Shotgun Vows (16 page)

His eyes darkened even more, and in the next instant Dawson gripped her arms just short of hurting her. He lowered his mouth to hers in a crushing kiss. Her heart beat so hard that it nearly flew from her chest as her breathing escalated. In spite of his words, she felt the anger and passion warring within him. She
had no idea what demons he struggled against. But for now, it was just her and Dawson and if there was any justice in the world, she would make him forget everything but her.

Mattie opened her mouth to him, inviting him inside. When his tongue invaded, she touched it with the tip of her own, and smiled with satisfaction when his breathing grew more ragged. She felt his desperation, his urgency, as he backed away long enough to tear off the rest of his clothes. Then she was in his arms, skin to skin, soft to hard, woman to man.

He backed her up until she felt the bed behind her. The next thing she knew, she was on her back with Dawson above her. He spread her legs apart with his knee, and she willingly obliged. With a gentleness that belied the fierce expression on his face, he touched her most intimate femininity. As he inserted a finger, she felt herself throbbing; she closed around him, welcoming this imitation of the intimacy she craved.

“You're so ready,” he said in a strangled voice.

Shocked at her boldness, yet trusting her instincts, she took his manhood in her hand. He sucked in a breath and trembled. “So are you,” she murmured.

She stroked his shaft and marveled at the silky softness. Moving her hand slowly, tenderly, she explored him.

He gasped and put his hand over hers. “Stop.”

“Why?”

“If you don't, in about ten seconds it will be all over.” He closed his eyes and shuddered. There was a fierce look of concentration on his face. When he opened his eyes, he said, “Besides, I don't want to hurt you.”

“How can this hurt me? You don't need to protect
me. Not from this. I want you. I've wanted you ever since that first time. Don't you get it? Just love me—”

“Damn it, Mattie.” His voice was nearly a growl. “You don't know what you're saying.”

“Yes, I do. You can roar at me all you want. But I am woman—I'll roar right back.”

Despite his words, he continued to stroke her. As bolts of desire zapped her, she found it increasingly difficult to think straight. To make a rational argument about why it was all right to continue doing what they were doing. It was time to just do it. Still holding him in her hand, she positioned him at the opening of her womanhood. She smiled to herself when he groaned.

“I have to be inside you.”

“Yes. Please. Now,” she cried.

He entered her fast and hard, and she gloried in his possession. She had never felt more feminine, more womanly than she did at this moment. There was no pain this time, just pure physical satisfaction and intense pleasure that flowed through her like liquid fire. Oh, she was warm. Every part of her was hot.

He leaned forward to kiss her, and at the same time took most of his weight on his elbows. She lifted her hips, thrusting against him.

“Easy, Mattie. Slow and easy does it.” Dawson brushed the hair back from her face and gently kissed her forehead, nose, jaw, and a spot just beneath her ear that nearly sent her to the great beyond. “I've wanted you, too, ever since the first time. I'm not sure I can hold out.”

“We've got all night,” she said, frustrated. She'd waited, too, and she was
ready.

“Yes.” But he continued to kiss her face slowly, sweetly.

She throbbed with need and started a slow, subtle, sexy hip rhythm. “Please, Dawson.”

He groaned again. “Mattie, stop.”

“Please, Dawson,” she said, sensing his imminent surrender.

“Not yet.”

She wiggled against him and heard his sharp intake of breath. “Witch,” he growled. “If that's the way you want it.”

“It is,” she answered.

“You asked for it.”

He moved against her, and she received him as he thrust again and again. In the center of her belly, a knot tightened. With each lunge she felt herself moving closer and closer to the breaking point. She wrapped her legs around him, and this time his rasping breath seemed to come from deep in his soul.

“Oh, Mattie. That feels so good.”

“I'm glad,” she whispered, placing her palms on his chest. She brushed the pads of her thumbs across his nipples and felt them tighten.

With every thrust, the pressure inside her built, until she silently begged for release. Finally, there was a jolt of electricity where their bodies joined that created an explosion of bright light behind her eyes. Tremors shook her body. His arms shaking with tension, Dawson held her until she went still. Then he lunged once more and stopped. Her eyes opened in time to see a fierce look on his face. He made a sound deep in his throat, then he gathered her to his chest as he claimed his own release.

He rolled to his side. Still holding her in his arms, he carried her with him and snuggled her against him.

His chest expanded from the huge breath he took in. “So,” he said.

“So,” she answered.

“How do you feel?”

Good question. Warm fuzzys. Glowing. Content. Happy.
The feelings were so big, so deep, so wonderful, she didn't have the words to express the delicious sensation. So she simply said, “I love you.”

D
awson straightened his tie as he walked down the hall to the kitchen. The smells of breakfast drifted to him and his mouth started to water, not so much at the thought of food, but at the thought of the cook.
Mattie.
How had she so quickly become part of his life?

Waking up with her in his arms just a short time ago was the best thing that had ever happened to him. Her silky hair had spilled over his shoulders and trickled down his chest, teasing him with erotic promise. He had never seen a more beautiful sight than a drowsy Mattie, blinking sleep from her eyes, then her radiant smile when she'd noticed that he was watching her. Followed again by the words that still shook him to his soul.

I love you.

The happiness in her expression slipped a little when he hadn't responded in kind; he had just kissed the tip of her cute little nose. But he just couldn't say what she wanted to hear. And yet, he couldn't let it just hang there between them. A dialogue over breakfast was just what they needed to clear the air.

He walked into the kitchen and stopped in the doorway to watch her butter toast. Dressed in a T-shirt tucked into jeans that hugged her hips and legs, she made even that mundane chore seem sexy. Knowing
he would hate himself later, he walked up behind her and put his hands at her waist, then nuzzled her neck.

“Mmm,” she said dreamily, tipping her head to the side to give him better access. “Good morning.”

“How did you sleep?” he asked, hoping her rest had been better than his own.

“Like a rock.” She turned into him and automatically wrapped her arms around his waist as she nestled into his chest.

He told himself that it was wrong to pull her against him. He also knew after last night that he could never go back to not touching her at all.

She lifted her lips to his for a sweet, almost chaste kiss that left him wanting to turn up the heat, to get out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom. But this wasn't the time or place.

Apparently she felt the same, because she patted his tie and stepped back. “How do you want your eggs this morning?”

“Scrambled.” Like his mind.

“Okay.” She turned back to the stove and cracked some eggs into a bowl, then beat them with a whisk.

His gaze dropped to her shapely derriere, then lower to her legs. He remembered the feel of them wrapped around his waist just a few hours earlier. The reality of her gesture, drawing him deeper inside her, was even more wonderfully erotic than the fantasies he'd had since first laying eyes on her. He grew hard at the thought, and shifted uncomfortably. This line of thinking wouldn't get him anywhere.

She divided the cooked eggs onto two plates, added bacon, fried potatoes and toast, then set them on the table. “Coffee?” she asked.

“I'll get it.” He poured himself a mug, then sat
down at the table across from her.
Here goes nothing,
he thought. “About last night—” He stopped as a sweet, contented smile turned up the corners of her full mouth.

She looked like a woman completely fulfilled by her husband. That was good news—and bad. Good because she'd taken to the marriage bed like a duck to water. He couldn't help being glad that he'd satisfied her so completely that she wouldn't look to another man—especially a cowboy—for fulfillment. And he had never experienced with any woman the satisfaction he had with Mattie last night.

But bad because there was more to this than just the physical. Her emotional needs were much more complicated. And so important.

“What about last night?” she asked. “If you need to lodge a protest, the complaint department is now open.”

“I would be a fool to complain about a night like we had.” Her saucy grin made him throb with need. “But we have to talk about what you said.”

“What? When?” She took a bite of toast as her smooth forehead creased with a frown.

She'd said it several more times. The words came so naturally to her that he wasn't surprised she didn't have a clue what he was talking about. Coming from a big, loving family, affection had been a constant in her life. It was something taken for granted. He envied her; he hadn't been so lucky. His father hadn't been around much, and his mother had needed
his
emotional support after the divorce. She'd been in no condition to nurture.

“When I asked how you felt after we made love.”

“Which time?” she asked, grinning wickedly.

“The first time,” he said, exasperated because it was difficult to stay focused with her. Damn, she was distracting. He had to agree with her mother about naked arguing. It was sure to end any disagreement. “And I was talking about physically. But you said—”

“I love you,” she interrupted.

“Right.” He rested his forearms on the table and met her gaze. “I know you want me to say it back.”

She stared at him for several moments, then shook her head and frowned. “I don't think I want to talk about this now.”

Dawson squarely met her gaze. “Waiting won't make the problem disappear, Mattie.”

“I never said it would. I just don't think this is a good time.”

“It's as good a time as any. I believe in honesty and communication.”
Unlike my father,
he thought. If his old man had just been honest with his mother, their whole sordid mess would have been easier to deal with.

“Honesty and communication are good. At a mutually convenient time.”

“I'll make this quick. You said you loved me.”

She nodded. “And I meant it.”

He wanted to ask her why. He had taken her virginity and spoiled her for another man. He'd used her badly and forced her into marriage because of it. She had forfeited her hopes and dreams because of his baser needs. He couldn't believe that what she felt for him was love.

“I care about you—a lot,” he said. “But I can't say that I love you.” He winced as the light in her eyes seemed to flicker.

She looked as if he'd just hit her, and he felt lower
than a snake's belly. Then she lifted her chin and met his gaze. He couldn't help admiring her guts. She was a hell of a woman.

“I never asked you to,” she said.

“But you want to hear the words.”

“Every woman wants that,” she said. “But not if you don't mean it.”

“I care about you more than I've cared for any woman, Mattie.”

She shook her head. “Don't lie to me, Dawson.”

“It's not a lie. That's not my style.”

She nodded, satisfied. “Good. I'll hold you to that and believe you care. It's a start. Love has grown under weirder circumstances.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “That's just it, Mattie. I don't know what love is. I'm uncomfortable with the word.”

“Okay. You don't have to say it. Just don't expect me to
not
say it.”

“Can't we leave love out of this? We have something better.”

“Better?” She looked incredulous. “What could possibly be better than love?”

He saw the look in her eyes and knew he'd made a serious error. He'd forgotten that this was the same woman who'd fantasized about a marriage proposal complete with candlelight dinner and her intended on one knee when he popped the question. She was a hopeless romantic dressed in denim instead of lace. The funny part was, he wouldn't have her any other way. Did that mean he loved her? He didn't know.

“I'll tell you what's better than love. Respect,” he said, nodding emphatically.

“Respect?” She looked even more incredulous. In
fact, she looked like she might be contemplating slugging him.

He nodded. “I have learned to regard you with admiration and affection.”

“If you can't love me, Dawson, at least have the guts to just say so. Don't throw twenty-dollar words at me and think that makes everything a-okay.”

“That's not—”

“Don't interrupt. If you can't really care about me, don't tippy-toe around the issue and cover it up. Say it straight out.”

There was a
honk
from outside.

“What's that?” he asked.

“My ride,” she said, pushing her practically untouched plate of food away. She stood.

“I'm taking you to the ranch.”

“Since when?”

Since last night. But apparently he'd forgotten to mention it to her. “I'll go out and tell whichever of your cowboy chauffeurs is waiting that I'm driving you in later.”

She shook her head. “I'd rather ride with the devil himself. You can take your respect and stick it—” She stopped and took a deep breath. Her voice was sad when she said, “I'm going to work now. I hope you and your respect have a wonderful day.” She half turned, then rounded on him again. “And I hope that respect warms your bed tonight.”

Then she turned on her heel and walked out. Dawson started to follow, but the phone rang. He looked at it, then at Mattie's retreating back. He wanted to go after her, but couldn't ignore the insistent ringing. It could be news about Clint Lockhart. Until the man was caught, he wouldn't breathe easier about Mattie's
safety. As much as he hated the idea of her riding to work with one of the ranch hands, it was better than her going by herself.

As he picked up the phone, he heard the front door slam, and flinched as the windows rattled. “Hello?”

“When did you plan to tell me that I have a daughter-in-law?” asked the familiar female voice.

“Hello, Mother.” Dawson sighed as he took the remote receiver and sat in Mattie's chair. “How are you?”

“Fine. Actually, that's not entirely accurate. I'm miffed that you didn't see fit to let me know that you were married.”

“How did you find out?”

There was a chuckle on the other end of the line. “So you're only sorry that you got caught.”

“Yes, and that I haven't had a chance to fill you in. How did you find out?” he asked again.

“Mallory told her mother, who told a mutual friend, who mentioned it thinking I already knew.” She tsked. “I nearly choked. A heck of a way to find out your only son is married.”

So he'd screwed up. What else was new?

“Sorry, Mother. I'm not going to bore you with excuses.”

“Are you even going to tell me her name?”

“Matilda—Mattie Fortune. She's from the Australian branch of the family.”

“Tell me everything. And start with the excuses. I have a feeling they're the juicy part.”

He picked up Mattie's fork and pushed eggs around her plate. “It was a whirlwind affair, and we got caught up in a double wedding ceremony with Mattie's brother Brody. I knew you were traveling and
wouldn't be able to get back in time. Reed and Mallory are on their way to live in Australia, and we all wanted to get married while they were still here.” He looked at the door his wife had slammed only moments before. “And life with Mattie is never dull.”

“What's wrong, Dawson?”

He could almost hear a frown in his mother's voice. “Nothing.”

Everything.
His answer was automatic as it always was with his mother. He'd taken on the role of her protector and old habits died hard. But he couldn't help wondering how women were able to read him so well. Especially his mother. He was always the one trying to cheer her up. Get her over the depression and resentment of being dumped for a younger woman. Somewhere in all that, the dynamics of their relationship had shifted. He'd always felt like the parent, and she the child. He didn't think she knew him at all.

“Don't give me that ‘nothing' garbage, son. I know I haven't always been there for you when you needed me. I apologize for that. But I'm here now. And I can hear in your voice that you're upset about something. Tell me what's really going on. What's bothering you?”

He'd told Mallory. What harm could it do to let his mother in on the sordid details? “I married Mattie because I seduced her.”

There was a noise on the other end of the phone that sounded an awful lot like a snort. His mother never snorted.

“That happens all the time,” she said. “And men don't feel obligated to marry the woman.” There was a pause. “Is she pregnant?”

He hoped not. “No. But she was a virgin.”

Another snort. “Pregnancy and virginity aren't mutually exclusive, Dawson. Your father, the doctor, was supposed to have explained all this to you twenty years ago.”

He laughed. “He did. I know all about the birds and bees.”

“Good.” There was another pause on the line, then she said, “You know, son, you're a lot like him.”

“Now there's a recommendation,” he said wryly.

“You have no reason to believe me after all the disparaging remarks you heard about your father over the years. But he was a good man. Just like you.”

Now it was his turn to snort. “Yeah. Hold on while I dust off my wings and halo.” He heard her laughter.

“He was also flawed, just like you.” She sighed. “Dawson, I'm a selfish woman. I've struggled with it all my life. It cost me your father, and I withdrew from you. He and I ran out of time to rectify the mistake. I won't let the same thing happen with you.”

“What are you saying, Mother?”

“Your father and I started having problems because I demanded more and more of his time. He was a gifted heart surgeon who had an obligation to use his talent for saving lives. Selfishly, childishly, I asked him for more time than he had to give me. We quarreled constantly, and eventually he turned to someone else for solace and companionship. Probably sex, too.”

“What's your point? I'm sure you have one, Mother.”

“You bet I do. He came to me once after he'd married again. He asked what I thought about a reconciliation.”

“What happened?” He knew his shock at her revelation was evident in his voice.