“Holy fucking shit,” says the rumbling voice, and dimly I’m aware of another big man beside him. “That answers the question of who it is.”
“Answers a truckload of questions,” Ranger growls at him before pushing away from the bar. He prowls toward me, my nipples tightening and arousal curling low in my belly with his every stride closer. I’ve never seen him in anything but the Forest Service uniform of a khaki shirt and dark green cargo pants. Now he’s wearing a plain black T-shirt that hugs the massive expanse of his chest, and faded jeans that cling to the thick trunks of his thighs. Heavy boots complete it all but he’s so light on his feet that I can’t hear his steps over the thundering of my heart.
“Hello, Ranger Ranger,” I greet him breathlessly.
“Miss Simmons.” I thought his eyes were dark brown. Almost black. And they are, but now I spot the flecks of gold in his irises, like sparks through a night sky. His smoldering gaze runs from my head to my toes before he comes so close that all I can see is his rugged face looking down at me, all I can feel is the heat of his big body, all I can smell is…him.
Ranger is that strange, exciting smell. Oh, and the beast loves that—no longer wary and confused but unleashing another hot tide of lust within me, need so sharp it steals my breath and makes me ache, ache, ache.
I can’t stop the whimper that escapes my lips. Because I want him. So much. So now.
“Fuck, baby. Look at you. So damn beautiful and so damn hot.” Voice rough and dark as charcoal, he grips the back of my neck—and yes, please, touch me taste me take me. I drop my bag and arch up toward him, fingers clawing at his shirt, but he doesn’t lower his head to kiss me. Instead his words are pitched to soothe as he says, “You and I obviously need to talk. But first we’ll go upstairs and take the edge off, yeah?”
“Yes.” My pulse throbs frantically between my legs. “Let’s go upstairs.”
“You want to meet my brother first?”
I shake my head and he laughs, then bends to sweep up my tote from the floor. Abruptly he stops, his face on level with my stomach, his nostrils flaring. Ravenous intent fills the gaze he lifts to mine.
“You wearing panties under that little dress?” His voice is so low, so gruff, but I hear him.
“No,” I whisper.
His teeth scrape over his bottom lip in the hungry way I’ve dreamed about from the first time I saw him do it. As if he wants to take a taste right here, in front of everyone. To just duck his head under my skirt and slick his tongue through all of the wetness gathering there.
And I’d let him.
Who am I kidding, let him? I’d lift up the hem of my dress and happily ride his beard. So much for my shy little pussy. Suddenly it’s dying to offer up dinner and a show.
My gaze holds Ranger’s as he slowly rises with my bag in hand, inhaling the entire way, as if breathing me in. The long fingers of his free hand tangle with mine, and he pivots toward the corridor connecting the restaurant to the inn. There’s an elevator with a young couple and a pair of preschool-aged kids waiting in front of the doors. Ranger doesn’t say a word as we join them, though I see him looking toward the stairs as if deciding whether that’ll be faster when the indicator dings.
He heads into the corner of the elevator car, pulling me back against his front, wrapping his arm around my waist from behind—probably to save the kids from getting an eyeful of the gigantic bulge pressing into my lower spine. They both look curiously at us, eyes wide, while their parents stare straight ahead, as if afraid to glance our direction.
Or maybe just afraid to glance in Ranger’s direction. He is big. Even in my highest heels, the top of my head barely reaches his shoulder. Behind me, all I feel is dense muscle. The sinewy forearm across my stomach looks twice as thick as mine and hewn from solid oak. I’ve never felt particularly small—I would have described my body type as average—yet I feel tiny next to him. To me, all that strength and his enormous size is an incredible turn on, but I suppose other people find it intimidating.
And he does look mean, his features rough and scowly. Though given the way the kids start giggling and glancing at him before darting their eyes away, then doing it again, I think he might be making silly faces at them.
I don’t look to see if he is. It’s already going to hurt so much when he leaves and I have to let him go. And my heart is already in so much danger. If I fall in love with him…