Wildflower (6 page)

The Missourian ducked his head. “Nuthin’.”

“Good. Go get some grub. I’ll take care of your horse.”

Shuffling his feet, Tom left. Matt focused on shoveling hay into stalls, the itching now a shiver of caution.

“You want to tell me what was going on, Matt?”

Logan had retrieved a curry comb from the shelf and was brushing his horse, but his steadfast gaze was nailed to her. She presented him with her back and tried like the dickens not to act ruffled. “Nothing.”

“Didn’t sound like
nothing
when I came in.”

“I can’t help what it sounded like.”

“Tell me what you and Tom were doing.”

She pivoted around, a hip cocked in a show of confidence she sorely didn’t feel. “What do you care what Tom and I were doing?”

“You’re my wife.” His voice was low, hard. “I won’t have you dallying with another man. You hear me? I won’t have it.”

“
You
won’t have it?” she scoffed. The pitchfork again pierced the hay stack.

“That’s right. I’m your husband, damn it.”

Another scoff. “You might be my husband, but you don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Oh, yes, I do.”

She turned her back and tossed the hay into a stall. Out of nowhere, Logan’s hands latched onto the pitchfork handle, plucking it from her grasp. She spun around in time to see the tool sail across the barn then directed her gaze to his face.

The unbridled anger which darkened his expression caught her off guard. Trepidation wove through her middle. She shook off the feeling and shoved past him. “I’ve got work to do.”

But he didn’t budge. The next thing she knew, he lifted her into his arms and carried her into an empty stall. She flailed and fought, but she was no match for his size and strength.

In the corner, he dropped her to her feet, then hooked a boot on a stall slat, pinning her to the wall with his leg. She was trapped and more than a bit unsure of what he intended.

Still she thrust her chin at him. She refused to be bullied. He peeled off a glove with his teeth. When his bare hand cupped her cheek, she jerked away. He held her steady. His calloused thumb traversed lazily across her lower lip.

“
Wh—
What are you doing?” She hated that her voice shook.

“I never got to properly kiss my bride.”

Though his tone was still low, it lacked the earlier hardness. In fact, the deep timbre rolled over her. Through her. He came closer and she pushed against his chest. He was as immovable as a thousand pound longhorn bull.

He continued the approach, his eyes pewter in color. He smelled like prairie and cowboy, fresh air with a tang of leather. The solid feel of his muscled chest caused her nipples to peak to aching points. The ache traveled down to between her legs where she felt wet. A foreign sensation that scared the hell out of her.

Matt pushed harder and turned her head, but the hand on her cheek wrapped around her neck, further trapping her. Helplessness swelled in her chest. She clenched her jaw to keep the impotent sob locked inside and closed her eyes.

The first touch of his mouth to hers was light, testing. He increased the pressure as his lips moved over hers slow and easy. It was like he wanted her to kiss him back. She pressed her lips together in stubborn refusal.

But when his tongue stroked along the seam of her lips, she couldn’t stop a stunned gasp from escaping. His hot, slick tongue quickly invaded.

Shock rippled through her. Logan’s tongue was in her mouth and she wasn’t disgusted. To the contrary, it felt...good.

Real good.

Her balled fists relaxed and her tense arms went limp. Useless, they dropped to her sides. A groan rumbled through him. His arms encircled her waist and he hauled her tight to his body, knocking off his hat in the process.

She’d often imagined what kissing would be like. What would it feel like to have someone’s lips touch hers? Slimy? Wet? And what happen to the noses? How did you keep them from mashing together? But nothing in her imagination could prepare her for this reality.

Logan’s lips were soft, yet firm. Not at all slimy or wet. And it tasted like he’d just eaten some smoked beef. Curiosity compelled her tongue to touch his for the briefest of moments. It was enough to unleash a feral growl from him. He pulled her even tighter, like he wanted their two bodies to be one. His mouth devoured as his tongue plundered. His hand clamped onto her breast, but a grumble vibrated in his throat.

Before she could react, her shirt opened and he was palming her through her long johns. He tweaked the nipple between his thumb and finger. Something sharp bulleted down to her woman’s center. She got even wetter. Her knees went weak then buckled. He lifted her so she straddled his leg.

She was hot. So hot. Burning up hot like she was sick with fever. In the back of her mind, Matt knew she should be fighting. She shouldn’t allow Logan to do what he was doing. But she was just a rag doll. Floppy, boneless. Unable to do anything except yield to her husband’s wants.

He tore his mouth from hers and tipped her head to expose her neck. His beard stubble scraped her tender skin as he nipped and bit. He moved his knee back and forth, creating a delicious friction at the juncture of her legs.

A friction that grew. It got stronger with each rub of Levi’s against Levi’s. The pit of her stomach quivered. Her skin became too small for her body. Her heart thumped faster than a stampede. Then faster still.

What’s happening to me?

Maybe she was dying. She had to be because these feelings were so strange, so different. Like nothing she’d ever experienced.

From very far away she heard fabric rip. Then cold air stung her breast. An instant later, Logan’s hot mouth covered her nipple. He suckled, drawing her deep into his mouth.

Dear Lord!

She was lost. Tossed into a whirlwind of feelings and emotions. His knee increased the tempo. His tongue curled around her nipple, and pulled. Hard.

Dynamite exploded between her legs. Ricochets shot up to her face. Her hair shivered. Without a doubt her heart was going to fly from her chest.

Logan dropped his leg and gripped her hips in both hands. Frantically, he rubbed his pelvis to hers, his face buried in her neck. Something stiff pressed into her lower belly. Instinct told her it was his manhood. His cock.

“Ah, God, Matt!” His fingers dug into her skin through the denim material as he suddenly went still except for the thrusting. Warmth penetrated the layers of clothing.

Long moments passed with the only sound his harsh breathing in her ear. He pulled away and her legs collapsed. His arms quickly balanced her.

Dazed, she stared at her husband, waiting for an explanation of what had just happened. She needed to know it was all right. That she was all right.

He didn’t even look at her.

When she could stand on her own, he bent to retrieve his hat. He straightened and his gaze fixed on her chest. She looked down. Her breast was exposed.

The center was darker than usual, with red marks, like rabbit tracks, across the skin. She heard him swallow. Then he reached out and pulled her shirt closed. Logan put on his hat and coat and wordlessly left the barn.

Alone and confused, she crumpled to the dirt floor.

~
~
~

Logan spent extra time playing cards in the cookhouse. He didn’t want to head up the main house until he was sure Matt was asleep. His behavior in the barn plagued him.

He never should have touched her in anger. He should have been smart enough to walk away. But he hadn’t been.

When he heard her laughter, so carefree and young, a sound he’d never elicited from her himself, something white hot and ugly possessed him. He told himself all he’d wanted was a kiss. His rightful kiss that had been denied him at their wedding. But he’d also wanted to teach her a lesson not to dally with another man. Too bad the only one schooled had been him.

The echo of her mewling cries as she came reverberated in his head. He had come as well. In his Levi’s. And that hadn’t happened since he was fourteen and greener than Matt’s eyes.

The taste of her lips and neck, the feel of her plump breast and pearled nipple fogged his brain. His cock pulsed. He folded with three
tens
in his hand to Arch. The only thing to do was turn in and pray he didn’t wake up in the morning. Better to be dead than living this hell.

Outside, the cold wind slapped his body, helping to dent his lust. Logan hunched a shoulder and crossed the yard. Maybe he should move back to the bunkhouse, put some distance between himself and his wife. He quickly dismissed the idea. He wouldn’t heap shame on Matt. No one would ever learn from him that they weren’t truly man and wife. Only thing for him to do was get through the next three months. Any way he could.

He shoved open the house door and froze. Matt slowly rose to her feet, those glorious green eyes pinning him to thin air.

He recovered by shutting the door harder than he intended then busied himself hanging up his coat. He felt her gaze on him the whole time. His cock stirred to life. He poured the last of the coffee and noticed a half-empty cup in front of Matt. He’d told Chuck earlier they’d be going to town in the morning for supplies.

Left with nothing else to do, he faced her square. If you know the cards in your hand are weak, bluff. And Lord knew Logan was weak when it came to Matt.

“Thought you’d be in bed,” he grumbled.

Her weight shifted. “I, uh, wanted to talk to you.”

He straddled a chair backwards and rested his forearms on the back. He took a sip and watched her squirm. He hated that she was uncomfortable—that he made her uncomfortable—but he didn’t know what to say. Arching an eyebrow, he waited for her to speak.

She sank into her chair. “It’s about what happened this afternoon.”

He concentrated on taking another gulp of coffee. The memory of their encounter made his prick ache. “Okay.”

Her delicate throat worked up and down. “What happened to me?”

He lifted a shoulder, his mouth pulling into a slight frown. “I kissed you.”

“But more than that happened. What was it?”

He lowered his gaze to the contents of his cup and swished the liquid around. Should have stayed in the damn bunkhouse. “You mean when you came?”

“I didn’t leave.”

He lifted the cup to his mouth. “What?” he asked around the rim before taking a swallow.

“You said I came, but I didn’t leave the barn.”

He sputtered and choked on the liquid, finally catching his breath. He wanted to throw back his head and howl with laughter. One look at Matt’s innocent expression and he wanted to enfold her in his arms. He coughed. “Uh, that’s not what I meant. What I meant was, uh, you experienced, uh, what some would say is, uh...” His voice trailed off. Never before had he been so completely tongue-tied.

“It scared me.”

Her quiet confession hit him low and hard.

“I thought I was gonna die.”

Guilt trampled his chest. “Ah, hell, Matt. I didn’t mean for you to feel that way. What you felt wasn’t bad. It was normal and natural. Something that should happen between a man and his wife.”

“You saying we had marital relations?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.”