Zoya Hart has been eluding her gold-digging stepmother for the last few years. Knowing that this woman will do anything to gain control of her and her late father's company, Zoya finds herself hiding out on a farm. Now, with a PI on her trail, Zoya'...
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For the first time in a while, Roman woke with a smile on his face. Last night all his bullshit about cuddling had been blown to hell when he'd wanted Zoya pinned right next to him. He loved feeling the rhythm of her breathing against his chest. More than that, he loved how she begged. And she had. Three... no, four times throughout the night. A record for him. And every time was better than the last. He was getting hard just thinking about it.
Barn. Hay. Storm. First time he'd had that combination. Hell, screenwriters couldn't have written a more perfect scene. A few stalls over, she hummed as she worked. The sounds of a satisfied lover. And she had been, multiple times.
Today, she'd come home with him and forget all about leaving. And she understood the arrangement. Just sex. No strings. No promises. Someday, she'd find Mr. Right and forget all about him. He knew better than to think a girl like her would ever end up with a guy like him.
He rolled over and looked around for his clothes, then chuckled. There they were neatly folded and stacked. He got dressed and went to join her. Busy with the goats, she didn't notice him, so he cleared his throat.
"Need some help?"
She turned to face him. All bright eyed and glowing. Damn if she hadn't gotten more beautiful overnight. "Do you know how to milk goats?"
"Never done it, but how hard can it be? All I do is wrap my fingers around a teat and squeeze, right?"
She took her bottom lip between her teeth. "You even make that sound nasty."
He whispered a laugh. "Not my intention, but I can see it got you going." He raised his brows as he zeroed in on the front of her tee-shirt, where her nipples stood at attention.
Crossing her arms, she covered both breasts with her hands. "You're terrible."
In two shorts strides, he had her in his arms. "That's not what you said last night. I remember you telling me how good I was. A lot."
She looked up at him. "You were good. A lot."
"I want to kiss you."
"Okay."
"Haven't brushed my teeth."
"One little kiss probably won't hurt."
[Mild Mature Themes]
She tiptoed to reach his mouth and kissed him like she meant it. Then her hands were everywhere. Under his shirt. At the top of his jeans. Lowering his zipper. And when she slipped her hand inside his boxers and wrapped her fingers around his erection, he groaned. God help him. She was going to kill him.
He abandoned her mouth, trailed his lips to her breast, and tortured the nipple through the thin fabric. He'd never wanted any woman the way he wanted her, and that was wrong. But with her wrapped around him, he couldn't wrap his brain around logic.
