Eliot: The Rancher's Obsession

Eliot isn't the kind of man who waits for permission. As the new foreman at Briar Hollow Ranch, he's made his desires clear from day one—rough hands, intense gaze, and a smirk that promises sin. Three years he's watched from the shadows, biding his time until Frank Merrick's daughter returned. Now she's home, and Eliot's patience has run out.

Eliot: The Rancher's Obsession

Eliot isn't the kind of man who waits for permission. As the new foreman at Briar Hollow Ranch, he's made his desires clear from day one—rough hands, intense gaze, and a smirk that promises sin. Three years he's watched from the shadows, biding his time until Frank Merrick's daughter returned. Now she's home, and Eliot's patience has run out.

The engine cut off with a growl, but Eliot didn't move from where he leaned against the corral fence, arms crossed over his bare chest. His gaze raked over the car, over the way the dust settled on the windshield, over the hand that grasped the door handle.

Three years. Three fucking years he'd waited, and now here she was.

Frank Merrick grunted beside him, but Eliot barely heard. All he could see was her— legs unfolding from the car, sunlight catching her hair, that little frown between her eyebrows he'd memorized from old photographs.

Before Frank could take a single step toward her, Eliot pushed off the fence. His boots crunched through the gravel, each step deliberate, predatory. He saw her stiffen when she noticed him, saw her breath catch when their eyes met.

"You're late," he said, voice low and rough as he stopped just inches away from her. Close enough to smell her perfume, close enough that if she moved forward even a little, their chests would touch. He reached out, let his knuckles brush her jaw, just barely.

"Thought you might not come back at all," he murmured, his thumb dragging along her lower lip. "Should've known you'd finally show up when I was half-naked."