‘No. That’s not what I’m doing. Forgive me, Rose, but I thought you wanted to work on my ranch. Clearly, I was wrong.’
‘I did—I do.’
Rose clutched her head as if that were the way to shake an answer into it. He longed to take her in his arms, to offer her comfort, but he knew that would only make things worse. ‘Go take your shower,’ he said instead. ‘Don’t rush. I’ll still be here when you come down.’
It took Rose a good minute to regain her composure, then, firming her jaw, she nodded in agreement. She was on her way across the room to the staircase, leading to what he guessed would be spotlessly clean but basic facilities, when she caught her foot on the edge of a rug. Launching himself across the kitchen, he snatched her into his arms before she hit the ground. Steadying her on her feet, he gave her a chance to recover from the shock.
‘Thank you.’
Her voice was shaking, and he flinched inwardly to see Rose so utterly at a loss. ‘There’s no need to thank me. I’m here for you.’
‘Are you?’
She searched his eyes in a way that took hold of his stone-cold heart and fired it into life. Feelings they had both fought so hard to subdue suddenly overwhelmed them, and they crashed together with longing and urgency. But this was Rose. He shouldn’t have been surprised when she pulled back.
Raking her hair away from her flushed face, she said calmly, ‘Welcome to Ireland, Raffa. I hope you find everything you’re looking for here.’
‘I have,’ he gritted out.
Cupping her face, he drove his mouth down on hers. When he pulled back, the look that blazed between them had nothing to do with employer and employee—or whether or not he was interested in buying property in Ireland. It was primal and deep, and easily eclipsed his desire to plant a stake in Rose’s beautiful homeland. ‘You taste of mud,’ he commented wryly when they paused for breath.
‘And you taste of everything I should avoid,’ Rose fired back.
‘You don’t want to avoid me, or why are you here?’
‘Because this is my home?’
But Raffa was right. This might be the most misguided thing she’d ever done, but who was going to stop them? Life was measured in moments, some good, some bad, and Rose had learned to grab the good ones and hold on tight. Practical problems could wait. She didn’t want tender or teasing. She wanted hot, hard and now, the type of sex that blotted out everything in an explosion of furious passion.
Bodies collided as they cleaved to each other again. Hooking one leg around hers, Raffa thrust her back on top of the kitchen table. Moving between her legs, he undressed her with his usual efficiency. Unfastening his zipper, he used one arm to pillow her head, while his black eyes blazed a promise into hers. That promise of forgetfulness and oblivion was enough for Rose to cry out and claim it right away. Swept into a vortex of pleasure, she rejoiced to be lost. This was appetite pure and simple.
Consumed by arousal, the decision had moved out of their hands. Rose’s senses took the lead, while Raffa’s experience proved the route map. Even when she begged him for release, he knew how big he was and how carefully he must proceed. That wouldn’t do for Rose, not when her heart, soul and body were so utterly his. Grabbing his biceps, she groaned her approval in response to the silky pass of something warm and smooth between her legs. Closing her eyes to concentrate on sensation, she exhaled on a shaking breath when he made a second pass, allowing the tip to catch inside her.
‘Again?’ he suggested.
‘And again,’ she agreed, plunging into an abyss of pleasure that left her gasping for breath as he finally took her to the hilt.
One powerful release could never be enough—not when every inch of Rose was tuned to Raffa’s frequency.‘Yes!’she breathed out again, moving fiercely with him.
Sweeping everything off the kitchen table, he lifted her legs and wrapped them around his waist so he could move more freely, and with even greater force. The vibrations rocked the table halfway across the room, while Rose exclaimed rhythmically with pleasure each time he dealt her a firm, effective stroke. Even the sounds they made were arousing, as was the sight of Raffa staring down at her, clearly enjoying himself. ‘Don’t stop!’ she warned. ‘Don’t—’ He didn’t give her a chance to finish before upping the tempo, which drove her straight over the edge.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked as she dragged in some noisy breaths. Cupping her chin, he stared into her eyes. ‘Rose... I didn’t hurt you, did I?’
‘Hurt me?’ His question touched her. Reaching up, she rasped the palm of her hand against his stubble-roughened cheek. ‘Of course you didn’t hurt me. That was...amazing.’
‘Watch the flattery,’ he warned with a smile.
She loved the look between them that said they understood each other again. The problems hadn’t gone away, but nothing could get in the way of these precious moments.
‘Your face is smeared with mud,’ she observed, smiling into his eyes.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment, as yours is too. Is it time for that shower now?’
‘Could be,’ Rose agreed, grinning as Raffa swung her into his arms. ‘It won’t be the type of facility you’re used to,’ she warned as he jogged up the stairs.
‘Running water’s all we need.’
Apart from each other, she thought.
