Renegade Love (Rancheros) (20 page)

He moved off her then and she thought he was angry and intended to leave her. She wanted to reach out and stop him, but she didn’t. She didn’t want him to go, but his rough command had her holding her tongue.

She was pleased when he moved to kneel between her legs and nudge them apart. He splayed his fingers through the hair between her legs, his palm settling against her nub to massage it with a friction that had her soft moans turning louder.

He stopped a moment, took firm hold of her backside and raised it so that his thick hardness rubbed against her teasingly, before sliding down to rest between her legs.

And then she saw something change in his eyes. She didn’t know what it was, but she didn’t think her husband was there any longer... the renegade had taken hold of her.

He flipped her over on her stomach, yanked her to her knees and she braced for what was to come.

It never did. She suddenly found herself alone on her hands and knees.

She quickly jumped out of bed and saw that the doors to the patio stood open, the rain pouring down and thunder rolling in the distance. She cast a glance around and saw that his clothes were still where he had left them. And she grew angry.

How could he do this to her? How could he return to her, not say a word, turn her senseless with passion and leave her aching? He had worked her to a point where she had been mindless with the want of him, and she hadn’t cared how he would have taken her as long as he had taken her, made love to her, satisfied this pounding ache between her legs.

Good lord, she had never felt such an aching need in her life. She wanted her husband to finish what he had started. She wanted to explode with pleasure over and over and over.

“Damn him,” she muttered and marched out of the room and into the rain.

She saw him standing naked in the grass just passed the patio, rain pouring down on him. She was so angry that she didn’t stop to think. She marched straight for him.

He turned just before she reached him. “Get back inside now!”

“No,” she shouted and went to smack his finger that pointed at the patio doors.

He grabbed her hand before she could hit him, though surprisingly she was quick and her other hand slapped at his shoulder. His eyes sparked with anger and he shoved her away. “In the house or so help me I’ll take you right here on your hands and knees.”

She was drenched, but her unsatisfied need and love gave her a courage she would have never thought she had. “Why? Can’t you make love any other way?”

His hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her against him so fast that their wet bodies slapped together. “You’re playing with fire,
Rosalita
.”

“I am on fire, Esteban!” She dropped her forehead to his chest. “And only you can put it out.”

The roar that spilled from his lips had her eyes turning wide and her body shivering. And as she went to pull away from him, he scooped her up and had her down on her back in the wet grass before she could take a breath.

He was over her and in her in one swift movement and when she cried out from a brief moment of pain, he stilled and roared an oath to the heavens. Then he began to move inside her slowly, though not for long since Rosa could not keep still herself, and she moved against him.

The rhythm turned fast, as if both of them were starved for each other and they could not get enough. Rosa latched onto his arms that strained with muscles and held tightly as she welcomed the sensation that grew with every thrust.

The rain continued to pour down on them, the thunder rolled, and her moans rolled along with it.

Her fingers dug into his arms and she thought she called out his name, but she couldn’t be sure, and then she threw her head back and cried out as she exploded in a never-ending release.

As soon as Esteban saw his wife in the throes of climax, he exploded himself and it rocked him to the core, shattering him senseless. It was as if he couldn’t stop coming since Rosa was squeezing every last bit out of her climax that she could, making his climax more intense than he had ever experienced.

Finally, he shuddered with the last of it and collapsed over her. He realized then that he had taken his wife out on the grass in a rainstorm, and he silently cursed himself. He got up, scooped her up and carried her into their room. He stood her near the bed, shut the patio doors, and then got towels from the chest and hurried to dry her off.

She surprised him when she grabbed a towel herself and dried him as he dried her. He couldn’t believe her actions when she had, at times, cowered in front of him. But at the moment she attended him with ease and a caring touch. He hadn’t known such a tender touch or such caring comfort in a long time.

“You must sit so I can dry your hair,” she said and pushed him to sit on the bed.

He spread his legs apart and she stepped forward, towel in hand to dry his hair. He couldn’t help but breathe in her scent, the rain not having washed all of it away. Though it was not just her luscious scent, but a combination of them both, and he found himself getting aroused.

How that was possible, he didn’t know. He had come so damn hard that he didn’t think he’d have a need that soon. But it wasn’t only a need he had, it was a desire to bury himself deep in his wife and get lost in her again.

But that could prove dangerous just as it had almost done. He had barely stopped himself before taking her like the men did in Pacquito’s band of renegades. Instead he took her outside in the rain on the grass. Whatever had he been thinking?

Damn, he had been so eager to get home to her that he had failed to shed that side of him that lingered with the renegades. She deserved better than what he had given her. She deserved to be loved and cherished, and he wasn’t capable of giving her that. And yet here she stood seeing to his care.

He wanted so badly to apologize to her, but he wasn’t capable of that either. He had learned, while with Pacquito, that to apologize was a sign of weakness and one suffered for it.

He rested his hands on her hips and eased her closer, pressing his face against her belly, so flat and soft. It struck him then that there was now the possibility of a child growing inside her. He would not make a good father and yet the image of her growing round with his babe filled him with a joy he didn’t think possible.

He hadn’t realized that he was kissing her stomach until he felt her fingers working their way through his hair and massaging his scalp. He loved the scent of her, the scent of them mixed together.

She was his now and would always be, it had been decreed with their joining and he would make certain that no one ever tore them apart. He’d kill anyone who tried.

He lifted her then and laid her down on the bed beside him, his hands staying at her waist. He had been growing hard, but with her lying there, a soft smile on her face as if she waited for him to take her again, he found himself turning as hard as a rock.

“Are you sore?” he asked not wanting to hurt her, but wanting—no aching damn painfully— to bury himself inside her.

“No,” she said so softly he barely heard her.

He leaned down and rested his forehead to hers. “I want you again.”

She skimmed her lips over his and whispered, “And I want you.”

“You’ll tell me if you feel any discomfort,” he ordered.

She nodded, though she knew her need for him outweighed any discomfit she would feel.

He pressed his nose to hers. “I mean it. You will tell me.”

She frowned. “But then you would leave me aching like the last time and,” —her cheeks flushed a light pink—“I could not bear that again.”

He ran a finger over her heated cheeks. “You wanted me that badly?”

She nodded and in another whisper said, “As I do now.”

Take her.

He shut his eyes against the thought. He had been apart from polite society too long. The renegade side of him—the ugly side—forever reared its head.

Flip her over. Show her you own her.

He shook his head.

“I speak the truth. I do want you,” she said.

It took him a moment to realize that she thought he was shaking his head at her remark, not believing her.

“I will hurt you,” he said.
Somehow, some way I will hurt you.
He knew it in his mind and heart.

She pressed her hand to his cheek. “You would never hurt me.”

Her loving touch pushed him over the edge, and he kissed her knowing that it would not stop there. And it didn’t. He once again began his descent over her body, only this time with his lips and with his touch.

Rosa writhed with pleasure, though every time she went to touch him, he pushed her hands away and told her no. She so badly wanted to touch him, needed to touch him, give him the same pleasure as he gave her. In time she hoped it would be so, but for now...

“Please, Esteban,” she found herself pleading and he slipped into her gently.

As before their rhythm turned hungry, and they soon joined in a climax that left them both breathless and exhausted. And they fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

Rosa woke the next morning with a slow stretch, a smile, and a need. She turned expecting to find her husband next to her, but his side of the bed was empty. Her smile turned to a disappointed frown. She had hoped that he would be there so that they could... she grabbed her pillow and buried her burning cheeks in it, recalling her actions last night.

What had made her follow him out into the rain?
Uncontrollable passion
. Her cheeks burned brighter at the thought. There was no denying how much she had wanted her husband to make love to her last night and she had made sure that he did.
The rain slashing down, the wet grass beneath her, his potent hardness, thick and deep inside her.
A heated tingle rippled between her legs from the vivid memories and she grew wet.

Whatever was the matter with her? She had wanted no part of this marriage, but she had unexpectedly fallen in love with her husband, only to discover that she hungered for his touch, his kiss, and the intimacy they brought. A thought struck her then. Last night all that concerned her had been her husband making love to her. She hadn’t given a moment’s thought to where her husband had been or what had happened to him for him to return in such a state.

She sprang up and out of bed and hurried to dress. She had to find her husband and see if he was all right and find out what had happened to him. She slipped into her skirt, blouse, and sandals. She didn’t take the time to braid her hair, though she ran the comb through it quickly, and then hurried off. She heard raised voices as she approached the main living area. She followed the sound of her husband and his father arguing. She thought they came from the dining room, but when she turned the corner she saw that the two men were in the small parlor along with Dona Valerianna.

“Let them think what they want,” Esteban said as she entered the room.

“Do not be so foolish, Esteban,” his father reprimanded. “If the rancheros think that you ride with Pacquito again, they will see you hung.”

Dona Valerianna gasped and when she caught sight of Rosa she shook her head. “Good lord,” she said, her hand going to her chest. “A daughter-in-law who dresses like a peasant when she is a noble and a son who acts like a renegade.”

Esteban turned an angry glare on his mother. “My wife’s roots may be of noble birth but her heart is with her peasant parents who loved her, and do you forget that no nobles around here would have me as a son-in-law? And as far as my acting like a renegade,”—he walked over to his mother and leaned his face close to hers— “I am a renegade. And my wife will dress how she pleases.”

Dona Valerianna gasped again, paled, and reached her hand out to her husband.

Don Alejandro went immediately to her side and took her hand in his as he addressed his son. “Whether you like it or not, you both have positions to uphold.” He turned to Rosa. “Dressing as a peasant will not help your husband, especially now when he needs you to remain strong and by his side.”

“I need no one,” Esteban said with a cold anger that shivered Rosa, and then he stormed out of the room without a word or glance her way.

She didn’t think twice, she followed him. She nearly caught up with him when he suddenly stopped and turned, his arm going out and his hand up.

“Don’t follow me,” he ordered sternly. “Our vows are sealed. It is done. Keep your distance.”

Rosa stood speechless staring at him. She had thought... what? Did she think he cared because he had finally made love to her? No, he hadn’t made love to her. You had to be in love to make love. Wasn’t that why she had enjoyed making love with him so much? She had fallen in love with him. Had he simply consummated their vows? No, she didn’t believe that. She would be like Gaby, persistent, in this case—for her—it would be for the pursuit of the truth.

He turned and walked away. She wanted to shout at him to stop, but she held her tongue. Now was not the time. Besides, they were wed, good and solid now, and nothing could change that. She belonged to him and he belonged to her. She felt a catch to her heart. Just as she had from the very first time she had seen him riding through the center of town. Her heart had gone out to him, for he had seemed as alone as she had felt. No one had wanted him and no one had wanted her. They had wanted each other last night and try as he might he couldn’t deny that, though it seemed as if he tried. She couldn’t help but grin since she doubted that he would keep his distance from her.

“Rosa.”

She wiped the smile from her face as she turned to face Don Alejandro.

He stepped close and kept his voice low. “I know this cannot be easy for you, adjusting to a new life that is so foreign to you. But it is imperative that you act according to your new position, if for no other reason than to help your husband. With the rancheros learning of your noble birth, it may soften their opinion about Esteban. He may dismiss how the rancheros feel about him but it is important, especially with Pacquito showing his presence once again, that the rancheros believe that Esteban is not a threat to them, but is one of them.”