The Texas Rancher's Vow

“He divorce you.”

Jen nodded, stunned to this day by the cruelty of the event. “Yep.”

“And you were hurt.”

She raked a hand through her hair. “Relieved.” She looked into Matt’s eyes, swallowed, and forged on, “I knew by then that the marriage was going to end. I knew it had to end.” She shook her head in regret, wishing she had been stronger. Less needy. “But I didn’t want it to.”

“Because you loved him. Or thought you did.”

“Because I wanted it to be the opposite of my childhood,” she said emotionally. How naive she’d been! “I wanted it all to work out in the end. And in the meantime, I had a roof over my head, food to eat and a place to work on my sculpting. So I just kept going, kept trying, kept thinking that if only I was the perfect wife and the perfect daughter-in-law and the perfect rising artist, everything would work out. That his parents would come to accept me one day.” Jen drew a breath. “And in the meantime, I had Dex, who told me he loved me and that we would be happy when we were both able to make all our dreams come true. Mine was to make a living selling my art. And his was to start his own venture capital business.”

“Did he?”

“Yes. He’s very good at it. And he’s now very rich. His parents are very proud of him. I’m successful now, too. So everyone lived happily ever after.”

“Not quite.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Because you haven’t moved on—emotionally—from the mistake, any more than I’ve moved on from my elopement.”

A laugh bubbled up inside her. “And what would you have us do, Matt?”

“Jump back in.”

Jen shivered, and not from air-conditioning vent above her head. “That’s the best line I’ve ever heard.”

And also the most seductive.

He grinned. “It’s not a line.”

Pulse thudding, she absorbed the sight of him, jaw unshaved, hair tousled, body hard and sweaty beneath the half-open shirt. Her fingers itched to discover the texture of all that sleek, tanned, hair-roughened skin.

And he wanted her, too.

She could see it. Feel it. Completely identify with it.

“Matt…” Jen whispered. Why was he doing this? Making her realize how badly she still needed to belong.

And the way he looked at her whenever they were alone made her think she belonged with him.

He knew it, too….

His eyes were two dark pools. “Take a shower with me.”

Desire washed over her with an intensity she had never felt before.

He brushed a soft kiss to her temple before trailing more kisses across her cheek, her jaw. “Take a risk.” He settled a hand on her hip, dragged his fingers up her spine. “See where this can go.”

Goose bumps erupted on her skin. There was tenderness in his eyes and a smile that promised all sorts of wicked and wonderful things, if only she said the word.

Jen wanted passion in her life. She wanted—needed—to be loved.

What she didn’t want was to be disappointed and have her heart broken again.

And Matt Briscoe had the power to do that.

More than he knew.

She shook her head but couldn’t seem to make herself move away. So instead, she flattened her palms on his chest and closed her eyes. And felt the soft press of his lips on her forehead.

“We’re so different, you and I.” She gazed into his eyes. “I stopped trying to control everything a very long time ago.”

Matt met her gaze in challenge. “And now you try to control nothing.”

“Life is what it is.” She had work, friends, a home. It was enough. More than enough. “I accept that.”

“Then…” tugging her close, Matt held her against him and bent his head to hers “…accept this.”

Chapter Seven

Jen meant to resist, she really did. But she was his for the taking the moment Matt tilted her head and covered her lips with his.

It didn’t matter that she shouldn’t be here, in his bedroom. Inhaling his scent. Feeling his heat. It didn’t matter that she was a sensible woman whose heart was locked up, out of reach. He made a sound of pleasure that went straight through her, and their kiss deepened into an intense, satisfying tangle of lips and tongues. And Jen felt alive in a way she hadn’t in years. She felt on the edge of a kind of contentment she’d never had. And she knew this was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. The kind that likely would not come again.

Matt thrust a thigh between hers. His hand slid down to the small of her back, riveting her in place, and turning the kiss into a full-body experience of raw, sexual power. And darned if she didn’t want to give as good as she was getting.

She let Matt dance her backward toward the bathroom in his suite, kissing her all the while. And once there, she used the heel of her boot to shut the door with a thud.

Matt laughed and drew back to look at her.

“We’re really going to do this.”

“We’re really going to do this,” she whispered, already toeing off her boots.

He pulled his shirt over his head, his smile slow and sure, and so hot it singed every nerve ending in her body.

Her jeans went next.

Then his.

The mutual striptease gave her a thrill that turned her blood to liquid fire. Lower still, a quiver racked her.

He helped her remove her tank top, then her bra and panties. Her nipples tightened. “Beautiful,” he murmured, touching and caressing her, then looking at her with a heavy-lidded gaze that had her wanting to fall into bed with him and never emerge.

She quivered once more, and then was kissing him again. And when kissing wasn’t enough, she worked her fingers beneath the elastic of his sexy black briefs and helped dispense with them. Her eyes followed her hands. Lord, he was big and hard, Jen thought. Every inch of him was buff and hard and male. His eyes were burning with desire.

Lust consumed her, too.