His Perfect Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch - Spicy Version Book 1)

by Merry Farmer

  They regarded each other in charged silence for a moment before Franklin cleared his throat and said, “I figure we can take turns.” He unfolded the screen all the way. “You go first and I’ll wait on the sofa, then I’ll wash.”

  Twin feelings of excitement and disappointment flooded Corva from both sides, leaving her stunned and shy. Was she wrong about the energy pulsing between them? She marched up to the tub and emptied the boiling water. Maybe she had imagined the hunger in his eyes on the wagon ride home, was imagining it now. She knew so little about intimacies between men and women that she could be getting it all wrong.

  “I suppose everyone in town will know who I am now,” she made conversation to hide her uncertainty, returning to the kitchen to get the other pot and kettle of boiling water. She didn’t want to be wrong about the shift in their relationship.

  Franklin chuckled. “No doubt.”

  He had already removed his jacket and laid it over the arm of the sofa as she carried the pot and kettle to the tub, and now sat, removing his braces. Corva was sorely tempted to watch him peel them off completely, but if she wanted a bath that was even a little warm, she needed to boil more water.

  “I take it that sort of thing doesn’t usually happen in baseball games.” She carried the pot and kettle back to the kitchen to refill and reheat.

  “I should say not,” Franklin laughed.

  The instinct to read volumes into that comment had Corva clenching her jaw in frustration with herself. Why was it so easy to believe people thought the worst of her and so hard to accept compliments when they came?

  “The best part is that the Bears lost,” Franklin continued, shuffling something in the other room. “That ought to keep Bonneville quiet for a while.”

  “It won’t make him twice as mad about the calves?” She dipped her fingers in the water to test how fast it was heating, then crossed to the doorway to wait.

  Her heart stopped beating and a shiver passed through her at the sight of Franklin standing in front of the sofa, facing to the side, with his shirt and shoes off. He’d removed the braces from his legs too, and stood there in nothing but his trousers. Aside from those trousers being crumpled where the braces had been buckled, he looked every bit a whole, fit man.

  “Possibly,” he went on, not seeing her watching him. “But it’s just as likely he’ll lay low for a while to avoid any sort of talk with his name in it.”

  He turned to face her. Their eyes met. Swirls of warmth of a sort she’d never felt before pulsed through her. It was too complex to call admiration. All Corva knew was that she wanted to keep looking and looking at her husband, and more. The look was in his eyes too, growing fiercer by the moment.

  “Sorry.” He twisted as if he might reach for something to cover himself, but without his braces, he wobbled dangerously and had to hold still to regain his balance. Once he had, he lifted his arms in a helpless gesture. “I hope you don’t mind. We are married, after all.”

  “I don’t mind.” Her voice came out in a rough squeak. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him—the lean lines of his torso, the broadness of his shoulders, the dusting of dark hair that converged into a line below his navel and ran down to his waistband. The contours below his waistband.

  She was saved by the bubble of boiling water on the stove behind her, and whipped around, rushing to the stove. Her cheeks were far hotter than the kettle and pots, and so were other parts of her. The ache and pull inside of her was both exciting and nerve-wracking. Was she supposed to feel that way at the sight of a man’s chest? The blessedly few times she’d caught her uncle in a state of undress had inspired revulsion, not this…yearning.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she whispered to herself, grabbing the larger pot from the stove.

  When she returned to the main room to pour the water into the tub, Franklin had moved to a cupboard at the side of the room and was searching through cakes of soap, towels draped over his bare arm. Heaven help her, but his back looked as good as his front, not to mention his backside. She rushed back into the kitchen to fetch the rest of the water before her thoughts drifted any further.

  By the time she poured out the last of the boiled water and returned the empty vessels to the kitchen, the main room was far hotter than she remembered.

  “I’ve set the towels and soap on a stool by the tub,” Franklin said as he walked carefully to the sofa on the other side of the screen from the tub. “There’s a washcloth for you draped over the side of the tub. Don’t worry about getting dirt on the floor as you undress. We can clean that up later. Do you need help with buttons?”

  A hitch caught in Corva’s chest. She had done up the buttons herself, so she could undo them too, but that nervous, excited part of her nodded and stepped forward. Her heart raced a mile a minute as she reached him, then turned her back to him.

  His fingers brushed the back of her neck as he undid the top button of her high collar, and a bolt of electricity zipped through her. “How accomplished of a seamstress are you?”

  “Hmm?” His feather-light touch as he worked on her buttons was too much of a distraction for her to form a real answer, or comprehend what he’d asked. His warm, throaty chuckle that followed didn’t help her focus at all.

  “I don’t know much about women’s dresses, but this one looks like it’s had it.” His hands reached the curve of her spine between her shoulder blades. “You can try to repair it if you want, but I’m more than happy to buy you a whole closet full of new clothes. That’s actually something I’ve wanted to talk to you about.”

  “Oh?” The single word came out as a shaky trill.

  He paused as he reached the top of her chemise. For a moment, even the air stood still. He leaned closer to her. Corva could feel his heat, feel the whisper of his breath against her neck. His hands continued down, undoing buttons, slower, as if savoring each one.

  “I’m your husband.” His voice was heavy with promise, the words tickling against her skin with such intensity that she tensed. “I’ll give you anything you want, all you have to do is ask.”

  Her dress sagged loose around her as he finished with the buttons at her waist. She gasped, rippling with longing, as he slid his hands around her waist to her stomach against the stays of her corset. His lips brushed the side of her neck, sending a flash of fire through her. She’d seen firsthand the power that fire could have, but never had she imagined that she would want to surrender herself to it.

  He moved one hand away from her waist, brushing up her side, then pushing her dress off her shoulder and down her arm. His lips followed, tracing a line from her neck to the top of her arm. Each gentle kiss filled her with more and more of a sense of need. She needed him in far more ways than as her protector and provider.

  She let him slide her sleeves down her arms one at a time, then with a tenderness that left her trembling, pushed her dress and petticoat over her hips. They spilled like a puddle to the floor. His bare arms circled around her, the heat of his skin raising gooseflesh on hers. He spread a hand over her stomach, easing her back against him, while his other hand rested on her hip with a heady mixture of reassurance and possession.

  “Sh-shouldn’t we bathe?” Corva winced as soon as the words were out. Her heart didn’t want to stop this beautiful, new exploration, it wanted to run headlong into it.

  “You’re right,” Franklin murmured against her ear. “We should.”

  The dark timbre of his voice sent another wave of trembling through her. It was only just settling and spreading through her when he inched back and twisted her to face him. Her split-second of disappointment blossomed to a physical ache at the sight of his eyes, glowing with heat and need and things she couldn’t begin to put a name to. He leaned toward her, and for a glorious moment, she thought he would kiss her. At the last second, he stopped himself, lowering his eyes.

  He took her hand, steadying her as she stepped out of the pool of her discarded clothes, then led her around to the other side of the s
creen. The fire in the fireplace crackled merrily, and a faint wisp of steam rose from the fragrant water in the tub.

  “We’re not both going to fit,” she whispered, heart fluttering.

  “No, we’re not,” he agreed. It didn’t seem to bother him. He reached for her waist, pressing her corset to unhook the front inch by inch.

  Corva’s head spun with desire as he freed her, tossing her corset aside. He brushed her waist with both hands, and just when she thought she might turn liquid with expectation, he slipped his hands under the worn cotton of her chemise and lifted it up. She was so startled by the sudden gesture that she raised her arms, letting him pull the garment up over her head. That left her standing in front of him in nothing but her drawers.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. He leaned toward her, brushing her lips with his as his hands searched for the tie of her drawers.

  One tug and a push, and she was standing before him naked. He swayed back to look at her. No one, no man, had ever stood gazing at her naked body. She fought the urge to cover herself, her breath catching in her throat as she realized she would much rather have him cover her instead. She wanted to feel his hands on her body in all of those special places reserved for a husband.

  Instead, he bent carefully to the side, taking up a washcloth and dipping it in the warm water. When he straightened, he brought the washcloth to her shoulder and squeezed. Tendrils of water slithered along her overheated skin, running in rivulets around her breast, down her back, reaching the curve of her belly and disappearing into the curls between her legs. She gasped, and Franklin sucked in a breath, the heat in his eyes flaring as he followed the trails of water down her body. He stooped again, unsteady, to wet the cloth, then squeezed water over her other shoulder. It tickled across her skin, causing prickles and aches. Her breasts grew heavy, her nipples tightening. The pressure between her thighs was almost unbearable.

  “Franklin,” she whispered, unsure if it was a plea or a prayer.

  “I could look at you like this all day,” he murmured, his eyes devouring her. “You’re perfect.” He dropped the washcloth, sliding his hands over her wet hips and up her sides to cup her breasts. She watched the path he traced, noting the bulge that had formed in his trousers. It made her knees weak and the ache between her thighs flare. “But I don’t know how much longer I can stand.”

  She caught her breath when he lowered his eyes. His hands remained on her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples. “We could…” She swallowed, licked her lips. “We could go to your bed.”

  His eyes flickered up to meet hers, shining with desire. “We could.”

  Still, he didn’t move. “I…I want to.”

  That sealed it. He surged into her, mouth meeting hers in a kiss that seared her to her soul. Too many new, wonderful sensations struck her at once—the play of his tongue against hers, the press of her breasts against his bare chest, the pressure of that hard part of him against her hip. She wanted all of it at once, and she wanted to experience each part on its own. He brushed a hand down over the small of her back, caressing her backside and teasing his fingertips along the cleft to the point where she let out a sound of pleasure she hadn’t known she could make.

  Franklin swayed into motion. It was difficult for him to move fast without his braces, but with Corva helping, they shifted into the bedroom, rolling onto Franklin’s bed. He stretched himself over her as she lay on her back at first, kissing her lips, her jaw, and her neck, while his hand teased her breast to the point where she hummed with pleasure. But when he reached for the waist of his pants, his coordination faltered and he dropped to her side, blowing out a frustrated breath.

  “Let me,” she whispered, fighting to hold onto her confidence.

  Franklin relaxed onto his back, and she lifted to her knees beside him. Her heart thundered in her chest. She’d never even dreamed of undressing a man before. Her hands shook as she unclasped the fastening of his trousers. She licked her lips as she pushed them open and pulled at the ties of his undershorts. When everything was loose around his hips, she gathered her courage and drew them down.

  Franklin gasped as the stiff, strange part of himself burst free. Corva blinked, a shiver sliding down her back and swirling through her core, as it sprung up, laying against his abdomen. His shaft was flushed and thick and as long as her hand. The tip flared and glistened with moisture. A flash of fear cut through her, but just as quickly it was overpowered by curiosity, the need to touch, and the desire to know what it meant and what it could do. She tugged Franklin’s trousers down his legs, so eager that she almost didn’t see.

  One flickering glance to his thighs and calves as she pulled his trousers all the way off, and Corva froze, her heart breaking. Franklin’s legs were a scarred mass of crisscrossing lines. His muscles tensed beneath his damaged skin, creating uneven plains and curves, as if they had healed wrong over bones that no longer ran the way they were supposed to. One of his knees wasn’t where it should have been, and the ridges of his shins were broken and scarred. Bruises peppered his flesh where his braces must have pinched.

  “Oh, Franklin,” she whispered. It was a wonder he could walk at all.

  Franklin cleared his throat and propped himself on his elbows. “Please don’t look,” he said, voice filled with a decade of regret. “Please don’t—”

  He sucked in a breath as she stroked from his calf to his thigh.

  Corva flinched back. “Does that hurt?”

  He shook his head, and, if Corva wasn’t seeing things, his staff twitched. “No one has touched my legs since—”

  She dared herself to run her fingers from his calf to his thigh again. He let out a low growl and lowered himself to his back, closing his eyes. Corva repeated the touch, exploring further, and eliciting the most exciting sounds from him. Her body warmed and came alive again at the suggestion that she was giving him pleasure.

  She ventured higher with her strokes, biting her lip as she caressed the tight sack beneath his shaft, then brushed her shaking fingers up his length. Franklin gasped, his eyes flying open. He jolted into action, capturing her and drawing her up alongside him, then twisting so that she was on her back with him above her before she could catch her breath.

  “What?” She panicked. “Did I do something wrong?”

  “No.” He nestled between her legs, prompting her to spread her hips so that he fit more closely. “It’s only that I’m too aroused already, and once a man reaches a certain point, he can spill his seed before he’s ready.”

  Corva opened her mouth to ask a hundred questions in one, but Franklin silenced her with a kiss. She sighed as their lips met, their tongues touched. Their bodies seemed made to slide together. Her skin was still damp, but whether from the bathwater or sweat she was no longer sure. All she knew was that it was bliss itself to press into him, flesh meeting flesh, and to circle her arms around him. No one had ever told her what to expect from her husband in bed, but her body knew at least part of what it wanted. She opened her hips more and more on instinct alone as Franklin ground against her.

  His hand reached between them, caressing her thigh and pushing it wider. It felt so wonderful, so right, that she hummed in response, pressing her fingertips into his back. When his fingers delved between her legs, she sighed and arched toward his touch. He brushed across a part of her that flared with pleasure more intense than anything she’d ever felt, and she bucked and cried out.

  “Good,” he whispered against her neck, and continued to circle around that spot.

  Corva closed her eyes and tilted her head back, pressing into his hand as he stroked pure joy through her. Their bodies were so close, so many parts of them touching. He nipped at her neck, his teeth a revelation. But more and more of her focus was on the ache between her hips that pitched higher and tighter and stronger until something within her burst into a flood of pulsing pleasure.

  She was still riding high on the waves of that pleasure when he shifted above her and thru
st. Her eyes flew wide as an impossible fullness joined the softening waves of pleasure within her. Was there a twinge of pain? She couldn’t tell through the rightness of it. Franklin groaned deep in his chest, and she felt that stretching, hot fullness thrust again and again and again. The waves of pleasure that had ridden themselves out pitched again, and she found herself crying out with each of his thrusts.

  All at once, he sighed above her, then slowly, gradually, his rocking thrusts drained of power as he came to rest on top of her. For a brief, perfect moment, he rested his full weight on her. It was crushing, but there was something beautiful in it. She was all his, inside of her and around her.

  At last, breath shaky, Franklin withdrew and rolled to the side. He reached for her, drawing her close and positioning her against him, in spite of the intense heat that still flared between them. To Corva, it felt perfect. Her body was limp and stretched in the most amazing ways, but it was her heart that felt the deepest change. She may have been a bride before, but now she was a wife.

  Franklin awoke bright and early the next morning to a sensation he hadn’t felt in years—contentment. Yes, his legs ached a little, he had a full day of ranch work ahead of him, and chances were that Bonneville would cause some sort of trouble. But he was warm and relaxed in bed, and he held his sleeping wife in his arms.

  Corva fit so perfectly against him. He smiled and planted a soft kiss on her shoulder at the memory of all they’d shared the night before, careful not to wake her. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about what it would be like to take her to bed, but the reality of the two of them together was a thousand times more precious than anything he had imagined. Most importantly of all, she had seen his legs, seen the scars and the bruises, and wanted him anyhow.

  He slipped out of bed as silently as he could, checking constantly to be sure he didn’t disturb Corva. He was always a little unsteady in the morning, but as he crept around the bed, grabbed clean clothes, and snuck out into the main room, using the rails built into the wall to stay upright, it was as if his heart gave him wings.