The Rancher's Marriage Pact by Kristi Gold Page B

leaned back against him to savor the sensations.
    â€œFeel good?” he asked, his voice low and grainy.
    â€œYes.”
    When Dallas slid his palm down her belly, Paris held her breath. And when he began to toy with the button on her jeans, she automatically tensed.
    â€œJust tell me to stop and I will.”
    She frankly hoped he kept right on going, but then he suddenly halted everything, much to her disappointment. She opened her eyes and stared at him blankly. “I didn’t say anything.”
    He moved from behind her, rolled down his jeans, put on his boots then stood. “I think that’s enough for tonight.”
    She snatched the discarded shirt and clutched it to her bare breasts. “I don’t understand.”
    â€œPut your shirt on and I’ll walk you to the house.”
    Somewhat miffed, Paris slid the tee over her head, stood and shoved the bra in her back pocket. “I can find my way.”
    â€œAre you mad at me?”
    â€œNo. I’m mad at myself for falling into your trap. Nothing good could ever come of mixing business with pleasure and in reality, this is a business arrangement as you have reminded me several times.”
    â€œBetween two consenting adults who have the hots for each other.” He had the nerve to wink. “Darlin’, a lot of good could come from it, as soon as you realize sometimes you can’t control chemistry. Just let me know when you’re ready to explore all our options.”
    â€œDon’t count on that happening,” she said to Dallas as he strode away, leaving her alone to wonder why she couldn’t resist him. Why she had let him go so far. Why he could so completely splinter her coveted control, and she welcomed it.
    He might have caught her in a moment of weakness, but from that point forward, she vowed to reclaim her power. Call all the shots in this sexual game he seemed determined to play. Turn the tables on him. The time had come to shed her insecurities and prove to him—and to herself—that she could be a strong woman capable of going after what she wanted, wisdom be damned. Business be damned. Fact was, she wanted him.
    Perhaps she hadn’t been born a natural seductress, or acquired any real skills in thirty-two years, but it was never too late to learn. When it came right down to it, celibacy wasn’t the least bit fun.

Six
    C elibacy sucked swamp water.
    Dallas had discovered that recently but learned long ago the lack of merit in a cold shower. He’d taken one anyway at dawn, following one helluva restless night. Afterward, he’d headed to the kitchen, made a strong pot of coffee, a couple of scrambled eggs and ate them at the kitchen island like he did every morning at the cabin. But his normal news catch-up routine had been disrupted by visions of the woman sleeping down the hall. Just the thought of touching Paris again, going further, going all the way, kept him from focusing on the state of the global markets. But he had to remember the annulment terms—no sex in the real sense.
    If he had any hope of maintaining his sanity for the next twelve months, he had two options—take care of the problem himself, or convince Paris they should take care of each other, even if it meant not fully consummating the marriage. He liked the second plan best. Taking it slow seemed to be the only way to accomplish that goal, even though it would damn sure prove to be real hard. Literally. Now if he’d been a dishonorable jerk, he would’ve crawled into bed with her last night to solve the problem, knowing he’d had her exactly where he’d wanted her before he left her on the dock.
    The problem only grew more obvious when Paris padded into the room on bare feet, wearing some short flimsy peach-colored robe, her hair piled on top of her head in a messy ponytail. On one hand, she was about as cute as a newborn foal. On the other, she looked sexy as hell, even with her face