by Lynda Bailey
The Missourian ducked his head. “Nuthin’.”
“Good. Go get some grub. I’ll take care of your horse.”
Shuffling his feet, Tom left. Matt focused on shoveling hay into stalls, the itching now a shiver of caution.
“You want to tell me what was going on, Matt?”
Logan had retrieved a curry comb from the shelf and was brushing his horse, but his steadfast gaze was nailed to her. She presented him with her back and tried like the dickens not to act ruffled. “Nothing.”
“Didn’t sound like nothing when I came in.”
“I can’t help what it sounded like.”
“Tell me what you and Tom were doing.”
She pivoted around, a hip cocked in a show of confidence she sorely didn’t feel. “What do you care what Tom and I were doing?”
“You’re my wife.” His voice was low, hard. “I won’t have you dallying with another man. You hear me? I won’t have it.”
“You won’t have it?” she scoffed. The pitchfork again pierced the hay stack.
“That’s right. I’m your husband, damn it.”
Another scoff. “You might be my husband, but you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
“Oh, yes, I do.”
She turned her back and tossed the hay into a stall. Out of nowhere, Logan’s hands latched onto the pitchfork handle, plucking it from her grasp. She spun around in time to see the tool sail across the barn then directed her gaze to his face.
The unbridled anger which darkened his expression caught her off guard. Trepidation wove through her middle. She shook off the feeling and shoved past him. “I’ve got work to do.”
But he didn’t budge. The next thing she knew, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into an empty stall. She flailed and fought, but she was no match for his size and strength.
In the corner, he dropped her to her feet, then hooked a boot on a stall slat, pinning her to the wall with his leg. She was trapped and more than a bit unsure of what he intended.
Still she thrust her chin at him. She refused to be bullied. He peeled off a glove with his teeth. When his bare hand cupped her cheek, she jerked away. He held her steady. His calloused thumb traversed lazily across her lower lip.
“Wh—What are you doing?” She hated that her voice shook.
“I never got to properly kiss my bride.”
Though his tone was still low, it lacked the earlier hardness. In fact, the deep timbre rolled over her. Through her. He came closer and she pushed against his chest. He was as immovable as a thousand pound longhorn bull.
He continued the approach, his eyes pewter in color. He smelled like prairie and cowboy, fresh air with a tang of leather. The solid feel of his muscled chest caused her nipples to peak to aching points. The ache traveled down to between her legs where she felt wet. A foreign sensation that scared the hell out of her.
Matt pushed harder and turned her head, but the hand on her cheek wrapped around her neck, further trapping her. Helplessness swelled in her chest. She clenched her jaw to keep the impotent sob locked inside and closed her eyes.
The first touch of his mouth to hers was light, testing. He increased the pressure as his lips moved over hers slow and easy. It was like he wanted her to kiss him back. She pressed her lips together in stubborn refusal.
But when his tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, she couldn’t stop a stunned gasp from escaping. His hot, slick tongue quickly invaded.
Shock rippled through her. Logan’s tongue was in her mouth and she wasn’t disgusted. To the contrary, it felt...good.
Real good.
Her balled fists relaxed and her tense arms went limp. Useless, they dropped to her sides. A groan rumbled through him. His arms encircled her waist and he hauled her tight to his body, knocking off his hat in the process.
She’d often imagined what kissing would be like. What would it feel like to have someone’s lips touch hers? Slimy? Wet? And what happen to the noses? How did you keep them from mashing together? But nothing in her imagination could prepare her for this reality.
Logan’s lips were soft, yet firm. Not at all slimy or wet. And it tasted like he’d just eaten some smoked beef. Curiosity compelled her tongue to touch his for the briefest of moments. It was enough to unleash a feral growl from him. He pulled her even tighter, like he wanted their two bodies to be one. His mouth devoured as his tongue plundered. His hand clamped onto her breast, but a grumble vibrated in his throat.
Before she could react, her shirt opened and he was palming her through her long johns. He tweaked the nipple between his thumb and finger. Something sharp bulleted down to her woman’s center. She got even wetter. Her knees went weak then buckled. He lifted her so she straddled his leg.
She was hot. So hot. Burning up hot like she was sick with fever. In the back of her mind, Matt knew she should be fighting. She shouldn’t allow Logan to do what he was doing. But she was just a rag doll. Floppy, boneless. Unable to do anything except yield to her husband’s wants.
He tore his mouth from hers and tipped her head to expose her neck. His beard stubble scraped her tender skin as he nipped and bit. He moved his knee back and forth, creating a delicious friction at the juncture of her legs.
A friction that grew. It got stronger with each rub of Levi’s against Levi’s. The pit of her stomach quivered. Her skin became too small for her body. Her heart thumped faster than a stampede. Then faster still.
What’s happening to me?
Maybe she was dying. She had to be because these feelings were so strange, so different. Like nothing she’d ever experienced.
From very far away she heard fabric rip. Then cold air stung her breast. An instant later, Logan’s hot mouth covered her nipple. He suckled, drawing her deep into his mouth.
Dear Lord!
She was lost. Tossed into a whirlwind of feelings and emotions. His knee increased the tempo. His tongue curled around her nipple, and pulled. Hard.
Dynamite exploded between her legs. Ricochets shot up to her face. Her hair shivered. Without a doubt her heart was going to fly from her chest.
Logan dropped his leg and gripped her hips in both hands. Frantically, he rubbed his pelvis to hers, his face buried in her neck. Something stiff pressed into her lower belly. Instinct told her it was his manhood. His cock.
“Ah, God, Matt!” His fingers dug into her skin through the denim material as he suddenly went still except for the thrusting. Warmth penetrated the layers of clothing.
Long moments passed with the only sound his harsh breathing in her ear. He pulled away and her legs collapsed. His arms quickly balanced her.
Dazed, she stared at her husband, waiting for an explanation of what had just happened. She needed to know it was all right. That she was all right.
He didn’t even look at her.
When she could stand on her own, he bent to retrieve his hat. He straightened and his gaze fixed on her chest. She looked down. Her breast was exposed.
The center was darker than usual, with red marks, like rabbit tracks, across the skin. She heard him swallow. Then he reached out and pulled her shirt closed. Logan put on his hat and coat and wordlessly left the barn.
Alone and confused, she crumpled to the dirt floor.
~ ~ ~
Logan spent extra time playing cards in the cookhouse. He didn’t want to head up the main house until he was sure Matt was asleep. His behavior in the barn plagued him.
He never should have touched her in anger. He should have been smart enough to walk away. But he hadn’t been.
When he heard her laughter, so carefree and young, a sound he’d never elicited from her himself, something white hot and ugly possessed him. He told himself all he’d wanted was a kiss. His rightful kiss that had been denied him at their wedding. But he’d also wanted to teach her a lesson not to dally with another man. Too bad the only one schooled had been him.
The echo of her mewling cries as she came reverberated in his head. He h
ad come as well. In his Levi’s. And that hadn’t happened since he was fourteen and greener than Matt’s eyes.
The taste of her lips and neck, the feel of her plump breast and pearled nipple fogged his brain. His cock pulsed. He folded with three tens in his hand to Arch. The only thing to do was turn in and pray he didn’t wake up in the morning. Better to be dead than living this hell.
Outside, the cold wind slapped his body, helping to dent his lust. Logan hunched a shoulder and crossed the yard. Maybe he should move back to the bunkhouse, put some distance between himself and his wife. He quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn’t heap shame on Matt. No one would ever learn from him that they weren’t truly man and wife. Only thing for him to do was get through the next three months. Any way he could.
He shoved open the house door and froze. Matt slowly rose to her feet, those glorious green eyes pinning him to thin air.
He recovered by shutting the door harder than he intended then busied himself hanging up his coat. He felt her gaze on him the whole time. His cock stirred to life. He poured the last of the coffee and noticed a half-empty cup in front of Matt. He’d told Chuck earlier they’d be going to town in the morning for supplies.
Left with nothing else to do, he faced her square. If you know the cards in your hand are weak, bluff. And Lord knew Logan was weak when it came to Matt.
“Thought you’d be in bed,” he grumbled.
Her weight shifted. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”
He straddled a chair backwards and rested his forearms on the back. He took a sip and watched her squirm. He hated that she was uncomfortable—that he made her uncomfortable—but he didn’t know what to say. Arching an eyebrow, he waited for her to speak.
She sank into her chair. “It’s about what happened this afternoon.”
He concentrated on taking another gulp of coffee. The memory of their encounter made his prick ache. “Okay.”
Her delicate throat worked up and down. “What happened to me?”
He lifted a shoulder, his mouth pulling into a slight frown. “I kissed you.”
“But more than that happened. What was it?”
He lowered his gaze to the contents of his cup and swished the liquid around. Should have stayed in the damn bunkhouse. “You mean when you came?”
“I didn’t leave.”
He lifted the cup to his mouth. “What?” he asked around the rim before taking a swallow.
“You said I came, but I didn’t leave the barn.”
He sputtered and choked on the liquid, finally catching his breath. He wanted to throw back his head and howl with laughter. One look at Matt’s innocent expression and he wanted to enfold her in his arms. He coughed. “Uh, that’s not what I meant. What I meant was, uh, you experienced, uh, what some would say is, uh...” His voice trailed off. Never before had he been so completely tongue-tied.
“It scared me.”
Her quiet confession hit him low and hard.
“I thought I was gonna die.”
Guilt trampled his chest. “Ah, hell, Matt. I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. What you felt wasn’t bad. It was normal and natural. Something that should happen between a man and his wife.”
“You saying we had marital relations?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes.”
“But you didn’t bed me.”
“No, I didn’t.” And his body would never forgive him as his cock throbbed harder.
She stared at her folded hands on the table.
He wanted to allay her fears. “Look, Matt, you have my word that what happened today won’t happen again.”
That rifled her gaze to him. “It won’t?”
He had to be hearing things. He didn’t just hear the panicked edge of regret in her voice, did he? He leaned closer. “You just said what happened to you scared you.”
“It did. But not in a bad way.”
“What does that mean?”
She tucked her hair behind her ear. “When I was ten, there was a rope tied to that old oak by the pond. The cowhands used to swing on it in the summer then let go when they were over the middle of the pond. On a dare, I climbed that rope and they swung me high, higher than any of them had gone. My heart pounded in my ears and I couldn’t breathe with the air rushing past me. They kept hollering at me to let go. To jump. I was so scared, but I wouldn’t let them see that. I let go and flew through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking for sure I was about to die. I hit the water and when I came up, the only thing I could think about was doing it again.”
Her smoldering emerald eyes arrowed his heart. “That’s pretty much how I felt this afternoon in the barn.”
For the longest time, Logan labored to get words—any words—out of his mouth. He was struck dumb by her admission. In a careful move, he rose to his feet. She followed suit, those eyes of hers never leaving his face.
“Are you saying you want to have more…relations with me?”
She chewed on the corner of her lower lip and nodded. Or maybe he just imagined she nodded. He sidled along the table, moving slow so as not to frighten her. When he stood in front of her, he took her arms with tender hands. Her body trembled beneath his touch, but still she stared into his eyes. “Do you want to have relations with me again, Matt? I need to hear you say so.”
The pink tip of her tongue darted around her lips. A groan lodged in his throat. “Yes,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you to bed me. If you do, we couldn’t get an annulment.”
“True.”
“No bedding, then. Agreed?”
She stuck her hand out and he grasped it. “Agreed.” His blood churned in anticipation.
“We’ll just do what we did today.” Her voice quivered. “Okay?”
He pulled her to him and threaded his fingers through her short, silky hair. His heart did a little jig when she didn’t resist. Her back bowed which pressed her breasts into his chest, her arms at her side.
“We could.” His lips skimmed along her hairline. “But there are other things we can do.”
She tensed. “No bedding. We agreed.”
“Yes, we did.” He nipped her earlobe.
“Wh…what other things?” she asked on a breathy moan as he nuzzled her neck, her body molding to his.
“Oh, things with our fingers. And with our mouths.”
She pulled away with a gasp, her pupils the size of silver dollars. “Your mouth? Down there?”
He cupped the nape of her neck with his palm. “And your mouth. Down there.”
Her gaze flicked downward then raced to meet his. He saw shocked curiosity in her eyes. But he also saw desire. Open and raw. His jeans grew smaller as his cock grew larger.
At this rate he’d spend himself again in his Levi’s before ever touching her. One hand circled her waist while the other picked up an oil lamp from the table. “Want me to show you?”
Chapter Four
Matt walked into her bedroom, her gaze immediately held prisoner by the narrow bed against the far wall. Shadowed by the light from the fireplace in the main room, it looked smaller than usual. Puny.
She’d slept on the same thin tick mattress, with the same washed-out bedding, all her life. It never bothered her. Neither had the scarred dresser nor the chipped washbasin setting on top. But now she wished for a bigger bed and newer, nicer possessions.
The door closed with a soft click and Logan placed the lamp on the dresser. His hands came to rest on her shoulders. She tried not to flinch at his touch.
“You sure about this, Matt?” His hushed voice tickled the hair on her neck.
Was she? She thought she was. Had convinced herself since being in the barn with him that she was. But with Logan in her bedroom, doubt now plagued her. And fear.
His hands squeezed her shoulders, then dropped away. “This is a mistake.”
She spun around so fast, her head glanced a blow to his chin. “No.” His eyebrows arched and she had to look away from the power in his eyes
. “It’s not a mistake. I’m just...”
“Just what?”
She’d rather have her tongue cut out than admit she was uncertain of herself. That she was scared. “I’m, uh, not wearing anything pretty for you.”
A crooked smile tugged at his lips. “That’s okay. You wouldn’t be wearing it for very long anyway.”
He began undoing the buttons of her shirt. She clenched her hands, trying not to balk. After two buttons, his finger traced the line of her jaw. The light touch stung slightly.
“You’ve got beard burn,” he stated, regret in his voice. “I was pretty rough with you today, wasn’t I?”
“I’m not complaining.”
Gray eyes filled with tenderness. “You never do.”
His head dipped and the velvety feel of his lips took the place of his finger. Her eyes fluttered shut and she swayed into his chest. He cupped her cheek with one hand and tilted her head to the side. His other arm snaked around her waist, bringing her closer as his mouth traversed the length of her neck.
Just like in the barn, dampness pooled between her legs and her breasts grew achy. Heat flushed her skin, igniting her from the inside out. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. Tingles rained down her spine. She gripped his shirt front in tight fists.
“You like that?” His hot breath rustled her hair. “Tell me what else you like.”
“I…I don’t know.”
“What did you like in the barn?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Tell me.”
She forced her brain to think. “I liked when you kissed me.”
“Like this?”
He seized her lips in a domineering kiss. His hungry mouth and probing tongue robbed her of what little thought process she had left.
He lifted up a fraction. “Damn it. Kiss me back.”
Frustration sparked tears to her eyes. “I don’t know how.”
“Sure you do. Just do what I’m doing. Use your tongue. Your teeth.”
She mimicked his actions, outlining his lips with her tongue before drawing his bottom lip into her mouth.
