Wildflower (7 page)

“But you didn’t bed me.”

“No, I didn’t.” And his body would never forgive him as his cock throbbed harder.

She stared at her folded hands on the table.

He wanted to allay her fears. “Look, Matt, you have my word that what happened today won’t happen again.”

That rifled her gaze to him. “It won’t?”

He had to be hearing things. He didn’t just hear the panicked edge of regret in her voice, did he? He leaned closer. “You just said what happened to you scared you.”

“It did. But not in a bad way.”

“What does that mean?”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “When I was ten, there was a rope tied to that old oak by the pond. The cowhands used to swing on it in the summer then let go when they were over the middle of the pond. On a dare, I climbed that rope and they swung me high, higher than any of them had gone. My heart pounded in my ears and I couldn’t breathe with the air rushing past me. They kept hollering at me to let go. To jump. I was so scared, but I wouldn’t let them see that. I let go and flew through the air. I squeezed my eyes shut, thinking for sure I was about to die. I hit the water and when I came up, the only thing I could think about was doing it again.”

Her smoldering emerald eyes
arrowed
his heart. “That’s pretty much how I felt this afternoon in the barn.”

For the longest time, Logan labored to get words—any words—out of his mouth. He was struck dumb by her admission. In a careful move, he rose to his feet. She followed suit, those eyes of hers never leaving his face.

“Are you saying you want to have more…relations with me?”

She chewed on the corner of her lower lip and nodded. Or maybe he just imagined she nodded. He sidled along the table, moving slow so as not to frighten her. When he stood in front of her, he took her arms with tender hands. Her body trembled beneath his touch, but still she stared into his eyes. “Do you want to have relations with me again, Matt? I need to hear you say so.”

The pink tip of her tongue darted around her lips. A groan lodged in his throat. “Yes,” she whispered. “But I don’t want you to bed me. If you do, we couldn’t get an annulment.”

“True.”

“No bedding, then. Agreed?”

She stuck her hand out and he grasped it. “Agreed.” His blood churned in anticipation.

“We’ll just do what we did today.” Her voice quivered. “Okay?”

He pulled her to him and threaded his fingers through her short, silky hair. His heart did a little jig when she didn’t resist. Her back bowed which pressed her breasts into his chest, her arms at her side.

“We could.” His lips skimmed along her hairline. “But there are other things we can do.”

She tensed. “No bedding. We agreed.”

“Yes, we did.” He nipped her earlobe.

“Wh…what other things?” she asked on a breathy moan as he nuzzled her neck, her body molding to his.

“Oh, things with our fingers. And with our mouths.”

She pulled away with a gasp, her pupils the size of silver dollars. “Your mouth? Down there?”

He cupped the nape of her neck with his palm. “And your mouth. Down there.”

Her gaze flicked downward then raced to meet his. He saw shocked curiosity in her eyes. But he also saw desire. Open and raw. His jeans grew smaller as his cock grew larger.

At this rate he’d spend himself again in his Levi’s before ever touching her. One hand circled her waist while the other picked up an oil lamp from the table. “Want me to show you?”

Chapter Four

Matt walked into her bedroom, her gaze immediately held prisoner by the narrow bed against the far wall. Shadowed by the light from the fireplace in the main room, it looked smaller than usual. Puny.

She’d slept on the same thin tick mattress, with the same washed-out bedding, all her life. It never bothered her. Neither had the scarred dresser nor the chipped washbasin setting on top. But now she wished for a bigger bed and newer, nicer possessions.

The door closed with a soft click and Logan placed the lamp on the dresser. His hands came to rest on her shoulders. She tried not to flinch at his touch.

“You sure about this, Matt?” His hushed voice tickled the hair on her neck.

Was she? She thought she was. Had convinced herself since being in the barn with him that she was. But with Logan in her bedroom, doubt now plagued her. And fear.

His hands squeezed her shoulders, then dropped away. “This is a mistake.”

She spun around so fast, her head glanced a blow to his chin. “No.” His eyebrows arched and she had to look away from the power in his eyes. “It’s not a mistake. I’m just...”

“Just what?”

She’d rather have her tongue cut out than admit she was uncertain of herself. That she was scared. “I’m, uh, not wearing anything pretty for you.”

A crooked smile tugged at his lips. “That’s okay. You wouldn’t be wearing it for very long anyway.”

He began undoing the buttons of her shirt. She clenched her hands, trying not to balk. After two buttons, his finger traced the line of her jaw. The light touch stung slightly.

“You’ve got beard burn,” he stated, regret in his voice. “I was pretty rough with you today, wasn’t I?”

“I’m not complaining.”

Gray eyes filled with tenderness. “You never do.”

His head dipped and the velvety feel of his lips took the place of his finger. Her eyes fluttered shut and she swayed into his chest. He cupped her cheek with one hand and tilted her head to the side. His other arm snaked around her waist, bringing her closer as his mouth traversed the length of her neck.

Just like in the barn, dampness pooled between her legs and her breasts grew achy. Heat flushed her skin, igniting her from the inside out. He sucked her earlobe into his mouth. Tingles rained down her spine. She gripped his shirt front in tight fists.

“You like that?” His hot breath rustled her hair. “Tell me what else you like.”

“I…I don’t know.”

“What did you like in the barn?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Tell me.”

She forced her brain to think. “I liked when you kissed me.”

“Like this?”

He seized her lips in a domineering kiss. His hungry mouth and probing tongue robbed her of what little thought process she had left.

He lifted up a fraction. “Damn it. Kiss me back.”

Frustration sparked tears to her eyes. “I don’t know how.”

“Sure you do. Just do what I’m doing. Use your tongue. Your teeth.”

She mimicked his actions, outlining his lips with her tongue before drawing his bottom lip into her mouth.

“Yeah. That’s it.” He groaned. “Just like that, sweetheart.”

Warmth shivered through her. He’d called her sweetheart. She’d never been called anything but Matt or girl her whole life. The endearment persuaded her arms to wrap around his neck.

He crushed her to him and bodily picked her up. Unlike in the barn, she didn’t fight. He laid her down on the mattress, stretching out beside her. The old bed ropes moaned and sagged under the extra weight. Her kisses grew bolder. She dueled with his tongue as an unexplained need swelled inside her.

He left her mouth to again work the buttons of her shirt, his breathing ragged. She was glad she’d removed the tattered long johns earlier in the day. When the buttons were undone, he moved to her feet and wrestled off her boots. He then undid the buttons of her denims and plucked the Levi’s, along with her drawers, from her legs in one sweep.

Anticipation raised goose flesh along her skin when he sat back on his haunches and gently pulled open her shirt.

His gaze went flinty. His nostrils flared. For the longest time, he just stared at her.

He inhaled a tight breath as his palms ghosted around her breasts. His thumbs stroked her nipples. On instinct, she arched her back. More than anything, she wanted the stiff peaks in his mouth. He must have read her thoughts because in the next breath, he pushed her breasts together and lowered his head.

At the first lick of his tongue, air dammed up in her throat. The second peeled her lips back in a silent cry of pleasure. On the third, she was lost, moaning and thrashing her head on the small pillow.

“You like that, don’t you?” His husky voice pulsed across her nerve endings. “Tell me you like it.”

“I…like…it.”

“Want me to suck your pretty nipples into my mouth?”

“Y—yes.”

“Look at me, Matt. Watch me.”

She
tipped
up her head and satisfaction lifted his lips at her acquiescence. With irises nearly black, he descended once again to her breast.

The tug of his tongue blurred her vision. He suckled first one breast then the other. The wetness between her thighs increased, like she was crying. Down there. Desperate for something, but she didn’t know what. He moved his hand between her legs. On impulse, she clamped them together. Tight.

“Open for me.”

Her muscles relaxed at his hoarse command and he wiggled his fingers until they touched her in the most carnal of ways. A way she never would have dreamed of. He stroked through her wetness, seeking then finding a tiny nub of skin.

Pleasure whipped out from where he fondled. Where he caressed and pinched. More moans escaped as her legs drew themselves wider. They shook with the tension building inside her, pulling her tight. So tight, she thought sure she’d snap.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he mumbled against her breast. “You’re gonna come for me.”

She didn’t know where she was going. Maybe over a cliff because that’s what it felt like. A very steep cliff.

Logan had claimed this was normal. But how this sensation could be normal was beyond her understanding. She only knew she didn’t want it to stop, not even if she did die.

The cliff edge loomed closer. She held her breath in expectation of being flung over it. Of dying. He shoved a finger inside her. It stung briefly, right before her intimate muscles cramped around the finger.

His mouth sucked harder on her nipple. His finger moved in and out of her, slick and wet. He added a second finger. Of their own accord, her hips bucked to his rhythmic cadence. Her heart thundered. Her hands twisted in the bed sheet. Blood pounded at her temples. Stars erupted behind her eyelids.

This is it. I’m really dying this time.

Explosions ripped through her, one after another. Her scream echoed in the room. Her body convulsed. Her hips lifted from the mattress. She flew through the air.

Off the cliff.

Maybe seconds or hours passed before she floated back to Earth, unmoving. The bed bounced. She cracked open her eyes to see Logan, standing and ripping at his clothes. She struggled onto her elbows for a better view.

Though shadowed, the features of his face were drawn tight. Lamplight hugged the sharp angles of his back and shoulders. His body appeared unyielding, hard. She wanted to touch it, feel it. Discover if he was as rigid as he looked.

He shucked his denims and she stared at the one body part that was very much rigid.