipped cream that did it for me," Zoe said. "You know … the missing ingredient." Embarrassment hit her then, because her admission that what they'd just shared had beat anything in her experience seemed naive. "I mean—"

  "I know what you mean." His hand came up to cup her cheek. His other arm snugged her closer against him, a protective, possessive gesture that somehow warmed her. All trace of humor was gone when he answered, "And it wasn't the whipped cream, Zoe. It's us."

  Commitment terrified her, that hadn't changed with their little kitchen romp. No matter how wild, how hot, how soul-shattering it had been for her, she still couldn't find the words to tell him he was right.

  She didn't make promises. They were meant to be broken. And he'd made none himself.

  Beneath her, he sighed, stroked her back once more, then sat up with her still against him.

  The kitchen light was suddenly harsh, and Zoe was far too naked.

  Ty rose to his feet, jaw tight and eyes sad. He picked up her T-shirt, shook his head at the whipped cream clinging to it and reached for a soft plaid shirt that lay across the back of one of his kitchen chairs.

  "Here." Gentle hands belied the gruffness of his voice as he dressed her, even buttoning the shirt for her. When the backs of his fingers brushed against her skin, she sucked in her breath in response, her nipples hardening yet again.

  A muscle in his cheek twitched at the sight, but he didn't say a word, just handed over her jeans.

  It was a shock to see him standing there completely, gloriously nude. Silly, after what they'd just shared, but she was completely unprepared for the "after," especially when he looked so casual—and magnificent—in the buff.

  She'd known he was perfectly made, she'd spent many covert moments watching his tough, rugged body as he worked outside on the two ranches these past weeks. But without clothes … wow. He was hard, lean, his shoulders broad, his torso long. Her eyes continued downward, then halted abruptly, startled.