Promises Prevail (The Promise Series) (13 page)

“How not important?”

“It’s just your wedding present.”

Just? “You got me a wedding present?”

Her voice dropped to almost nonexistent as she answered, “Yes.”

Now that was a surprise. Brides didn’t normally give their husbands a present, let alone brides who were marrying out of necessity.

“Will it keep?”

She ducked her head. “It’s not important.”

The way she tried to sink inside herself told him this was very important to her. Important enough that she worried about his reaction. That meant it was personal. He wheeled Ornery around.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting my present.”

“There’s no need. It’s nothing special.”

“I think I’ll see that for myself.”

He reached the porch. With a cluck of his tongue, he urged Ornery on. Jenna squealed and pressed back against his chest as the horse lurched up the steps. He hugged her tighter with one arm as he leaned over and grabbed up the basket. It was heavy, and not because of the threadbare cloak that sat on top.

“What’s in it, Jenna?”

“I know how much you like chocolate.”

“Chocolate?” Clint asked, nudging the lid. “Jenna, you baked me something chocolate?”

Her “yes” was shy, sweet, and uncertain.

“Ah baby, I’m going to love being married to you.”

She clearly didn’t know what to do with that. She shifted in the saddle, bringing the fullness of her buttocks against the top of his aching shaft.

“It’s just a little something.”

“Sunshine, the littlest something from you can have a man in ecstasy.”

Including the littlest movement of her ass on his cock. As she straightened, the soft fullness caressed his length. He pushed up with his right leg, prolonging the pressure. She gasped, but couldn’t do anything but let him enjoy her. He liked her sweet and submissive against him. He kissed the top of her head, and turned toward home.

As soon as Ornery slowed to a walk, he touched his lips to Jenna’s ear. “Did I get a chance to tell you how beautiful you look today?”

She stiffened slightly and then relaxed. “No.”

“Now that’s a shame, because you are beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“And I’m very hungry for you.”

“Oh.”

“Which brings me to a question.” He brought his hand to her back under her cloak, trailing his fingers up the multitude of buttons covering her spine.

“What?”

“How averse are you to my unbuttoning this dress and pleasuring those beautiful breasts of yours while we ride?”

She was completely averse to that idea, but before she could even voice her opinion, Jenna felt the give that said Clint had her dress unbuttoned to her chest. She clutched the basket to her and whispered her thanks for the heavy wool of her cloak.

“Nothing to say?”

She shook her head. What could she say? He was her husband.

“Ah, I like that.” Her dress was sagging off of her shoulders. She took comfort in the fact that not a lot of her flesh was exposed, thanks to her heavy corset and chemise. Then his hand slid across her corset. The calluses caught on the smooth material as it traversed her side to the fullness of her breast. Inwardly, she cringed as his big hand opened and stretched over her curves.

She was so big. Had always been too big. Like a big fat cow that no amount of squishing and compressing could ever hide. Especially when a man held her in his hand. Like Jack had done. Like Clint was doing.

She braced herself for the scathing comment that was sure to come. She’d heard them all since her breasts had surged to prominence during her twelfth year. Someday, she’d be immune.

“Sunshine?” Clint’s lips brushed the side of her neck.

“What?”

“Slide your arms out of your dress.”

“Here? Are you serious?”

There was a flick of something hot and moist on her neck—his tongue? It sent shivers of goose bumps down her arms.

“Dead serious.”

“But we’re out in the open.”

“The cloak covers you.”

“Ornery might bolt.” Jack had been demanding in his needs, but never like this.

“Nah.” Clint’s fingers slid back and forth on the side of her camisole—whisper light, inching the fabric of her dress forward, freeing the path for his fingers.

“He hates snow. He’ll just plod all the way to the barn door.”

She was out of excuses. She unbuttoned her cuffs. Heat burned up her chest and over her cheeks in a wave of embarrassment as she slid her hands out slowly. Behind her, Clint chuckled.

She didn’t want to know why, but some suicidal part of her just had to ask, “What?”

The answer was a low, deep murmur of sound against her ear. “I’ve never felt a woman blush before.”

“I can’t help it.”

He nuzzled his face into the curve of her neck. “I don’t want you to help it. Just commenting on the facts.” He pressed the reins into her hands as soon as her arms were clear. “Hold these.”

“What are you doing?”

“I’m freeing up my hands.”

“You can’t do that.” Was he out of his mind? “I can’t drive a horse.”

“No driving to be done. Just hold them steady.”

She curled her fingers into the basket and repeated the obvious, “I can’t drive this horse.”

“Sure you can.” Against her hand, she felt his fingers relax. Good heavens! He was going to get them both killed!

“Grab hold now.”

She did, clutching the basket with her forearms and grabbing the falling reins with her gloved fingers. Someone had to exercise some common sense.

“You’re crazy!”

She felt his smile slide against her hair. “Nah. Just hungry for my wife.”

His mouth settled on her shoulder while his hand worked under her cloak, and then before she could draw a breath to protest, he had both of her breasts in his hands. The thin cotton of her camisole did nothing to diminish the impact of his touch. His hands were hard, sure, and firm. Not hurting. Not fumbling. Just holding her, as if weighing her assets. In an agony of suspense she awaited his verdict.

“Sunshine, you are one pleasant handful for a man.”

“You don’t think I’m too big?” If he was just being nice, she’d rather know upfront. His laugh puffed over her neck, raising more goose bumps.

“You feel just right in my hands.”

“Oh.”

“Nothing more to say?” he asked, his tongue sliding over the path of bumps on her skin. Wet and hot. She should be repulsed. She wasn’t. Maybe it was because he wasn’t overwhelming her. With the exception of Ornery’s potential flight, she didn’t have a sense of impending doom that overtook her every time things spun out of control.

“No.”

The cool air blew over the flesh he’d moistened. New bumps arose, and she shivered. He sucked at the curve of her shoulder.

“Hmm, you smell good. Like fresh air and roses.”

“It’s the powder.”

“The powder?” She felt the edge of his teeth on the cord of her neck. She held herself very still. He was very big behind her. Very intimidating.

“Mara loaned it to me,” she whispered.

“I like it.”

“Thank you.”

“You should get some.”

“Oh, I couldn’t.”

His mouth separated from her skin. His lips nibbled at her earlobe as his hands began a subtle massage on her breasts. She bit her lip, all her attention shifting to his hands.

“Why not?”

“It’s expensive.”

“If you like it, get it.”

He said that now when he had his hands on her body and bedding on his mind, but she knew how attitudes changed when the urge passed.

“I’ll think on it.”

The wind blew, and soft fat flakes swirled in her face. She blinked and pulled back. Straight into the unyielding support of his chest. He seemed to tuck her in, absorb her weight. Shelter her. She wasn’t a small woman, but Clint made her feel that way for the simple reason that he was so big. And he handled her so carefully. Not like something he owned, but like something he valued. She couldn’t figure him out.

“That’s right, Sunshine, cuddle back here and let me make us both feel good.”

Clint felt Jenna’s small surrender in the way she rested against him, but there was a fine tension humming under her skin. She was doing what he asked, but she was wary. Clint slid his palms up Jenna’s magnificent breasts, tightening his grip as he tugged ever so slightly at their weight, enjoying their soft resiliency as he worked his way up to their equally soft peaks. With a curl of his pinkies, he pulled her camisole down.

He wished the cloak wasn’t in his way so he could see their color. He imagined they were a soft pink, maybe with a hint of red on the tips. He explored their textures with his index fingers, taking advantage of Jenna’s uneasy shifting to rub the tender tips. They were flat. Unresponsive.

He wasn’t deterred. He never figured she’d light up like a torch right away. For all the talk, he’d never imagined Jenna as loose. He’d call her a lot of things—shy stubborn, opinionated, and oddly courageous—but round in the heels was not a term he’d lay on her. This ride was more of a “get acquainted” session for them, but she was such a sweet handful, it was a challenge to remember her bedroom experiences to date might not have left her enthusiastic.

Ornery stumbled on a rock. Jenna yanked back on the reins. Ornery hopped a protest. Jenna dropped the reins and almost threw herself to the ground. For a few seconds, Clint had all he could do to hold Jenna, rescue his present, and keep Ornery from crow-hopping the joy out of this wedding night.

“Son of a bitch.” He pulled Ornery to a halt, resettled Jenna in front of him, and handed her the basket.

“I’ll give you one thing, Sunshine. You sure can ruin a moment.”

“I told you I couldn’t drive a horse,” she whispered.

He eyed her flushed cheeks, wide eyes and death grip on the basket.

“So you did.” He squeezed his knees, putting Ornery back into motion. Jenna sat so stiff in front of him that it was almost a dare. He never could resist a dare.

He pressed the reins back against her hands. She shook her head vigorously, her light blonde hair glowing in the last bits of daylight.

“Either you hold them, or we just let them go.”

She turned in his arms, her expression one of horror and incredulity.

“You can’t want to go through that again?”

“You’ve got to learn sometime. Now is as good as any.”

And he really wanted to see if he could make her nipples perk just a little in the time he had left.