A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel

by Carol Burnside

  She didn’t bother with a weak protest they both knew he’d ignore. Instead she clung to the broad shoulders that had borne more than their share of hurt in someone of Sam’s age.

  And here he was, taking care of her.

  Rosie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fighting back hot tears that would demand answers she couldn’t stand to give. Bringing pity she didn’t want or need. Not from him.

  “Can you get the door?” His warm breath blew loose strands of hair against her neck, leaving trails of fire where they touched her overly sensitive skin.

  No one had ever made her feel so . . . cherished. She found it impossible to speak around the lump in her throat and opted for a hard shove against the door. It shut with a satisfying click. Sam turned toward the house. With her opening doors, he carried her across the porch, through his kitchen and into his living area where a lamp bathed the room in a soft glow. He sank into the deep cushions of his couch, settled her across his lap and began to unbraid her hair.

  The action was soothing, seductive. Rosie fought to keep from leaning into him. “Um . . . where’s Lorelei?”

  “Asleep.” Inch by excruciating inch, he combed through the strands with his fingers, increasing her pulse rate and easing her stress at the same time.

  How did he do that?

  A thousand questions swirled in her brain about the why and how of this moment, but she had neither the energy nor inclination to voice them. Especially when his fingers reached her scalp. They performed miraculous, massaging circles, and she relaxed against him. At this moment she was exactly where she wanted to be. Closing her eyes, she succumbed to the delicious sensations. When a moan of pure pleasure escaped her throat, his hands stilled.

  Slowly, she opened her eyes. Sam’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Evidence of his desire pressed against her left thigh.

  What now? A million possibilities swam through the mud that was her brain tonight, but only one stuck like glue.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “I need a shower,” Rosie said. “Preferably hot and lengthy.”

  Sam’s eyebrows rose slightly at her unexpected announcement. A staring contest ensued. A question unasked. No answers given. Pulses throbbed. Chests rose and fell.

  Sam broke their visual connection. “I thought you did morning showers.”

  She didn’t have to ask how he knew. At times, the old water pipes within these walls could be quite vocal. The urge to escape the awkwardness between them was strong, but moments before he’d broken eye contact, she’d seen a flash of something which looked a lot like disappointment.

  The promise of that gave her courage. “That’s right. Nothing revives me like a nice long shower.”

  His gaze locked on hers. “I wouldn’t mind taking one myself.”

  Rosie bracketed his face with her hands and kissed him thoroughly for hearing the things she couldn’t say. Silently, she thanked him for not making empty promises. He kissed her back with the same intensity.

  This she could deal with. It was bittersweet, but honest.

  Slowly, they drew apart. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Sam unbuttoned one button on her blouse, then another.

  For a split second, she panicked and stilled his hand. What underwear had she thrown on this morning? Would her body appeal to him? She would never be mistaken for a svelte runway model, that was for sure.

  His hard length pressing into her leg told her it didn’t matter.

  She eased off his lap, stood on shaky legs and faced him boldly, cleavage exposed, hair wild and tangled. “I . . . need a minute first.”

  Sam stood and brushed a thumb across her lower lip, his tender touch sending frissons of pleasure down her spine. “I’ll wait until I hear the shower curtain being drawn.”

  She grabbed the elastics he taken from her hair and hesitated. What if indulging their needs tonight destroyed their friendship? What if—

  “Rosie.”

  She raised her panicked gaze to his calm one. “Are we making a mistake here? We could—”

  “Shhh. You’re thinking too much.” He reached for her, slowly drawing her back into a loose embrace, his fingers splayed low on her back. “Kiss me.”

  His gentle approach was exactly what she needed to calm her nerves. Almost any other method of seduction, however manly and assertive it might have been, would have intensified the beginnings of panic.

  Deep in her core, a slow burning sensation began as he pulled her lower body snug against his. He’d obviously not felt any waning of desire or second thoughts. Tentatively, she brought her mouth to his, sipping at his lips before dipping inside them with her tongue. Sam responded with fervor, taking the kiss to inferno levels.

  He withdrew a fraction of an inch. “You’ve got three minutes and I’m coming in that bathroom. Now go.”

  The sound of his voice strained with need, set her leg muscles aquiver. Somehow she made it the length of the hallway.

  Inside his bathroom, she stopped and leaned against the door, surprised at the changes Sam had made. Her house, her palette of taupe complimented by faded-jeans blue. But he’d made it his own with towels and rugs in wide stripes that matched. A bold fabric shower curtain of geometric shapes—also in her colors—hung on a new curved rod that allowed the bather more space. She peeked inside the shower-tub combo to see a new, oversized showerhead.

  Nice.

  It would easily provide a wide enough spray for two.

  She turned on the water to warm before making quick work of necessary business and stripping. Once she’d formed a neat pile of clothes, and secured her hair atop her head with the elastics, she faltered, feeling too exposed and vulnerable.

  Had it been three minutes already?

  With shaking fingers, Rosie adjusted the temperature. This was crazy, this thing between her and Sam. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anyone in a long, long time. Even so, she’d rather not meet him totally naked.

  With a sudden inspiration, she flicked off the lights. There was no window in the interior walled bath, nothing but all-encompassing darkness. Carefully, she stepped under the spray and drew the curtain and liner with enough force Sam couldn’t miss hearing it.

  Her pulse practically leapt through her throat when the door opened and closed.

  She shut her eyes, feeling the warm water sluicing over her body, teasing the very places she wanted his hands.

  Hurry, Sam!

  As if in response to her plea, the curtain slid back and forth.

  “Sam?” she whispered.

  “In the flesh.” His voice, though deeper and strained, was familiar and safe as he crowded her.

  Her eyes flew open but saw nothing. She released her pent-up breath. Thank God he hadn’t turned on the light.

  Her palm connected with a wall of warmth lightly sprinkled with hair. Beneath the layers of bone and lean muscle, his heart beat as fast as hers, the steady thump-thump reassuring. She knew this man. He wouldn’t hurt her in the way she’d been hurt before.

  Sam stepped forward. His arms folded around her gently, as they had in the living room, his large hands pressing her closer. His erection nudged the inside of her thighs, and she heard a low groan.

  Touching his face grounded them both. Their lips met, banked forays of tenderness that threatened to enslave her bruised heart yet hinted at more. Sam nibbled, sucked and kissed his way down her throat. He found a sweet spot at her nape and another at her entrance, tormenting her with mouth and hands until her knees threatened to buckle.

  “Turn around,” he whispered into her ear. The rasp in his voice made her stomach clench, and her body readied for him. Desire had eased them past the awkwardness of first-time lovers. She did as he asked, reluctant to leave the circle of his arms, deliberately brushing her breasts and derriere against him.

  “Tease,” he accused and nipped her shoulder. His hands withdrew and returned slick with body wash.

  The warm water spraying across her nipples intensified Sam’s attentions.
Steam rose, filling the air in the small room, adding to the feeling of intimacy. It was an odd sensation, being in complete darkness, and very erotic. She never knew where Sam’s hands would touch her next.

  But touch he did, showing no hesitation or lessening of desire that would suggest he didn’t find her body to his liking. She relaxed, delighted he obviously considered her body his personal playground. She tried to return his caresses, but the position was awkward.

  “Sam,” she gasped, barely above a whisper. “I need to touch you.”

  “I’m all yours.”

  No. You’re not. But we can pretend for awhile.

  Turning under the spray rinsed most of the soap from her body. Sam poured a generous amount of wash into her open palm and allowed her to return the favor until she took his erection in hand.

  She managed two slow, slippery strokes before he stilled the movement with a firm grasp on her wrist.

  “No more.”

  “I sincerely hope you don’t mean that.”

  Sam chuckled, the sound loud in the room. He reached behind the curtain and a small tearing sound followed.

  She should let it go, but tonight was all about feeling, and she wanted to experience all of Sam.

  “We don’t need that.”

  He touched her shoulder. “You’re protected?”

  She nodded, hoping he wouldn’t need details. Oh, right. He couldn’t see her. “I . . . yes. And there’s no other need for it.”

  “Not for me either. I’d never put you at risk.”

  “I know.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

  The exchange could have left them feeling awkward, but had the opposite effect. Sam gathered her close, whispering his impatience, fueling her own, though the rapidly cooling spray indicated they should continue elsewhere.

  “What’s with the goose bumps?” he growled in her ear.

  Rosie giggled. “I’m beginning to get cold. I think we’ve used all the hot water.”

  “Do we have to dry off in the dark, too?” Sam shut the water off.

  “You didn’t like letting your other senses see me first?”

  “Oh, it was . . . inspired. I’ll give you that. Erotic as hell. But I’m dying to see this luscious body of yours.”

  Luscious? He thought her body was luscious?

  Well, now. The man deserved a reward for a comment like that.

  * * *

  He’d died and gone to heaven.

  It was the only explanation Sam could supply for a reality that surpassed his imagination, and in far less time than he’d expected.

  Rubbing a towel over his hair while his body dripped water on the carpet, he flicked on a small bedside lamp and looked to see if Rosie had followed.

  Hot. Damn.

  With an emphasis on hot.

  In the dim light filtering across the hall, Rosie stood in profile, like a porcelain statue. The bath towel wrapped around her covered way too much in his estimation. She raised her arms to unwind the bands from her hair, and the towel slipped off, fluttering to the floor as she shook out the glorious mass.

  He hadn’t thought it was possible to get any harder than he’d been in that shower.

  He’d called it erotic, and it had been. But it had taken Rosie and a darkened room to teach him intimacy.

  She reached for the towel.

  “No!” The word exploded from him in a harsh whisper.

  Her head jerked up, lips parted in surprise.

  He raised an index finger to his lips with a conspiratorial grin, reminding her of the need to keep a certain little girl asleep.

  They both moved forward, meeting in his doorway. The evaporating water droplets cooled his skin, brought his desire in check. Tugging her inside, he shut out the world, needing her to understand the things welling within him, threatening to burst open. She’d freed him this afternoon with that kiss and a few words. He had to make sure she understood their original agreement still stood.

  “Rosie?”

  She slid into his arms and nibbled along his collarbone, “Hmm?”

  Oh, yeah. That felt good. Somewhere between that shower and his bedroom, she’d become bolder and he wasn’t complaining. Where was he? “A-about this. Uh . . . us.”

  “Don’t.” Rosie stilled.

  “But—”

  “Please? We both know the score. Can’t we just—”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” He struggled not to sound disappointed or relieved as both emotions assaulted him. Damn, where had the disappointment come from? “I’m an idiot.”

  Rosie giggled against his shoulder. “Let’s just say your timing is off and shut up now.”

  He could do that.

  Sam nuzzled her hair aside and sucked on her earlobe, lightly raking his teeth across it. She shivered within his arms, burrowing closer. Clearly, her desire hadn’t waned and his own persevered quite insistently. “Let’s take this to bed.”

  “Absolutely.” The breathy quality in her voice distracted him, focused his attention on the way her breasts brushed against his chest. How long had it been since he’d felt this close to someone? Had he ever?

  He palmed a plump breast, plucked at the nipple, need spearing through him with her indrawn breath. The bed seemed a mile away. He captured her mouth again, walking backwards, drawing her with him, tumbling them sideways across the turned down duvet.

  She looped a leg over his, her eyelids half closed from desire. “I think this was inevitable. We’ve been dancing around this ever since you came back.”

  “This?” He focused his attention on the sensitive nub between her thighs. She curled into him with a gasp, demonstrating how perilously close she was to the edge.

  He’d take that as a yes.

  Even lost in sensation, her mouth and hands sought him. He’d slept with his share of women over the years, but nothing he’d experienced had been like this. Making love with Rosie was almost too intense, and dangerously addicting. He doubted he’d ever forget this night and the feel of her velvety touch.

  With one quick move he positioned himself above her. She sought his hands, laced their fingers together. Gazes locked, he sank into her welcoming warmth. With all the foreplay and heightened sensitivity, satisfaction overcame them with a swift intensity.

  He lay down beside her, breathing hard. They’d scarcely regained normal lung function, when Sam realized he was still hungry for Rosie. He tugged her into a spooning position and cupped her breast, then tugged at her nipple.

  She gasped and arched her butt, grinding her bottom against his hard length. “Again?”

  “You complaining?”

  “Not me. That feels . . . great. Please—” She gasped again as he pinched and rolled the sensitive nub. “Yeah, that. More.”

  He chuckled against her ear, then rimmed her ear with his tongue while complying with her demand. “I love how responsive you are. How about another position this time?”

  “Mmm.” She nodded, her eyes half closed. “I like this one.”

  “Better leverage if I’m kneeling behind you.”

  Shoving the covers toward the end of the bed, Rosie wasted no time complying with his suggestion. She giggled when he nipped at her shoulder. Then he revisited the sweet spot on her nape and played with her breasts until she trembled. “Sam.”

  His name was a plea. He moved between her legs, loving the sensation of white-hot need that struck him like a blow when she raised her bottom against him. The action slid his erection through her slick folds. She sucked air between her teeth, then sighed. He closed his hands around her hips and pulled her against him as he pushed inside her. Under his hands, her muscles rippled below the soft skin as she moved with him, inciting him more.

  Rosie tossed her head, slinging her hair over to one side. Her gaze caught on something, her lips parted in surprise, and he turned his head to see. Another punch of desire hit him at their reflected images in the dresser mirror and the perfect rhythm of their bodies. Time and again they surged against
each other like a perfectly orchestrated symphony, increasing tempo until the dramatic ending note reverberated through them both.

  Sam tumbled back to the bed. Rosie grabbed at the bedding and covered them, settling back against his side.

  He hugged her to him, not wanting to let go yet. She complied by wrapping her arm across his chest. The warm darkness of sleep pulled at him.

  * * *

  Rosie awoke to darkness and the sound of a phone ringing in the distance. She sat up, disoriented, as the noise ceased. Who would be calling at this hour? And why was the phone so far away?

  A decidedly masculine arm thrown across her waist brought everything back into focus.

  Sam.

  His room. His bed.

  Glorious hours of discovery and pleasure within his arms. She smiled, remembering how they’d fallen asleep, thoroughly satiated.

  The phone’s shrill call sounded again, alarming and insistent. She eased from the bed, grabbed her abandoned towel and dashed into her kitchen, grateful for the nightlights she kept at strategic points throughout the house. Jerking the receiver from its cradle, she answered, “Hullo?”

  “Please. You have to help me,” a female voice pleaded tearfully.

  “Who is this? If you’re in trouble you need to hang up and dial 9-1-1.” Rosie listened to sobbing as she eased the connecting door closed, her heart racing wildly.

  “You’re the one Sam’s going to marry, aren’t you?”

  “Yes. I’m Sam’s fiancée. Who is this?”

  “Please, help me. Don’t let him keep my kid away from me forever.”

  Jeezus freakin’ Pete and the G-String Band. “Jasmine?”

  “Yes. I know a lot of women like you idolize me, but please, try to think of me as Lorelei’s mother. My arms are empty,” she declared dramatically with a delicate sniff. “I need my kid back.”

  Assured there wasn’t any emergency, Rosie’s exhaustion hit hard, and she yawned audibly.

  “Hel-lo?”

  “Sorry. I’m not trying to be insensitive, but it’s the middle of the night here. Can you call back tomorrow?” Rosie thought it prudent not to mention she was standing in her kitchen, fresh from Sam’s bed and getting a chill.