Free The Rancher's Untamed Heart by Nicole Jordan

asked.
     
    "God, yes," I said. I squirmed against him, my hands roaming over his body, which was almost firmer than I could have imagined. Every muscle was defined, and I traced them with little sweeps of my fingers. He wasn't just lean and strong, I discovered. He had to work half-naked most of the year, he didn't have the farmer's tan that I half-expected to find under his clothing.
     
    I was so lucky. Clint was over six feet of bronzed perfection, and he was exploring my body with fascination and delight.
     
    My need for him was reaching a fever pitch, and I reached down between our bodies to find his belt, and started working on the supple leather to get him naked.
     
    He reacted as though I'd poured cold water over him, climbing off of me, breathing heavily, and shutting his eyes.
     
    "Too far," he muttered.
     
    "What?" I asked, sitting up on his couch, naked from the waist up.
     
    He headed back to the kitchen without a word.
     
    I sat still and quiet, confused and hurt. No longer comfortable, I crossed my arms over my chest.
     
    "What the hell?" I asked, as he came back, carrying our discarded clothing.
     
    He passed me my shirt and bra and sat down on the other end of the couch, looking sheepish as he started to get dressed again.
     
    "I'm sorry," he said, "That wasn't fair to you. I've never lost control of myself like that before."
     
    "What the hell?" I repeated.
     
    My fingers shook as I put my bra and shirt back on and pulled a pillow into my lap, holding it tightly and glaring at Clint. I'd thought we were having fun!
     
    "I'm messing all this up," he said, plainly. Dressed again, he turned on the couch to lean his back against the arm and stick his feet up on the seat.
     
    "Look, Naomi," he said, arms loose at his side, "I meant to talk to you, I didn't mean to, uh, lose control like that."
     
    I seriously considered just saying "What the hell?" again.
     
    "Okay..." I said, instead, "What did you want to talk about?"
     
    "You and I are clearly very attracted to each other," he said, and I laughed.
     
    "That's an understatement," I said.
     
    He grinned, and relaxed just a little, the lines of his back unclenching.
     
    "I don't want to just sleep with you," he said, plainly, "I've never been interested in casual sex. I want to get to know you. You seem like a nice, hard-working, interesting girl."
     
    "If you want to get to know me," I said, "I think you actually have to talk to me."
     
    He grinned.
     
    "Not my best skill, is it?" he asked.
     
    "I wouldn't call it stellar," I admitted.
     
    "Well, I don't talk to many people who aren't my hands any more," he said.
     
    "What about Brandon?" I asked.
     
    "It's easier to talk with a bottle in front of me," he said, a little sheepishly, "Or with someone I've known as long as Brandon."
     
    I rolled my eyes.
     
    "Are you trying to be a walking stereotype?" I demanded. "It's okay to talk without getting drunk."
     
    "Hey, what am I doing now?" he asked.
     
    "Talking, sort of," I admitted.
     
    "That's right," he said, "I'm sort of talking here."
     
    I smiled, despite myself. He may be a grumpy tease, but I liked the way Clint talked.
     
    "So, what now?" I asked, "Did you have a plan?"
     
    "Nope," he admitted, "I just wanted to get a chance to talk to you, get to know you a little better."
     
    "We could actually go on a date," I suggested, "Something that doesn't involve sheep or nudity."
     
    "Hey, now you're talking," he said. He stood up and peered at a clock on the kitchen wall. "It's not long after six, we could get in town in time for dinner, and then I could take you home," he said.
     
    "How would I get my car back?" I asked.
     
    He shrugged.
     
    "I could come back and pick you up tomorrow," he said, "Once I'd done the chores around here."
     
    "That actually sounds pretty nice," I admitted.
     
    "Okay, you'll let me take you out?" he asked.
     
    I nodded, and he picked up my purse and held it out to me.
     
    Apparently, we were