Wedding Night with the Ranger

by Lauri Robinson

  With one hand, Colt steered her gaze back to him. “Let me assure you, Annalee, no man, drunk or sober, could force me to do something I didn’t want to do. I was the one who made the offer. I said I’d marry you instead of calling the sheriff. Your father said it would be your choice if you married me or not. Then he offered to ride to Oklahoma to capture the rest of the rustlers.”

  Her mind was a swirling mess of thoughts. His touch, his voice, soft and low, made her senses careen and thinking impossible. She tried to comprehend what he’d said. What it meant.

  His palm still cupped her cheek and he spread out his fingers, combed them into her hair. “Why did you agree, Annalee? This morning, when I came to your house and asked you to marry me, why’d you agree?”

  Could she bare her heart and soul? He was a good man, of that she had no doubt, but even a kind and caring man would only take so much. “I needed an escape.” She lowered her eyes and dipped her head, embarrassed by her excuse.

  “You needed an escape?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled.

  “What are you talking about?”

  She lifted her chin, looked at him again. He was so handsome, so honorable. “Honestly, I couldn’t take much more.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of everything.” She huffed out a breath of air. “Of laying out dead bodies, of comforting women whose husbands were spending every dime they had at one of the saloons, of seeing children abused and hungry, of plastering on a smile and answering the door in the middle of the night.”

  “Ah, sweetheart.” He lifted his other hand and framed her face.

  His touch was so soft, so warm and caring. “I know they need help, and I shouldn’t feel this way,” she admitted, “but I can’t keep doing it. I never wanted to do any of it in the first place.”

  A look of surprise covered his face, and a cold, gut-wrenching blotch of guilt bubbled in her stomach. Though she had told the truth, that she didn’t want to continue to be known as the funeral lady, it wasn’t the only reason she’d agreed to marry him, and it was time she admitted that to him and herself.

  “I didn’t want to go on living that way.” A small sob escaped. She stopped another and continued, “Every time a knock came on the door I’d wondered if it would be you they’d haul in for me to prepare for burial. I’d weep with joy when it wasn’t. The families thought I cried for them, for their loss, but I wasn’t. I was crying for myself, that—that—”

  His mouth covered hers, and his strong hands held her face, kept their lips connected. Hot, heavenly sweet, his lips teased hers with feverish heat. Instantly, as if a match had been thrown into a pile of straw, her body flamed. She grabbed his shoulders with both hands and held on for dear life as she let herself drown in his kiss, ready and willing for whatever came next.

  Chapter Five

  He was as close to exploding as he’d ever been. Colt broke the kiss, gasping for air, and all but pulled Annalee off her chair. His chair toppled, but he ignored it and led her through the crowded room. Once they reached the foyer, she passed him, and Colt almost let out an elated hoot as she pulled him toward the staircase.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, brown eyes dancing with excitement.

  They climbed the steps at an almost full-fledged run. Once he threw the door open, she bolted into the room but twirled around, waiting for him to secure it with the key. The locked clicked and he tossed the key, having no care where it landed. He stepped forward, grasped her waist and lowered his head to meet the wet, luscious lips invitingly waiting for him.

  He had a fleeting thought that he was dreaming, but the simple touch, the way his hands fit perfectly in the hollow above her hips, turned the blood in his veins into raging rivers, pulsating so hard and fast his skin grew painfully tight.

  He spread his fingers wide, so they could touch as much of her as possible, and devoured her mouth, sampling every corner. Throbbing, aching, he broke the kiss to gruffly ask, “Why, Annalee, why did you agree to marry me?” Due to the way his heart had leaped into his throat, hoping as feverishly as his ears to hear she’d wanted to marry him, his words had cracked.

  Those huge, heavy-lashed eyes were mesmerizing. Their gaze floated over his face like warm honey. His knees quivered, but he gulped and held his stare and stance steady. The tip of her tongue peeking out, slowly, sensuously, ran along her bottom lip.

  He blinked, swallowed, and blinked again while he waited to hear her answer.

  “Because I love you,” she said, as clear as a sunny summer day. “I didn’t want to spend another day of my life without you.”

  Ready to drop to the floor, he grabbed her, hugged her tight. “Oh, God, sweetheart, I love you, too.” He leaned back, looked directly into her eyes. “Your father didn’t force me to marry you. I wanted to marry you.”

  She settled her feet between both of his, which made his erection press against her pelvic area. “Really?” she asked.

  His hand slipped to the small of her back and he used the pressure to enhance their connection. “Yes, really.”

  She wiggled, teasing him with a delightful grinding motion.

  His other hand roamed up and gently cupped the side of her breast. “Does that make you happy?” he asked, feeling quite euphoric.

  “Oh, yes.” She planted tiny kisses in the hollow of his neck. Each peck was sweet torment. “That and the way you’re touching me,” she whispered.

  “Good,” he said, slipping his thumb along the mound to caress the nipple beneath the material of her dress. The nub hardened under his touch and a powerful surge shot through his body. “Because it makes me happy too, and I like touching you.” He kissed her temple. “I plan on doing much more than touching you.”

  “Like what?” Delight filled her eyes.

  The sight made him smile. “What?” His hands slipped up to her face. The soft, smooth skin of her cheeks warmed his palms as he cradled her jawline. Fusing the tips of his fingers into silky strands of hair, he tenderly lifted her face and peered down, not minding one way or the other if she read how much he cared about her in his eyes. Starting at her forehead, he began a trail of kisses, whispering, “Like kissing you from head to toe.”

  “Oh,” she murmured quite breathlessly. The sound made his heart skip a beat.

  He continued his assault, capturing her mouth with a deep, sensual kiss before moving his lips over her chin, down the slenderness of her neck. Her skin was sweeter than honey. He couldn’t get enough of it. Downstairs he’d told himself it didn’t matter if the only reason she married him was to escape the life she’d been living, but now he knew that hadn’t been true. He’d wanted her to love him as strongly as he loved her. And she did. His chest swelled with the knowledge.

  The neckline of the pink dress, just below the base of her neck, interrupted his kisses. Moving back up to nibble on the lobe of one ear, he whispered, “From the moment you leaped to the defense of those two boys ransacking my saddlebags, I’ve been in love with you.”

  She grasped his backside, held it with both hands as she pressed her torso against his groin. “You have?”

  He strained for control, wanting their playfulness to continue for hours. “Hmm, yes, I have. I tried to find ways to see you again.”

  Her hands moved up and pulled the tail of his shirt out of his waistband. “No, you didn’t.”

  Her enthusiasm was contagious. “Yes, I did.” His fingers went to her hair and plucked away the pins, tossing them onto the floor with abandonment. “But every time we met, we butted heads. So then I tried to stay away.” He shook his head. “That didn’t work either. So I took to watching you from afar, which was torture.”

  Her hands slipped under his shirt. They kneaded his flesh, and each touch heightened his want. “I—I had to butt heads with you,” she admitted.

  “Why?” He lifted his head, looked down at her.

  Face flushed, she said, “Because it was either disagree with you, or follow you around like, like Franc
es Grimshaw.”

  “Frances Grimshaw?” he asked. “Is she one of the women from the sewing circle?”

  She giggled and her fingers dipped into the edge of the waistband.

  His breath caught and his shafted jolted, wanting more. Damn, if she wasn’t the most amazing woman on earth. Her eagerness had him wound tighter than a caged boar. He tossed the last hairpin aside, combed the long stands to fall around her shoulders, and then began to undo the tiny pearl buttons running down the front of her dress. She took a step back, just enough to give herself room to work on the buttons of his shirt.

  Her dress had many more buttons, which meant she finished first and was driving him crazy running her fingers over his rib cage and chest.

  Tipping her head back, giving him more access to the long line of the closures running down the pink silk, she said, “She said you kissed her.”

  “Who?” he asked.

  She pushed, forced him backward until he was pressed against the closed door. “Frances Grimshaw. Did you?”

  “Did I what?” He couldn’t follow the conversation, the lust swirling in his veins making thought impossible.

  “Kiss Frances Grimshaw? Did you kiss her?”

  Still working on the dozens of buttons, feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, he mumbled, “Not that I remember.”

  Her head came forward and blocked his view of the buttons. Questioning eyes peered up at him. “Not that you remember? Do you often forget the girls you kiss?”

  He caught her lips, and in between quick kisses that covered her mouth, chin and cheeks, he said, “I haven’t kissed a girl, other than you, today, since I moved to Dodge.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” he said, once again focused on the buttons of her dress.

  She stepped back, out of his reach, and with unbelievable speed her fingers unfastened the remaining dozen of buttons on her dress. When she undid the last one, she twisted about and placed a foot on the bed and worked at the fasteners of her boots.

  Colt took advantage of the moment. He pulled his arms out of his shirt and threw the garment across the room. Hopping on one foot, he tugged one boot off and then the other. He was a touch more cautious with his gun belt, but ultimately, it too hit the floor with a thud because his eyes and mind were glued on Annalee.

  Pink silk slipped off her shoulders, fluttered down to form a puddle near her bare feet, and then she stepped over the pool of material. The sight stopped his heart. She lifted her face. The glimmer in those brown eyes jolted his heart back into life with such force he clutched his chest.

  She slipped one hand under a white strap looping over her shoulder, and the coy, playful smile on her face sent his pulse racing.

  The thought of undressing her, watching her delectable skin exposed for his eyes, had played in his mind all day, but the pleasure of witnessing her remove each piece was even more enticing, especially knowing she was doing it for him. Would forever do it just for him.

  Colt locked his knees, hoping they wouldn’t give out right now when he needed them most, and observed the most amazing scene he’d ever witnessed.

  Piece by lacy piece, she removed her undergarments, tossing them aside. Glued to the floor, and mesmerized, his eyes followed every movement with awe until she stood before him wearing nothing more than the perfect skin God had bestowed her with. Gloriously, her breasts, firm and full, glimmered in the candlelight. Swallowing, his hand released the hold he had on his britches. He attempted to take a step, but his feet became entangled. He kicked free, pants and drawers flying somewhere behind him, and moved toward her.

  The first touch, his fingers barely flowing over her perfect shoulder, made him gasp for air. The second, the tip of his finger running along the silky skin covering her shoulder blade made his toes curl, and the third, tracing the soft edges of her breasts, made muscles he didn’t know existed quiver. A power, extremely great and encompassing, transfixed him.

  She reached up and looped her arms around his neck. “I’ve dreamed of this moment,” she whispered.

  “So have I.” He lowered his head and allowed his lips to flawlessly dance with hers.

  Her fingers ran into his hair and drew him deeper into the kiss. The glorious perfection of the merger was so overwhelming he grew light-headed.

  She pressed her body against his. Inch for inch their skin fused. The act caused his body to explode with assurance. Running his lips over her chin, down her neck, he licked the salty-sweet skin, then lifted her and twisted so they both landed on the bed.

  She sighed and squirmed, pushing him over until they lay in the middle.

  “Comfortable?” he asked, chuckling and gazing upon the perfection of her shape.

  “Hmm, very.” She ran a stream of wonderfully soft kisses over his chest while her hand flowed down his side. Lightning flashed through his body, practically shooting out of his toes. He bit his lips together and called up his last ounce of reserve.

  “What I said earlier was the truth,” he said, running a finger along her face.

  “About kissing Frances?” she asked hesitantly.

  “That too,” he offered with a grin. “But I was referring to our marriage. No one forced me to marry you. I wanted to marry you, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you.”

  Her eyes turned into shimmering pools. “I want to spend the rest of my life loving you, too.”

  Colt lowered his head, brushed his lips over the peak of one rosy breast. “Then we shall,” he whispered.

  His lips had never tasted anything sweeter, felt anything more wonderful. He took his time, suckling and teasing the hard nub with his tongue before moving to sample the other one. He could feast on her forever, never needing other nourishment.

  She withered beneath him, moaning a soft song of pleasure.

  “You like that?” he asked.

  “Yes. Oh, yes, I do.”

  “I do too.” He stroked the shimmering skin of her sides and stomach. Witnessing her pleasure, knowing he was the source of it, provided a powerful satisfaction. His lips tasted the valley between her breasts, and the flat plain of her stomach.

  Her finger swirled through his hair, but when he twirled his tongue around her belly button, the nails of her fingers softly bit into his shoulder blades.

  He kissed his way back up her torso to her face. “I love you, Annalee.” His fingers ran through her tender curls and into her hot cavern.

  She cupped his cheeks and softly whispered, “I love you, Colt,” before kissing him soundly.

  Her folds were moist, ready for him, and he focused on pleasuring her by stoking and fondling each intimate crease.

  Groaning, she rolled her hips, thrusting against his hand. “Colt, oh, Colt.”

  His mouth was once again suckling her breasts, while he continued to coax her maidenhood to blossom. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Just go with it,” he encouraged as he moved his lips from one tender morsel to the other.

  “Colt, oh—” she murmured. “I think I might explode.”

  “Oh?” he asked, licking her cleavage while stroking and caressing, bringing her up the ladder of desire. Watching her, feeling her, filled him with extreme splendor.

  “Colt,” she gasped again.

  “Yes, darling,” he whispered.

  “I—I… Can I touch you?” she asked him shyly, though breathing heavily.

  His heart grew twofold. “If you want to,” he offered, quivering with anticipation.

  “I want to.” She wrapped one hand around his shaft, squeezed. The sensation made his breath catch. He was ready to plunge his swollen staff deep within her, but a stronger desire drove him, one that wanted her first experience to be as pleasurable and memorable as possible.

  Using both hands and his mouth, he tasted and caressed until sweat glistened her skin. “That’s it, sweetheart, let the rhythm carry you away,” he encouraged. Draping her with kisses, teasing and pleasing her senses, Colt never imagined anything as mag
nificent as watching her mature, unfold like a morning flower catching the first rays of sunshine. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “Oh, my,” she moaned, still gently pumping his member. “It’s…it’s…”

  “Heavenly,” he supplied, kissing her neck and shoulder blade.

  “Yes, but amazingly torturous at the same time,” she said quickly, gasping between each word.

  She’d hit the nail on the head. He had no choice, it was either now, or he’d burst in her hand. Slowly, to not startle her, he moved, slipping out of her grasp. She reached for him as he positioned himself above her. Both of her hands grasped his shoulders and her gaze met his.

  Silently, he asked if she was ready. Excitement sparkled in her eyes and she nodded.

  He’d prepared her with his fingers, and Colt moved swiftly, a split second later her hot, wet body enveloping his throbbing shaft. Slowing his entrance, sensing her maiden barrier, he penetrated the hurdle as gently as possible, drawing her into a deep, intense kiss as her body stiffened. He stilled, letting her fully accept him.

  Breathless, she tugged her lips from his. “Oh, my heavens. That’s it, that’s what I need. How’d you know?”

  “It’s what we both need,” he whispered in her ear.

  “Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” she pleaded, wrapping her legs around his.

  The thought of stopping hadn’t entered his mind. “Never,” he whispered. “I’ll never stop loving you.” Pulling back and thrusting forward, he pumped into her, slowly at first, glorifying in every movement, and then faster, harder.

  “Never,” she agreed, meeting every plunge with unabashed enthusiasm. In a world belonging just to them, they rose above the earth, soared through the heavens as one until a kaleidoscope of colors floated before his eyes. He moaned her name.

  Sweat covered his body, his release imperative. As his control snapped, she arched her back and the muscles surrounding him convulsed.

  “Colt!” she screamed. “Colt!”

  “I know,” he groaned, almost incapable of speaking. “I know.” The world around them exploded, the moment so overwhelming his mind and body could no longer comprehend anything more than holding her, loving her.