by Lynda Bailey
He settled his mouth over hers. She tasted like sweetened tea and…her. It was a soft kiss. Nothing forceful. She could have pulled away. But didn’t.
Something had caused her to run today. He didn’t know what, but he certainly didn’t want to do repeat anything he might have done to make her skittish. He wanted her in his arms tonight.
Willingly in his arms.
He played his tongue lightly along her lips and her arms circled his neck. Her mouth opened for his entry. His prick, already hard went harder. Her tongue played with his, her hands tunneling through his hair. On a groan, he broke away and rested his forehead against hers.
With supreme effort, he wrestled himself under control otherwise he was gonna take her on Chuck’s serving table. “I’ll make good on my promise, sweetheart. Later.” He heaved a sigh and put her at arm’s length. “For right now, I need to bed my horse then talk with the boys and get relief drovers out to the herd. Everything got pretty muddled with us combing the prairie looking for you.”
Remorse fell into her eyes. “I didn’t mean to cause such trouble. I’m sorry.”
He tapped his finger against her lips. “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. You’re safe and that’s what counts.” He handed over her coat and opened the door for her. “Head up to the house. I’ll be there directly.”
Chapter Eight
Hands shoved in her pockets, Matt trudged to the house. Guilt pecked along her neck like a flock of chickens.
When she’d ridden out of Williamsville, she hadn’t expected Logan to be concerned about her well-being, though a glimmer of joy warmed her chest at the thought of him fretting over her. She pushed open the house door. And she certainly hadn’t expected him to applecart the entire workings of the ranch in order to search for her. She’d make it up to everybody by working extra hard and doing extra chores starting tomorrow. Right after she bought the green fabric and a pattern for her dress and delivered both to Elisabeth. Excitement raised her lips. Her dress. She was actually going to own a dress.
Would Logan like it?
That troubling worry erased her enthusiasm as she set about stoking the fire hotter and brighter. Firelight flickered into all the corners of the rustic, sparse room. Faded curtains, not bright yellow ones, covered the windows while no rug covered the floor boards. And no trinkets stood on the mantel.
This was where she’d been born. Where she had lived her whole life, motherless, with a father who never seemed to like her much, let alone love her.
Chances were Logan didn’t care for her either, yet she couldn’t deny she felt more at home with him in the past few days than she had her entire life with her father. But Logan was most likely just biding his time until he could pay her off and be rid of her. He’d married her to get the Standing T. She needed to remember that. Shaking off her melancholy, she squared her shoulders.
Just because Logan hadn’t wanted to marry her didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy their time together. As long as he didn’t bed her, what was the harm?
Anticipation hummed along her skin. He said he was gonna kiss her all over. She liked the sound of that. Taking a lamp, she went into her bedroom.
The sight of her bed caused her eyelids to sag. It had been a long day of riding back and forth. She’d lie down and rest her eyes. Just for a minute. So she’d be wide wake for when Logan made good on his promise.
~ ~ ~
Banging in the front room jerked Matt from slumber.
Half-asleep, she stumbled from the bed and opened the bedroom door to see Logan muscle in the hip tub. He positioned it by the fireplace. She rubbed a hand across her eyes. “What are you doing?”
His boyish grin tumbled her heart. “Fixin’ you a bath.”
“A bath?” It was then she noticed towels on the table and extra pots of water crowding the fireplace. The heat in the room suffocated her. “Why?”
“Can’t a husband do that for his wife?” he asked. He took a towel and lifted a pot from the hearth. Steam rolled up from where he poured it into the tub.
A bath did sound good. No, it sounded like heaven. She felt grimy from all her riding that day. She shifted as Logan poured more water into the tub. “Where will you be during this bath?”
He busied himself shuffling the empty pots to the side. “I could go back to the bunkhouse. Play cards. Wait until you finished. Or…”
“Or?” The single word snagged in her throat.
He looked at her. The heat in his eyes dwarfed the heat in the room. His gaze roved over her face then down to her breasts. Her nipples peaked. Ached. He then looked lower until staring for long moments at the apex of her legs. Her woman’s center pulsed. Wetness dampened her drawers.
“Or I could stay here. Wash your back,” he answered low, his gaze making a leisurely reverse journey. “And other parts.”
Her lungs stopped working as her knees weakened. She wasn’t so naïve that she didn’t hear the longing in his voice. Didn’t see the harsh need in his eyes. Feel it scamper against her flesh.
She leaned against the door jamb. Awareness tingled her body at what those other parts might be. He came toward her, his expression dark, hungry, his movement slow. It was a predatory prowl that had her leaning further into the jamb because if she didn’t, she’d puddle to the floor.
He stopped within arm’s length of her. “What do you want me to do, Matt?” His rough whisper bushwhacked every nerve ending on her body. “Want me to stay or go?”
Oh, she knew exactly what she wanted him to do, but couldn’t make the words come out of her mouth.
“Say it, or I’m leaving.”
Maybe his highhanded manner should prick her temper. He was, after all, being demanding and bossy. Yet it didn’t. He gave his shoulders a casual hitch and turned. She shoved from the door. “Stay.”
He looked back at her, a knowing smile on his mouth, his eyes two gray pinpoints of lust. “If that’s what you want.” He cupped her cheek and blanketed her mouth with his.
She figured at some point his kiss would stop having the power to careen her world off its axis. At some point, but not now. Now all she knew was Logan.
His touch, his feel, his tongue pillaging, time and time again, like he couldn’t get enough of her. Like she mattered. In answer, she speared her fingers through his hair and held tight as the maelstrom inside her grew.
When they were both breathless, he broke the kiss and set her away from him with a fierce growl. “I need to get more water and you need to get into that tub before it gets cold.” He gathered two empty pots and hustled out the door.
Matt made her legs walk back into her bedroom. She shucked off her shirt, then worked the buttons of her Levi’s. The promise of what was coming made her fingers clumsy. Her heart raced while butterflies flitted in her stomach.
When she was down to just her long johns, she took a small pouch from the top dresser drawer. She pulled gently on the slender ribbon holding it closed and the sweet scent of wildflowers wafted around her. Distant memories of her mother soothed her jumpy nerves.
Taking a healthy pinch on the dried petals, she sprinkled it in the water. She replaced the pouch and quickly finished undressing. She slipped into the warm tub and settled against the rim with a sigh. Calmer, and with a tiny, slightly nervous smile on her lips, she closed her eyes and waited for her husband to return.
~ ~ ~
Logan had never thought much about angels.
Since the start of the Civil War, when his parents had been killed and his home burned by Confederate soldiers, he’d mostly concentrated on surviving.
Yeah, since then, angels had been rare for him. But he stared at one now.
A black-haired, petite beauty.
Matt appeared to be sleeping in the tub. Her legs were drawn up to her chest and her head lolled to one side. Black lashes fanned across her cheeks, pink from the heat in the room.
The tempting swells of her breasts were visible, their darker centers peeking at him from just below the wa
ter line. It felt like a mule had kicked the wind from his lungs. He almost dropped the heavy pots of water. Carefully elbowing the door shut, he set the pots in the hearth and shrugged from his coat with a deep inhale.
Wildflowers.
Bits of flowers floated in the water. Well I’ll be damned.
He stoked the fire to robust flames then picked up a cloth from the table, along with a bar of fancy soap he’d bought at Upton’s Emporium that day. A surprise gift for his wife. One he hoped she liked. He crouched by the tub, wondering how long she’d sleep. He didn’t wonder long as jade eyes gazed back at him.
She said nothing, just stared at him, while he dipped the cloth into the water and lathered the cloth. Gazes locked, he washed a limp hand, working his way slowly up her arm.
Desire sparkled in her eyes. His cock hammered in his Levi’s. Those eyes had the power to bring him to his knees. Good thing he was already on them. The air trembled with tension. He looked away, lest he lose control. And himself.
Finished with her one arm, he worked on the other. “Tell me about the wildflowers in the water.”
She lifted a shoulder and closed her eyes. “Reminds me of my mother.”
Her voice was husky, laced with need. It further tightened his pants. “Oh?”
“She always smelled like wildflowers.”
Logan re-lathered the cloth then straightened her leg and washed each toe, then the sole of her foot. He remembered Gene’s words, that all softness had died with Matt’s mother. “You were four when she passed, right?”
“Hmm.”
The sound was more moan as he massaged the muscles of her lower leg. “Why put dried flowers in your bath water?”
“When I was little, I’d pick all the flowers I could find and keep them in my room. I thought if I had enough flowers, my mother would come back to me.”
A piece of his heart broke off at how lonely she must have been. Surrounded by men who knew nothing of children, and even less about a little girl.
“Obviously the flowers wilted and died,” she continued. “But the scent remained so I kept picking them. Guess it brought me closer to her in a way. When I was thirteen or so, I started putting the dried bits in my bath and basin water. I liked the way my skin smelled when I washed.”
“I do, too.” He stroked the cloth along her other leg, careful to keep his focus on his ministrations and not the dark tangle of inviting curls at the juncture of her legs. He forced his breathing to stay steady, to keep his hands soothing, not demanding. The magnitude of his hunger for Matt coursing through his body scared him. The last thing he wanted was to scare her too.
While he had every intention of feasting his eyes, hands and mouth on her tonight, he knew he needed to go slow. Slower than he had before. Matt might be tough as rawhide, but she was also delicate. Easily wounded.
An abrupt protective wave rolled through him, like thunder across the prairie. He’d kill before allowing her be hurt by anyone. Including himself.
He wanted her pain gone. All her pain. He wanted only to protect her. Hold her. Love her. Emotions crowded his chest. He could scarcely draw a breath. “Sit forward,” he commanded on a choked whisper.
She complied. Her quiet moans as he soaped her back touched a smile to his lips.
“Okay. Sit back.”
It was more a plop which sent the water sloshing. Her eyes were still closed. Logan gently wiped the cloth across her forehead and down her cheeks. She inclined her head from one side to the other to give him access to her neck.
Her pulse thumped erratically just under her jaw. He couldn’t resist the urge to press his lips there. To taste her freshly scented skin.
She gave the most minuscule of jumps before relaxing, a sigh purring in her throat. He eased back onto his haunches before standing. “I’m gonna rinse you now.”
He took a warm pot of water from the cooking hook and carefully poured it over her shoulders and back, making sure not to get her hair too wet. He grabbed a towel. “Okay. Stand.”
Trusting green eyes speared his chest. She gripped the sides of the tub then slowly rose to her feet and stepped from the tub.
Logan’s world tilted. His head swam as though he’d been thrown from his horse.
Lord have mercy.
He knew she was beautiful. But the vision before him was so much more than just beautiful.
Water sluiced down her breasts and her rosy nipples were peaked, straining upward, enticing him. His mouth watered to taste them. To rasp his tongue against them. To savor them.
Her narrow waist, begging for his hands to span it, flared to lush hips. Her pussy curls winked with bath water. Soon other moisture would be there. Her juices, flowing from her as she came again and again.
He reined in his lust. Go slow, his brain ordered. But staring at Matt, at her sexy body, going slow was going to be hard.
Damned hard.
This was the first time he’d truly seen her glorious body. Darkness and his own haste had impeded him before. She stood before him, baring all. Her expression was tentative, yet desire burned in those green eyes.
He wrung the towel with both hands, fighting the primal urge boiling over inside him. “Turn around.” He didn’t recognize the gravelly voice as his own.
She complied and he draped the towel over her shoulders. He placed another one on the rug in front of the hearth before toweling off her skin.
His Levi’s pounded harder as his cock demanded release. He clenched his jaw tight. He would go slow. She deserved that much from him. Done drying her back, he tenderly turned her to face him.
Her breathing was choppy. So was his. Her eyes were big and round. Innocent.
He moved the towel over her breasts, eliciting more throaty moans when it abraded her nipples. He worked lower, across her taunt belly, squatting as he went.
“Spread your legs.”
She did and he dried first one lithe leg then the other. He kept his gaze anywhere but on her sex. The anticipation was killing him.
Finally, he patted the towel lightly between her legs. Her body convulsed and she grasped his shoulders. He looked up, unable to mask the hunger he knew was in his gaze. “I’m gonna kiss you all over, sweetheart. Including right here.”
Hooded eyes stared back. The elegant muscles of her neck fought to swallow. He placed a chaste, open-mouth kiss on her curls then stood and gathered her into his arms. An easy hug, one she responded to without hesitation. She melted against him, her face tipped up. He accepted the invitation, taking her lips in a soft, kissing caress.
His tongue played with hers. Touching and retreating then touching again.
His hands traced the length of her back then came around to mold her breasts. A sigh eased from her. His thumbs outlined her nipples. Flicked the pointed centers. She whimpered. Kissed him with more urgency. Urgency he felt, but refused to bend to.
Effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms, cradling her close to his chest. His heart. He knelt on the floor and laid her out on the cushion of towels, never abandoning her lips, and stretched out beside her. Her hands traveled across his back and shoulders. Her touch scorched him through his shirt.
She tore her mouth away. “I want your shirt off. I want to touch you.”
The raspy edge of need spiking her words had his chambray shirt sailing across the room within seconds. His bare chest blanketed her breasts. The feel of her nipples against his skin nearly broke his resolve to go slow. He wanted to ravage her. Take her body and her soul. Claim her, brand her as his and his alone.
But he couldn’t. If he did, he might lose her.
She had to come to him. Had to be the one to want marital relations. Complete marital relations. His cock in her pussy. Taking his seed. Binding them together. If he coerced her in any way, she’d hate him. Forever.
He wouldn’t risk that. He’d have to settle for tasting and touching her. Doing everything except bedding her until she was ready.
On a frustrated groan, he tore his
mouth from hers to kiss and nip her neck. He reveled in the scent and taste of her skin as he sipped from one shoulder to the other.
She writhed beneath him, her fingers burrowing in his hair, encouraging him to go lower. To her breast. To take a rigid nipple into his mouth.
He did and her fingers tightened in his hair to hold him in place. He licked and laved her nipple before drawing it deep into his mouth. Her back arched off the floor and she twisted toward him in a silent plea for more.
And more he would give.
Logan paid equal homage to her other breast then kissed each rib. He dipped his tongue in her bellybutton as his fingers stroked her pussy curls. Played with them. He kissed her each of her hip bones before settling himself between her legs.
She went stiffer than a rail tie. He looked up across the sensual expanse of her body. She stared back at him, a groove marring the smooth space between her eyebrows.
“I’m scared.”
The whispered words nearly cracked his heart. He didn’t think she’d be scared facing down a charging loco bull. Since he’d married her, she’d claimed—twice—that she was scared.
Logan sidled forward until his cheek rested on her belly. “It’ll be okay, sweetheart.”
Her gaze darted away then back. She said nothing, but uncertainty mingled with the hungry desire in her eyes. She wanted this, he was sure, yet fear of the unknown had her pausing.
He caressed a hand down her arm. “Remember how good it felt to soar through the air over the pond?”
She gave a tiny nod.
“And how it felt with me in the barn and again last night?”
Another nod.
“Hang onto that, sweetheart. Hang onto me.” He intertwined their fingers. “I’ll keep you safe.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
She clutched his hand in a death grip and closed her eyes. He waited for her body to relax, if only slightly, before turning his attention back to her weave of nether hair.
Losing the use of one hand hampered his efforts but didn’t stop them. He brushed back the curls to expose her dewy folds. Her wildflower scent infused his senses. It swamped his brain faster than whiskey, made his shaft even thicker.
