Two Nights with His Bride (16 page)

“A good marriage is at least 80 percent good luck in finding the right person at the right time. The rest is trust.”

—Nanette Newman

W
yatt stood calf-deep
in the river’s calm waters and cast his line. He’d already caught one fish, but it had been small so he’d set it free. Since the horse needed a rest and his dad had
tacitly encouraged Nancy to stay away for a night, he wanted to make sure they had dinner. Plus, if he caught one more glance of her wearing his shirt and boxer briefs, he’d fall on her erection-first.

When he’d offered her his shirt, he hadn’t realized she wasn’t wearing a bra. He’d figured it out pretty quickly, though, when her nipples brushed against the cotton.

She sat on the footbridge
to his right, dangling her own line into the water looking thoroughly undone. His clothes swamped her. Her hair—which had been intricately twisted in a style that must’ve taken hours—now fell around her shoulders in big, messy curls. Her makeup was smeared under her eyes.

She was the most stunning bride he’d ever seen. Jilter, not jilted. Survivor, not defeated. And if he let himself look at
her—
really
look at her—he would make advances she really didn’t need right now.

Her line went taut, and her body came to life. “I got a bite!”

He rushed back up the grassy riverbank and laid his rod on the blanket he’d set out for them. She didn’t need his help reeling in a river fish, but he ran over to her anyway, the excitement of a catch something he always liked sharing. “Reel it in slowly.”

She gave him the side-eye, as if she were thinking
duh
. But she kept it to herself as she fought the fish and won. He knelt beside her and unhooked it, a funny sort of pride welling up as he nudged her shoulder. “It’s bigger than mine.”

“I wasn’t going to point that out.”

He laughed. “How magnanimous. You did good. Looks like the Montana girl’s still in there somewhere.”

“I learned from the
best,” she said lightly.

Something tugged deep in his chest.

She’d learned from him.

He tried not to notice the curve her breasts made in his shirt, or how the seam of his boxer briefs pressed intimately between her legs, right along her own seam.

“Let’s take care of this guy and give the rest of the fish a break, huh?” He took her reel and the fish and walked back to the riverbank, feeling
her follow a few steps behind. Not that he heard her but that his whole body seemed to be tuned to hers now, aware of every movement and longing for her to step so close she touched him.

But she didn’t. She collapsed onto the picnic blanket and surveyed the river, the wooden bridge, the overhanging trees dipping their branches into the water, and the cabin his grandfather had built as an escape
from his grandmother.

“I feel like I’ve been here before.”

He grinned. “I should hope so. It’s where I taught you how to fish.”

Her jaw softened, her lips parting on a gasp as memories apparently flooded back and she looked around with brand-new eyes. Pointing at the bridge, she said, “We stood there. And…and something bad happened, didn’t it? I remember blood.”

Grimacing, he admitted, “The
first time you threw the line, you accidentally hooked me. It ripped open the skin of my arm.”

“Oh, Wyatt!” She pressed her palms against her mouth.

“It wasn’t too bad,” he rushed to lie to her. “Just a flesh wound.”

“Do you have a scar?”

His grimace deepened. “You’re dealing with enough right now. You don’t need to—”

Her hand flew up. “Stop. Seriously, stop right there. I’ve had it up to
here with men telling me what I can handle and what I need. Show me your scar.”

Reluctantly, he gave in. “Keep in mind it was an accident. And shock set in pretty quickly, so it didn’t hurt as bad as it looks like it must’ve.” He unbuttoned his flannel shirt and shrugged his right arm out, pointing to a long, jagged scar that started at his triceps and sliced around to his biceps.

Her jaw slackened.
“I…I did
that
?”

“No, sweetheart. The hook did.”

Her throat flexed as she swallowed hard, her voice a reedy whisper. “I’m so sorry. How old were we?”

“You were probably three or four. Way too young for me to teach you how to fish. I shouldn’t have had you anywhere near the river, but—” He cut himself off.

“Okay, I’m going to tell you one last time not to second-guess what I can handle. Just
tell me.”

A heavy weight settled itself on his shoulders. He hated these memories as much as he hated hurting her, but she was right. She was the only person with the right to judge what she could handle. “It was the day your parents found out your mom had cancer. I’d been mucking out stalls, and I realized your dad was sitting behind the stables, crying. You were there with your little arm around
him, saying, ‘It’ll be okay, Daddy.’ And I just…” He swallowed as the vivid image of her innocent bravery came back to him. “I couldn’t take it. I’d overheard my grandma telling grandpa that the diagnosis was a death sentence. Obviously your mom proved her wrong, but at that moment I thought you were going to lose her, and it killed me to watch you reassuring your dad. I had to get you out of
there, let him cry in peace and let you have some fun before your life fell apart.”

Tears welled in her red-rimmed eyes, and she clamped her jaw shut. Her pain was like a knife to his guts. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told—”

She stumbled to her knees and tackled him to the blanket, kissing him. Shock froze him for the barest of seconds before he tightened his hold, terrified she would pull
back any moment. Weeks of worry exploded behind his ribs, but then her lips parted with a soft sigh as she deepened the kiss and everything in the world seemed right before lust knocked him off his axis.

He wanted her. Wanted her so bad nothing else made sense. The hard clasp of her fingertips in his hair as she lay on top of him pushed him to the edge and beyond.

He cupped her face, nudging
her nose with his and tangling his tongue with hers, kissing the girl who’d been equal parts sunshine and pain in his ass for as long as he could remember.

Their years apart drifted away as he gave in to the curiosity that had grown inside him since he’d laid eyes on her in that ridiculous bunny costume.

No. Longer. Since he’d turned on his TV one day and seen a stunning woman and realized with
a shock that Nancylynn Pruitt had grown up. She was a woman, and she was finally kissing him.

She wound her arms around his neck and pressed closer, the shirt of his that she wore rubbing painfully against his oversensitized skin. He fingered the top button. “Can we get rid of this?”

“Please.” She brushed his hand away so she could slip each button from its hole, but he didn’t have the patience.
His fists clamped over the two edges of the shirt and ripped the thing right down the middle. She wriggled out of it and kicked her way out of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, shit.” His whole body ached at the sight of the siren before him. Her disheveled hair teased the tops of her breasts. Her
bare
breasts. White lace panties rode low on her hips. When she’d put on his clothes, she’d ditched those lingerie
ribbons that had hung down from her panties and the white stockings they’d held up against her delicious-looking thighs, so her legs were smooth and naked. She was a page from a catalog, a fantasy made reality. “You are so fucking beautiful.”

Nervous laughter bubbled out of her. “So are you.”

He shook his head, his sense of right and wrong kicking in with a vengeance. She’d put this underwear
on for another man. A man who certainly didn’t deserve a woman like her, but that didn’t change the fact she was vulnerable and hurting right now. He wanted her, but he wanted her whole, not coming to him because she felt lost and confused.

She was sitting on his lap, and he needed some distance if he was to regain his sanity. Forcing himself not to touch her too intimately as he clutched her
hips and moved her off his painful erection, he tried to ignore the twinge of anguished rejection that flitted across her face. “I’m not saying no, sweetheart, but we need to talk about this. Need to slow down for just one second because the last thing I want to do is hurt you.”

Her nostrils twitched in disagreement. “I don’t want to talk about it. I’ve had enough of talking today. I just—”

Her voice broke, and she hid her face in her hands as she took deep breaths. Not trusting himself to do more than touch her hair, he laid his hand on the back of her head. “It’s okay. It’s been a really shitty day.”

She shook her head and met his eyes, tears swimming in hers. “No. This was supposed to be the most important day of my life, and it has been. I’m not crying because I’m broken, Wyatt.
I’m crying because I came so close to being broken but I got away. Every step from here on out is going to be tough. I don’t doubt that. But I have a lot of fight left in me. I’m just sorry it took me so long to figure that out.”

Relief made his chest ache. “You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.”

She laid her fingertips on his chest. “I should’ve seen you earlier. I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

He hadn’t seen her either. He’d convinced himself she was a little girl still in need of his protection. It had made him feel big and strong and utterly helpless when he’d had to walk away. But she wasn’t that girl. She’d been fighting her own battles and saving herself as long as he could remember—and she’d done it again today.

“I want to be with you.” Her shoulders straightened with resolve.
“Please. I want to be with you.”

That was all the reassurance he needed. He swept her into his arms and caught her lips with his. Her legs circled his waist, and her heat pressed low against his stomach as he laid her back on the blanket and lowered himself onto her. He hardened at the soft feel of her. “Jesus. I’ve never felt anything like you before.”

“Likewise.” She pushed his shirt off him.
“Oh, my God.” She shivered with quickening breaths and trailed her fingertips down the indentation between his abs. Down, down, down till she brushed his hard cock through his pants with a curious, exploring touch. “I’ve never seen anything like you, either.”

Shuddering with barely repressed need, he straddled her hips and cradled her hand as he worked the bloated-diamond engagement ring off
her finger with a hell of a lot more gentleness than he felt when he looked at the massive rock. “Can I throw this in the river?”

Something uncomfortable flicked across her face. “I’d better send it back to him.”

Reluctantly, he dropped it in the bucket with their dinner. “Okay, but let me know if you change your mind about that. It’d be fun to see how fast a diamond that size sinks.”

Her fingers
strayed to ribbons holding her panties together at the hips. He wanted to be the one to undress her, so he captured her wrists and pinned them to the blanket above her head. Pink nipples hardened under his gaze, her skin pebbling in the humid air. He brushed her nipples with his palm, and she sucked in a breath.

“Sorry,” he said. “Callouses.”

Her eyes hazed over. “Do it again.”

He did, and
she shivered hard, making him grin. “Want to go inside and get under the covers?”

“No. Again.”

“I have something even better in mind.” He shifted down her body, knelt between her thighs and drew her nipple into his mouth. Her body stretched out like a cat reveling in the sunshine after a day spent in shadows. Pure carnal need unfurled low in his belly, tightening his balls in excruciatingly
sweet pain as he licked and sucked and stroked her. Her legs shifted restlessly, and he yanked hard on her panties. The thin lace ripped apart easily as he stripped her completely. A reverent curse spilled from his lips. She lay beneath him, bare of everything but a lust-filled gaze that ramped up his urgency.

“Now you.” Clearly unwilling to lie there and take it, she propped herself on her elbows
and yanked his pants open. He barely heard the fabric tearing over the blood rushing in his ears as she gave his erection a kiss through his boxer briefs. “Damn,” she breathed. “
This.
”

“Hate to disagree,” he said, his fingers finding her hot, wet, ready, “but
this
.”

She tugged his head down and kissed him, her mouth wide open and eager. He held her tight and stroked as her hand worked its way
into his underwear. The second she touched his bare skin, he sucked in a breath and shuddered with pleasure. “Okay, you’re right. That too.”

Shoving his pants and underwear down to his knees, she rubbed her breasts against his chest, her breathy moans invading his mouth. He fumbled for his wallet, desperately hoping he would discover a condom in there somewhere.

Success!

Thank God for his years
as a Boy Scout.

Kicking free of his pants, he encouraged her to lie flat and stretched out on top of her. He spread her thighs wide and rocked into her as her nails dug into his ass, urging him on with breath-hitching gasps. “Oh, God. Deeper. Deeper.”

He obliged, thrusting hard enough to make her whimper against his throat. “You okay?”

“Better than ever. Give me more. All of you.”

He gave
her everything he had and more.

‡