by Sybil Bartel
Sitting up without wincing, he took the clothes. “I need to bathe.”
Unable to decipher his mood, I bit my lip. “Well, um, my mama doesn’t know you’re here, and I’m not so sure it’s a good idea to go waltzing into the house and announce your presence on the way to the bathroom so you can shower.”
“How did you get the mud off of me before?”
I cringed sheepishly, remembering how I’d hosed him off like a dog. “I used the hose.”
He lifted his chin once and stood. “That will do.” Testing his weight on his leg, he nodded to himself.
The soreness between my legs pulsed once, and I tried not to stare at all of his glorious nakedness. “It’s cold water,” I warned him. “Really cold.”
“It will be fine.” His gaze met mine. “Do you have soap?”
I tried not to stare at the man who’d taken my virginity, but he was beautiful. His blond hair was messy in a way that was masculine and sexy. His washboard abs looked like he worked out for a living, and his height only emphasized his dominant presence that was leaps and bounds beyond his age.
“Soap?” he asked again when I did not reply.
I blushed hard and awkwardly stood, still feeling the remnants of yesterday. “Mm-hm.” I walked to the old tool bench where I’d put the bottle of shower gel I’d used to clean his wounds after I’d hosed him down. Picking it up, I turned to hand it to him, and he was right there.
“Oh.” I craned my neck to look up at him.
He grasped my chin and studied my eyes. “Do you hurt?”
Chills raced up my spine as butterflies took flight in my stomach. “No, I, um….” Sweet Lord Jesus, he was tall. And his hands were so big and rough, but his touch was so gentle it made my head spin worse than a Ferris wheel. I cleared my throat. “I’m fine.”
“Pain showed on your face when you stood.”
I felt the blush spread across my face and go clear down to my chest. “I’m fine.”
“Did you stop bleeding?”
A lump swelled in my throat, and I remembered every second of him washing me yesterday. No one had ever shown me the kind of concern he was showing me now and yesterday, not even my mama. “Yes,” I whispered.
His finger swept across my cheek. “Are you sore?”
Oh sweet mercy, he was beautiful. “A little,” I admitted.
He dragged his thumb over my bottom lip. “I want to take you again.”
A whirlwind came over me.
Impulsive, desperate, needy, and everything in between, I gave up trying not to touch him and threw my arms around his neck. Standing on tiptoe, I brought my lips to his with the intent to kiss him.
But the second our mouths met, he took control.
He grasped a handful of my hair, wrapped an arm around my lower back, and lifted me up into him. He angled my head as he tilted his, and he thrust his tongue hungrily into my mouth like he’d thrust into me last night.
Desire surged between my legs and curled low in my belly. I fell against his hard body and opened my mouth like I wanted to spread my legs for him.
A low growl crawled up his chest, and he pulled me in tighter. Rough and raw, he kissed me.
And Lord help me, I kissed him back.
He smelled like earth, and he felt like life. His scent rubbed across my skin and sank into my heart in a way I knew I would never forget. He was the Everglades after a summer rain, and his touch was the promise of a new sunrise. He was every wish I never got. And lifting me up, he held me like he was never gonna put me down.
I didn’t just fall for him.
I came home.
Kissing me, holding me rough and hard, he stroked through my mouth one more time, but then he pulled back. His lips wet, his stare intense, he made me shiver as he kept his eyes on me and ran his hands up my legs, pushing my short skirt all the way to my waist.
Goose bumps raced across my skin as desire pooled between my legs.
Keeping his eyes on me, he and pulled my underwear down my legs. His fingers trailed a path back up, but then he dropped to squat and leaned in.
Realizing his intent, I stepped back only to hit the workbench. “No, stop.”
His gaze cut from my nakedness to my eyes, and in a nonverbal way I was quickly becoming accustomed to, he raised an eyebrow to ask me his question.
My knees weak from just looking at him, I covered myself with one hand while I held on to the bench behind me for support. “I’m, um….” Oh, sweet Jesus, no one made me shy like this man. “I bled yesterday,” I blurted.
Still in a squat, his desire standing out from his body hard and proud, he didn’t hesitate. “I know.”
“But….” I trailed off. Surely he didn’t want to put his mouth… there.
“Are you in pain?”
I shook my head.
Slow and gentle, he covered my hand and moved it to my side. His mouth landed on the most private part of my body, and he swirled his tongue.
I let out a long moan, and everything in my life disappeared except him.
I didn’t care about the fight with Mama, or what Daddy had planned for me. I didn’t care about some biker with a stupid name. I didn’t even care that I didn’t know one thing about this stranger with his mouth on me where I’d never let anyone touch, because it just felt right.
He felt right.
Considering where he came from, I probably should’ve been running as far away from him as possible. Except I couldn’t help but think that maybe fate put us right where we were supposed to be and two shitty pasts were meant to come together and make a better future.
Because, oh my Lord, every time he touched me, it felt like a better future was coming.
It felt perfect.
His tongue swirled over and over, making me mad with desire until I started to see stars. But before I could give him my release, he grasped the backs of my thighs. Standing to his full height in one swift movement, he brought my legs all the way up and slid his arms under my knees, effortlessly lifting me. My ass landed on the edge of the tool bench, and his hard length pressed against my entrance.
“Tarquin,” I breathed.
Not speaking, his intense stare saying more than any words, he held me tight as he pushed into me.
Pain and shock and a fullness so perfect it didn’t have a word stole my breath.
He drove all the way into me until I felt him hit my very womb.
My mouth opened, my voice squeaked, and I sucked in a sharp breath as every muscle in my body clenched in defense.
It hurt. It burned. It made tears well.
But then his forehead met mine, he pulled back an inch, and my name whispered across his lips.
“Shaila.”
I lost my heart.
I lost it so bad, I knew I was never getting it back. A tear dripped down my face and my body opened up to let him in.
Slow and measured, he nodded as if he felt the very shift of the earth under my floating feet. Then he brought his mouth to my ear and whispered, “Feel me.”
It was all the warning I got.
He pulled almost all the way out, then slammed into me and ground his hips like he’d swirled his tongue.
I didn’t see stars.
I saw Jesus.
And heaven wasn’t up in the sky. It was here on earth, in the arms of a bruised and beaten man as he plunged into me like God himself told him to.
The sensitive flesh between my legs that Tarquin had sucked now rubbed against his body as his hard length hit a spot so deep inside me that it set off a sensation I couldn’t even describe.
I was flying.
Pleasure, pain, desire, need—it swirled around me and kicked into a flurry of physical sensation and emotion. I wanted to come. I wanted more. I wanted him forever and ever.
“Oh, Tarquin, please,” I begged, gripping the edge of the rough wood workbench and lifting myself up to him for more.
He pounded into me and ground his hips two more times, and I was screami
ng.
His mouth slammed over mine, and his tongue drove into me like his hard length drove into my core. My back fell to the bench from the force of his thrust and kiss, and he drove into me again.
My entire body jerked, and then I was coming.
I pulsed and pulsed, my inner muscles constricting around him as he growled into my mouth. His hard length swelled, and I felt his hot release pump inside me.
Shaking, holding on to him for dear life, I submitted to his kiss and his dominance.
When he stopped pulsing, his thrusts slowed and he pushed into me as far as he could go. Holding himself there, holding me, he slowed the kiss until he gently pulled back from my mouth, but not from me or my body.
His lips an inch from mine, his eyes searched my face. “I am inside you.”
Oh God. So inside me. “Yes,” I whispered, smiling a smile only for him.
His expression intensified. “I will take you as my wife.”
My seed inside her, her smile imprinted on my heart, I would not let her get sold. “I will take you as my wife.”
Her smile dropped and her mouth formed an O. “Wife?”
I nodded once. She said the military gave housing for that. I would be able to give her a roof over her head.
Her already flushed cheeks turned brighter. “Why, Tarquin Scott, are you askin’ me to marry you?”
“No.” I frowned. “I am telling you.”
She let out a small feminine laugh, and her voice pitched higher. “I thought you said you understood women have a right to make their own choices,” she said sweetly.
I stilled. “You do not want to be my wife?” I would take care of her. “I will provide for you.” One way or another.
Her hand landed on my chest and she pushed. “Let me up.”
I grasped her knees and pushed her legs up as I thrust in, before I slowly pulled out.
She sucked in a sharp breath. “Why do you do that?”
I helped her to sit up. “Do what?”
“Push my legs up like that before you leave me.”
I did not like her last two words. “It makes it more comfortable for you, and I am not leaving you.”
She pressed her legs together and averted her gaze. Her voice turned small and sad. “You know what I meant.”
I tipped her chin so I could see her eyes. “Why are you upset?”
She drew her lips into her mouth, then exhaled. “A girl likes to be asked.”
“Asked?”
“If she wants to get married,” she explained in a rush.
I tucked her soft hair behind her ear. “Will you be my wife?”
A shy smile touched her lips before she dropped her head to my chest and put her arms around me. “Oh my stars, Tarquin Scott, you are not a romantic, but I swear my heart already belongs to you.” She laughed quietly and looked up at me. “Yes, I will be your wife.”
For the first time in as long as I could remember, I smiled.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” she whispered. “That’s a sight to behold.” She smiled back at me. “Why, Mr. Scott, you have a beautiful smile.”
My expression sobered. “You are beautiful.”
“Thank you,” she quietly replied, dipping her head again. “I think… I, um….” She gave me a small laugh and crossed her ankles. “I need to clean up.”
My hands on her waist, I lifted her down from the workbench. “Where is the hose?”
She nodded toward the door as she stepped out of her skirt. “Just outside. I’ll get it and bring it in here. There’s a drain in the middle of the floor.”
“I will get it. Stay.” I walked to the door, opened it, and found the hose coiled to the left. Turning on the water, I adjusted the nozzle until the spray stopped, then I scanned the surrounding property for anyone before dragging the hose into the garage. “Does anyone live out here besides you and your mother?”
“Nope, just me and Mama.” She held a bottle of soap up and pointed toward the drain. “That’s where I washed you off before.”
I pulled the hose over and turned the water on. “Where does your father live?”
“Um, your bandages.” She glanced at my body quickly, then looked away.
“I will change them.” I pulled the bandages off. Her crude stitches had held. “Your father?”
“Oh. Yeah.” Her voice turned impatient. “He usually lives in Daytona with his bikers at the MC clubhouse but he has other places.”
“Why do you not live there with him?” I rinsed off. The water was cold, but welcome.
She waved her hand through the air. “Long story. He moved me and Mama out here years ago.”
“Why?” I nodded at the bottle of soap in her hand.
“Oh, sorry.” Not making eye contact, she held it out.
I took her hand and pulled her close to me. She barely came up to my chest. Brushing my lips across her forehead, I took the soap. “Spread your legs.”
Her hand landed on my chest, and she focused her eyes on it. “I can wash myself.”
“I know you can.” I gently let the water run down her bare legs. “But I am going to show you that I will take care of you.”
“Oh,” she whispered.
I dropped to a knee and put soap in my hand. “Your father?” I washed between her legs.
“Yes, um….” Her hands fell to my shoulders, and she spread her legs slightly. “He moved us out here because there was lots of drinkin’ and druggin’ at the clubhouse, and my mama didn’t know when to quit.”
Rubbing my hand between her legs and across her soft flesh, I admired the curve of her hips and the fullness to her thighs. “She was addicted?” I rinsed her off.
“Mm-hmm.” She closed her eyes. “She couldn’t say no to drugs.”
I did not comment about her mother. I stood and handed her the hose. She took it, and I quickly soaped my body and my hair.
She held the hose up. “If you bend down a bit, I can rinse you.”
I bent my knees, and she held the hose over my head like a shower. I rinsed off, then took the hose from her. “Towel?”
Her eyes on my body, she inhaled, then looked up at me. “Hmm?”
I fought a second smile. “I like what I see when I look at you as well.”
“Are we really gettin’ married?” she blurted. “We’re strangers. What if we get to know one another and hate each other?”
Before I had told her I would take her as my wife, I had thought of the same question. I realized that if she were on the compound and I claimed rights, I would know her even less than I did now. There were rules against interacting with the females, and contact was limited to the designated females in the men’s quarters at night. There were no conversations like the ones I had been having with her.
There also would not have been mating before claiming rights.
I also was sure there were no females on the compound who would have dragged a half-dead, unfamiliar male across a swamp and tended to his wounds. She had saved me. It spoke to her character. She was also forthcoming with her feelings and opinions. It was more than a refreshing change from what I had grown up with. I preferred it. She did not make the anger and resentment I carried go away, but she made it seem less important.
And my seed was inside her.
I would not leave her unattended.
Not now.
I cupped her cheek. “You saved my life. You give me honest words. You gave me your virginity, and I am inside you now. I will be a good mate. I will tend to your needs, and my heart desires to see your body grow with my child.”
Her eyes welled and a tear slid down her cheek. “Did you give other women children?”
I was quickly learning I knew next to nothing about navigating life outside River Ranch, but as I stood in front of her, I knew the truth would hurt her.
I did not know for sure if I had fathered any of the children on River Ranch. The probability was there, but there were no children who looked more like me than any other of the blond me
n on compound.
For the first time in my life, I purposely lied. “No.”
She relaxed under my touch. “I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mama.”
“When the time comes, you will be.” She was smart and determined. “You will make a good mother.” As I said the words, a desire I had never imagined a few sunsets ago grew. I wanted her with child, and I wanted to give her and that child a life I had never had. I wanted my own family.
She blushed. “Thank you.”
“You are welcome.”
She inhaled. “Well, we need to get you fed, and you need your antibiotic, and then I need some sleep because I’m due at work in the mornin’.”
“Work?” My expression grew tight. I did not like the idea of her working.
“Mm-hmm. At the gas station down the road.” She reached for a towel and began to dry herself off. “I’m a cashier. It’s not the best job, but they got a pretty good convenience store that’s decently stocked that I’ve been gettin’ supplies at for a year.” She handed me the towel.
“Supplies for what?”
She stepped into a pair jeans she pulled out of her bag. “Remember I told you I was gettin’ out of here?”
I remembered. And I remembered why. My jaw ticked. “Yes.”
“Well, years ago, I was wanderin’ in the Glades west of here, and a few miles out, I found an old abandoned little huntin’ cabin.” She laughed. “Okay, it’s more of a shack. But the roof is solid, there’s a well pump outside, and nobody’s claimed it goin’ on three years, so I took it over.” She smiled with pride. “I’ve been stockin’ it with supplies for the past year. We can live there.”
Thinking, I stepped into my pants.
She frowned. “You’re not sayin’ anything.”
“Which direction is it?”
She pointed behind her, to the west and south. “No one goes out there. Trust me, I’ve been goin’ out there a few times a week for the past year, and about once a month for years before that. No one goes that deep into the Glades.”
