Authors: Jennifer Jakes
Tangy. A ll man. A ll Rafe. She inhaled, his musky scent surrounding her.
He stiffened and arched off the bed, pushing himself to the back of her throat.
Swallowing, she savored the tangy flavor. He shuddered. She did it again. Faster. Up, down. Faster.
Faster.
“Christ! Stop. Please. Just straddle me. Please. I want to feel your pussy around me.”
She smiled, realizing she had pushed him to the edge of reason. It was heady to have such power over this man.
His skin had a sheen of sweat as she settled on her knees over his body. He ran his hands up her thighs touching her slick heat. Then cock in hand, he guided her hips forward, the blunt crown pressing her entrance.
“Now slide down real easy, sweetheart.”
Maggie swallowed and balanced her palms on his chest. The feeling was so new, so very different from the other times they had made love. Inch by inch she enveloped him until he filled her, and she sat astride him as she would Moses.
Rafe didn’t move. His jaw clenched, the cords of his neck stood out.
“A ll right?” His hands gripped her legs tightly.
“Oh, yes,” she almost purred and wiggled a bit.
“What now?”
“Ride me,” he groaned, sliding his hands around to grip her bottom. “Like this.” With slow, easy movements, he showed her what to do.
His hand fell away once she found the rhythm, and he reached for her breasts. The feel of his rough fingers plucking and pinching her nipples shredded any control she attempted to maintain, sending shards of heat to her pussy as she bucked her hips, riding his cock like she was riding for her life. Her hair tangled over her face. Sweat rolled down her back. So close. So close.
“Touch me. I need more.”
Threading his fingers through her curls, he pressed his thumb against her nub.
“Oh, Christ!” Pleasure seized her like a knot being pulled tight, doubling her over onto his chest.
“Yes, sweetheart. Yes, yes.” Rafe’s voice was hoarse, rough, his skin sweaty under her palms.
He gripped her bottom and arched beneath her, driving himself deep, filling her with his seed, long, hot spurts that flooded her channel and curled her toes.
His hands stroked up and down her back as she sighed, content against his pounding heart.
“You’re going to put me to sleep.” She let her lips brush small kisses over his body between the words.
He chuckled, the sound rumbled low in her ear. “I believe you deserve a nap after that.”
She rose up on her elbows. “You enjoyed it then?” He snorted. “Couldn’t you tell?” He shook his head. “I sure didn’t last long.”
Yes, that was true. She blushed. But did that mean she had done it right, or was he just needy for release?
“You were incredible. A sight I’ll never forget.” He tipped her chin up with his finger. “One I hope you’ll repeat sometimes. You liked doing it, didn’t you?”
“Very much.” Her voice was soft, but it embarrassed her to admit how much she loved being intimate with him. He was addictive. Once a day only made her hungry for more.
He yawned, then turned and tucked her against his side.
“Sleepy?” she asked.
“Mmm.” His breathing became deep, relaxed as he drifted off.
She touched his whiskered face, his soft mouth, needing to reassure herself he was truly healed. The thought of losing him was still too fresh.
A nd there was still danger out there.
What would happen when—if—Simon came for Rafe?
She shuddered. She had to be more vigilant. Then, when Rafe felt up to traveling, they could go to St. Louis, collect her money and Nettie, and all go far away. Maybe to France.
If she could get him to agree.
Her mind skittered to a halt. When had she decided to make a life with him? What about her independence?
It wasn’t marriage. That was true. She was still in control of her actions.
Her heart beat faster as a plan formed. Maybe they could find a valley just like Rafe wanted, one in France or Italy. A nything was better than the risk of him being killed.
She pressed a kiss to his lips and got up to dress.
How was it possible Christmas was only two weeks away? She should work on his present. A little more shading on her face and the self-portrait would be done.
She sat in the rocker and took out her pencils. It would be nice to have a Christmas tree. There were several tiny evergreens around the back of the barn.
Ones small enough she could cut by herself.
Slipping the paper back inside the satchel, she grabbed her coat and headed to the barn for the ax.
Wouldn’t Rafe be surprised when he woke?
Rafe rolled over and reached for Maggie, but found the bed empty. He cracked open a sleep-blurred eye and wondered where she was.
“What do you think? Will he like it?” She stood in the corner, talking to Wolf.
When she moved, a small decorated tree caught his gaze. The tiny trunk stuck out of the top of a whiskey jug. Strips of petticoat draped the pitiful branches with pine cones nestled amongst.
“I hope he will,” she continued. Wolf cocked his head, listening. “I want him to enjoy this Christmas. He’s spent too many years alone, or at war.” She petted the dog. “I want him to be happy. A s soon as Rafe’s healed, we can go get my inheritance. Then we’ll go someplace safe. You, too. A nd Nettie. She’ll like you, and you her.” Maggie stroked the heavy fur and stared at the fire. “I don’t care where we go just so long as I know nobody is trying to kill Rafe.”
His heart clenched. He had caused her so much pain.
Would he ever be able to make it up to her?
Then another thought struck him. Maggie was a wealthy woman now that Michael was dead. Rafe wasn’t sure that fact set too well. He didn’t have much to offer her, and he’d never really approved of men who lived off their wives. A nd from the sound of her plan, she wanted to whisk him away from Simon’s grasp.
Living their life in hiding wasn’t what Rafe wanted.
He wanted a home, a life, one he was sure they wouldn’t have to walk away from in the middle of the night to save their lives. Two years of looking over his shoulder was enough.
“Maggie?” She and Wolf both turned. “Come here.” Rafe held out his hand.
“Oh.” She smiled. “You’re awake.” She came easily into his arms, allowing him to pull her down onto the bed beside him. “I was thinking I’d have to wake you for supper.”
Rafe brushed a kiss across her lips. “I see you’ve been busy. The tree looks pretty.”
“Really?” Her blue eyes shined. “I thought we should have one.”
He nodded. “Yes.” He braced for her argument. “A nd next year we’ll have a big one for our new house. But it won’t be someplace we’ve run to hide.”
“But—”
He covered her mouth with his finger.
She frowned, but he continued. “I won’t do it. I’ve decided when I’m strong enough, I’ll take you to St.
Louis. Then I’m going to find Simon.”
“But you can’t.” Fear filled her eyes.
“Yes, I can. I’m settling this once and for all.” He hesitated but she had a right to know the risks. “One way or the other.”
When her lip quivered, Rafe’s resolve nearly crumbled, but he held fast. If he wanted to give her the kind of life she deserved, he had to meet Simon head-on.
“I’m not trying to upset you.” He stroked her hair.
“You know that, don’t you?”
Tears rolled silently down her face, but she didn’t answer.
“Sweetheart, don’t cry,” he soothed. “I’ll be fine. A nd now since your money is secured, I won’t worry whether you’ll have someplace safe to stay while I look for him.”
“Please. Don’t do this,” she choked.
“I have to.”
She pulled from his embrace and sat on the edge of the bed. Her back was to him, but huge sobs shook her shoulders. God, he could take her anger, but knowing he had hurt her tore through his heart.
He slid beside her and wrapped his arms around her trembling body.
“Please try to understand.” He squeezed her close. “I can’t have a life with you until this mess is over.” A nother sob shook her. He sighed, feeling like a snake. “Please?” Kneeling in front of her, he rubbed her arms, her shoulders. He tried to lift her face to his, but she turned away.
“I surely didn’t intend to do this naked,” he mumbled, “but Maggie Monroe, I want to marry you.” Her head snapped up. “Well, you can’t very well do that if you’re dead,” she cried. “Please? Let’s get my money and go to France.”
He started shaking his head before she finished talking. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I’ve told you why.” He leaned between her legs and hugged her, laid his head against her breasts. “I love you, but I’ve made up my mind.”
He half expected her to push him away. Instead her arms wrapped around him, holding him close to her soft body.
“I love you, too,” she whispered between sniffles.
“You do, huh?” He lifted his head. “Then how come you haven’t agreed to marry me?” he teased.
To his surprise, she started crying again. Didn’t she want to be his wife?
Rafe stood and grasped her hand, then pulled her to the rocker, settling her on his lap before he spoke. They were going to get this figured out. If she didn’t want him, he was going to damn well know why.
She buried her face in his neck, clinging to him, and all his anger melted.
“Maggie?” He rubbed circles on her back. “It’s all right if you don’t want to marry me.” It wasn’t—it would break his heart, but he didn’t want her pity. “Please don’t cry. You can say no.”
She lifted her tear-streaked face. “I don’t know what to say,” she wailed. “I never wanted to get married and now…I love you but…” She shuddered out a sob. “What if things change? Once we married, I mean. What if you change?” She sat up straight and gave him a fierce look.
“You wouldn’t be able to order me around, you know. I will always have my own mind.”
“I never thought otherwise.” He sighed in frustration.
Damn, this wasn’t going very well.
“A nd if I agreed to this, how can you expect me to sit in St. Louis and plan our wedding when you might very well be murdered?” She shuddered as she spoke.
Oh. He hadn’t thought of it that way. A dead groom would put a damper on things.
“If you wouldn’t mind a small wedding, I’ll make you my wife this spring at the fort.” He pressed a kiss to her temple and tried to reassure her. “I love you. Trust me on this. Please.”
Huge blue eyes with tears spiked lashes stared at him. “I don’t care about big weddings. I only care about you.” She chewed her lip. “I love you. But I have to think about this.”
“But—” He sucked a long, calming breath. “I’ve never tried to take your freedom. Why can’t you trust me?” He kissed her greedily. Damn it, she was his.
He snaked his hand under her shirt to cup her breasts. There was one sure way to show her they belonged together.
Panting he pulled back. “Why can’t you trust me?” he asked again.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered.
A dull pain started in his chest. “You think I would physically hurt you?” Didn’t she understand she was his world?
“No! Not that.”
“Then what?”
“If we marry, I would belong to you. Like property.
A ny decisions to be made would automatically fall to you. I would be nothing more than a mindless keeper of the house—your house.” Her brows knitted when he started to object, and she clamped her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that’s not what happens. I’ve seen it!
By God, I’ve lived it.”
Her words bristled up his spine. “You think I’m no better than your father or Michael.” The insult hurt worse than a wound.
“No. I know you’re not like them, but…”
“But what?”
“I want to travel, to sketch. No man is going to accept that kind of life.”
“I could.”
“No, you couldn’t!” She shook her head, dark hair flying over her shoulders. “You want to buy a ranch and raise cattle. Livestock has to be taken care of. You can’t do that if you’re not home.”
True, but… “ We can find a way, sweetheart.” They had to. Yes, he wanted that ranch, but he wanted Maggie, too. He wanted Maggie more.
Doubt warred with love in her eyes. “How?”
“Well, we can have the ranch…and when we travel, we’ll hire a foreman.”
“You say that now, but—”
“When have I ever lied to you? Never, that’s when!” He ran his fingers through his hair. There had to be a way to convince her. “I will sign a paper swearing I have no control over you, swearing to consult you on every decision concerning our life together. The paper will say you retain all monies brought to the marriage. A nd if you ever wanted to divorce me,” his voice caught on the sharp pain of that thought, “I’ll let you go.” She frowned.
Good, he’d made her think. “But know this. I would die on the day you walked out of my life.”
Tears rolled down her cheeks. “I—don’t know what to say. I have to think.” Her voice was ragged.
“A ll right. I won’t press you for an answer until you’re ready. But remember, we belong to each other whether or not we marry. I just don’t want to put you through the snide remarks and criticisms of living together outside marriage. You’re better than that.” He wiped her tears with the tip of his finger. “A nd I love you, independent streak and all.”