“I prefer to keep it on,” she said, moving around the bed to the other side.
He stood, facing her from across the wide mattress they would share, and jammed his hands on his hips. He refused to get mad with her tonight, no matter how much she prodded him. “Josie, sweetheart,” he said, his tone soft and infinitely patient. “Either you take off the nightgown, or I’ll do it for you. One way or another, it’s coming off.”
Her answer was to pull back the spread and blanket on her side of the bed, slide in between the covers, and yank them up to her chin.
Stubborn woman, he thought, blowing out a harsh breath. Fine, two could play her game. Unzipping his jeans, he hooked his fingers into the waistband and pushed the heavy material down his legs. Leaving his briefs on for now, he joined her and moved close. In one swift move he tossed the spread and sheet down to her sock-clad toes.
Her mouth pursed, but she didn’t scramble for the covers. “Could you turn off the light, please?” she asked primly.
Bracing himself on a forearm, he stared down at her. “I prefer to keep it on,” he said, mocking her by repeating her own words.
She opened her mouth to protest, and he pressed his fingers to her lips. They were soft and damp and he couldn’t wait to taste them. “Don’t argue, Josie. If you insist on keeping the gown on, then I insist that the light stays on.” He lifted a dark brow. “Care to change your mind?”
“No,” she said, the one word vibrating against his fingertips.
The resolute emotions he saw radiating in the depths of her eyes should have put him on alert, but he was confident that just like the day he’d kissed her in the kitchen, he could make her want him again. Despite everything that had happened in the past, despite everything that stood in the way of their future, there was a chemistry between them that burned like wildfire when they touched. He wanted to loose himself in that heat, and he wanted her to be with him all the way when he did so.
He slid his fingers from her mouth and along her cheek, savoring the satiny texture of her skin, then buried his hand into her warm, vibrant hair until his palm cupped the back of her head. Her lashes fluttered closed, and she lay unresponsive and slack. The one arm nearest him was pressed against her side and his chest, and the other was crooked so her hand rested by the side of her face. Her fingers curled slightly inward, giving the impression that she was totally relaxed. Asleep even.
He knew better. She was attempting to feign disinterest, and that was something he wouldn’t tolerate when he knew just how responsive she could be. He lowered his head, settling his mouth over hers in a soft, gentle kiss. She didn’t resist his advance, but neither did she participate. He added a subtle pressure, and her lips automatically parted to receive his tongue, allowing him to deepen the kiss. He swirled, dipped and cajoled, but she didn’t join in on the seductive foray, just let him have his way with her mouth. He could have been sucking on a peach for all the involvement she put forth.
He lifted his head and stared down at her impassive face. Her restraint was admirable, and annoying as hell. It also spurred him to ruthless measures. Keeping his fingers tangled in her hair, he continued to kiss her, the slow, deep, intimate kind designed to entice and arouse. He slid his open mouth along her jaw, her neck, tasting his way to the sensitive spot just below her ear.
He thought he felt a shiver ripple through her, but couldn’t be sure since she showed no outward enjoyment of his seduction. But she would, of that he was certain.
He distracted her with gentle love bites along her throat while deftly unbuttoning the front of her gown to her waist. He slid his hand inside the opening over her collar bone, skimmed slowly downward, and heard a sharp, surprised gasp catch in her throat.
He lifted his head and smiled at the tight clench of her jaw. Ah, his bride wasn’t as indifferent as she tried to let on. Stroking his palm along her warmed skin, he parted the flannel, exposing one plump breast that swelled and tightened as he watched. He rasped his thump over the tip, and it instantly hardened. Unable to stop the deep, needy groan rumbling in his chest, he dipped his head and nuzzled the fragrant hollow between her breasts, dragged his open mouth along one slope and drew a taut nipple into the hot, wet depths of his mouth.
The hand at the side of her head curled into a tight fist, and her breathing deepened, making her chest rise and fall rapidly. Still she didn’t move, didn’t touch him, didn’t respond the way a woman should when her body was so obviously in tune to her lover’s. Her expression remained emotionless.
The first stirring of discontent gripped him, but he refused to admit defeat so early. “You’re so determined not to enjoy this, aren’t you, Josie?” he rasped mockingly.
She didn’t answer, but he didn’t really expect her to. She’d managed to withdraw mentally from the situation, but he took a little satisfaction in the fact that she hadn’t been able to shut down her physical response to him.
Taking advantage of that one small concession, he purposefully moved his hand over her flannel-clad hip, down to her thigh and slowly dragged the hem of her gown upward until he had the material bunched around her waist.
He’d managed to unveil most of her body, baring her lush breasts and the sleek length of her hips, thighs and legs. He smiled grimly. She could issue no justifiable protest of his indiscreet actions, either; she was still wearing the blasted gown!
He realized he would have welcomed the verbal sparring over her complacent behavior.
He brushed his fingers over her flat belly, and her flesh quivered beneath his touch. Pleased with that small victory, he lifted his gaze to her face to watch for an emotional response and leisurely trailed his fingers lower. Tracing the edge of her cotton panties around to her hip, he slipped his hand inside the elastic band and glided his warm palm over her smooth bottom. He gave the flesh a gentle, kneading squeeze.
She bit her bottom lip, and the pulse at the base of her throat thrummed wildly.
He gritted his teeth, his irritation mounting. Shifting closer, he pushed his hard thigh between hers, making her legs part to make room for him, though he didn’t move completely over her. Lifting one of her legs over his hip, he added a rhythmic pressure to that sensitive, feminine haven. Slow and easy he rocked against her, mimicking the motions of a more intimate joining. Desire coiled low in his belly, and he grew impossibly hard with wanting her.
She arched toward him subtly and whimpered, then valiantly swallowed back the sound.
He swore, at her, at himself, and the situation.
He didn’t want a wife who merely accommodated him for the sake of appeasing his more baser needs. He wanted Josie to ache like he ached. He wanted her to be as uninhibited as she’d been eleven years ago, holding nothing back. As selfish as it was, he wanted all the passion he knew she was capable of giving. All of her heat. All her desire. Unconditionally. Freely. Openly. And until he had her on equal terms, needing him as much as he needed her, he didn’t want her at all.
A low growl of frustration rumbled in his chest, and he pushed himself onto his back and rested a forearm over his eyes, breathing slow, steadying breaths in an attempt to cool his erection and his temper. The longer he laid there and contemplated the situation, though, the angrier he became. He’d been gentle, and willing to give Josie every pleasure, and she’d outright rejected him.
Abruptly, he rolled back onto his arm so his body was pressed against hers, so she could feel the hard, unmistakable evidence of his desire. Taking her chin between his thumb and forefinger, he turned her head toward his.
“I know you’re not sleeping, Josie, so open your eyes,” he said with a forced calm, though his voice was laced with enough steel that she obeyed.
Her lashes drifted open, her eyes a bright shade of green. “What?” she questioned softly, as if she were the injured party in this debacle of a wedding night.
Her demure act made him even more furious, and he managed, just barely, to hold his escalating temper in check. “I’ve never had to
force you to make love before, and I’m not about to start now. You won this round, Josie, but tonight is nothing but a brief reprieve. We will make love, and the next time I’ll expect your full cooperation.”
She didn’t utter a word, but then she didn’t have to. Her gaze all but snapped with defiance.
He smiled, and played his trump card. “Keep in mind, Josie, darlin’, this marriage isn’t legal until we consummate it. And in order to consummate our union, it’s going to take both of us participating.”
Her feisty rebellion dimmed; it was obvious she hadn’t considered everything she stood to lose by being so uncooperative in their marriage bed.
Deciding to let her sleep on that, he yanked the sides of her nightgown together to cover the temptation he wouldn’t be enjoying that night and pushed the hem back into place. He turned off the lamp on his night stand, then returned to her, circling an arm around her waist and tucking his still aroused body along hers. She tensed, but didn’t complain or struggle away.
Sleep was a long time in coming for both of them.
He’d underestimated Josie’s ability to remain apathetic, and that rankled Seth more than he cared to admit. He’d gone to sleep in a surly mood, though getting a few hour’s rest hadn’t improved his disposition any. He’d slipped out of bed before the crack of dawn, taken a much needed cold shower, and headed down to the stables, not wanting to be anywhere near Josie until he’d decided what to do with his stubborn bride.
Saturday it had been easy to avoid her. There had been a fence down in the west end and it had taken the day to restore it. Seth had joined in on the repair, as much to give Mac and the other men an extra pair of hands as to show his employees that he had no qualms about working hard on the Golden M. What he expected of his hands, he expected of himself, and he’d proved at least that much with his efforts, and gained their respect in the process.
He stayed out on the range even after the other hands had headed in for the day, herding stray cattle and familiarizing himself with the boundaries of the Golden M. The sense of rightness had calmed him somewhat, but not enough to diminish the unsettling emotions from the previous night’s escapade.
When darkness forced him to return, he’d spent more time than necessary cleaning tack. Kellie had brought him a plate of meatloaf, vegetables and rolls for dinner and chatted with him while he’d eaten. He’d enjoyed her company, and had to smile when she’d told him that she’d smuggled the food out to him. Apparently, when Kellie had expressed her concern about him not showing up for supper, Josie had told her when he was hungry enough, he’d come in and fix his own meal.
At least he had an ally in Kellie.
When he’d finally returned to the main house hours later, the structure had been dark and quiet. Kellie was in bed, and when he entered Josie’s room he’d found her huddled beneath the covers, pretending slumber. He’d taken a long hot shower, slipped into bed without putting any briefs on, and snuggled close to Josie. She’d been wearing that dreaded flannel again, but he was too exhausted to engage in a battle for her to take it off so she could gradually get used to them being skin to skin.
She’d flinched when he’d pulled her against his chest, gasped and attempted to squirm away when he’d brazenly cupped his hand over her breast.
“Settle down, Josie,” he’d murmured in her ear. “I’m too damn tired to demand my husbandly rights tonight.” It was an outright lie, considering how a certain part of his anatomy had eagerly leapt to life the moment he’d touched her.
He’d spent the entire night like that, and the next morning’s routine had been no different than the previous. Up early. Cold shower. Out of the house before Josie woke. He’d skipped breakfast, and his stomach was growling fiercely, reminding him that he was a man who liked three hearty meals a day. Mid-morning was rapidly approaching. Soon, he’d be forced up to the main house to slap together a couple of sandwiches.
Something had to give between him and Josie, and he felt as though he’d given plenty and for the most part exhibited the patience of a saint where Josie was concerned. He was willing to set past grudges aside, so why couldn’t she at least meet him half way? Or was she trying to make his life so miserable he’d ask for a divorce and forfeit the Golden M back to her?
“Not a chance, sweetheart,” he muttered to himself. No way would he give up something that offered him so much security, and a future he alone had the power to shape. He’d lived under the pressure of his father’s thumb for more years than he cared to remember, then endured his brother’s manipulations as well.
He was finally his own man, broken free of the O’Connor influence and domination. That kind of freedom certainly tasted sweet, and now that he had it, he wasn’t willing to give it up.
Stabbing his pitch fork into a hay bale, he tore it apart and evenly distributed the pieces of dried alfalfa into the stall he’d just cleaned out for Lexi. Briefly, he wondered what Josie planned to do today, then just as quickly told himself he didn’t care.
Booted steps echoed down the corridor in the stable, and Seth stopped his brusque movements with the pitchfork to listen. The gait was slow but firm, not the clipped, efficient sound he’d come to associate with Josie’s steps. He was irritated to realize he was disappointed.
Stepping outside the stall, he saw Mac casually strolling down the aisle. The foreman glanced in an occupied stall and doled out a treat to the horse within.
Seth frowned, not in the mood to fraternize with anyone. “What are you doing here?”
“Howdy, boss,” Mac said congenially, and gave another mare a slice of apple along with an affectionate rub on her snout. “Just checkin’ on things, like I do every Sunday afternoon for Josie.”
“There’s no need for you to do that any longer.” Seth appreciated the man’s loyalty, but he was more than capable of handling any problems that arose. And he’d be right on hand, considering he spent most of his time in the stables. “Take the day off and spend it with your wife.”
Mac crooked a graying brow his way. “You should be doing the same.”
Seth’s smile was half-hearted. “My wife doesn’t want my company.”
A grin split the older man’s weathered face. “Uh-oh, trouble in paradise already?”
Seth’s answer was a plain and simple grunt of disgust. He wasn’t willing to elaborate beyond that.
Mac, however, had no qualms pursuing the issue. “Considering your grouchy mood yesterday, I figured your wedding night didn’t go as planned.”
Seth blanched inwardly. Great, had his sex life, or lack thereof, been the topic of discussion yesterday when he hadn’t been around? “Just leave it alone, old man.” Not caring where this conversation was heading, he propped his pitchfork against the stall and headed toward the tack room.
“Seems to me you don’t know the way of women,” Mac offered absently as Seth stalked past. “Especially one like Josie.”
Seth came to an abrupt stop and whirled around. Everything that had accumulated over the past week—frustration, anger, bitterness—finally boiled to a head. “Oh, I know Josie all right,” he said, his voice heated with resentment. “Better than you, or anyone else thinks!”
Mac took off his aged leather hat and slapped it against his thigh, calmly digesting that information. “I suppose what’s between the two of you is really none of my business-”
“No, it’s not,” Seth said succinctly. The last thing he wanted, or needed, was someone meddling in his relationship with Josie.
“But I’m going to tell you what I think anyway.”
Seth ground his teeth and told himself to walk away, but something kept him rooted to the spot.
“Josie has been through a lot in the past ten or so years,” Mac began, stepping up to the next stall to give the mare within her share of attention. “She’s had a child on her own and raised that little baby into a sweet young girl. She’s endured remarks about Kellie’s parentage, and she doesn’t date because men expect more from her tha
n she’s willing to give, if you know what I mean.”
Seth knew exactly what Mac meant, but he wasn’t to blame for Josie’s past indiscretions. “What does all this have to do with me?”
“Maybe it has more to do with you than you think.” He cast a casual glance Seth’s way. “The two of you were seeing each other some years ago, weren’t you?”
Seth’s body tensed at the question, but he saw no point in lying about the gossip that had circulated around town. His father’s anger over Seth’s involvement with Josie had overridden discretion, and after a few drinks anyone within earshot had heard David O’Connor grousing about his son making time with Josie McAllister.
“Yeah, we spent some time together,” he admitted.
“She’s was pretty broken-hearted when you broke things off.”
Seth scoffed at that. All he’d seen from Josie the past week was a cold, frosty heart. But there had been a time when she’d been warm and sweet . . . “What happened between us wasn’t just about me,” he said, annoyed that he felt the need to defend himself over what had clearly been Josie’s duplicity. She’d used him, not the other way around!
“No?”
Seth didn’t care for the other man’s penetrating stare. “No,” he stated firmly. “There are circumstances you obviously don’t know about.”
“Maybe,” Mac said vaguely.
Seth jabbed a finger in the foreman’s direction. “Don’t make me out to be the bad guy.”
“Oh, I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Mac conceded. “But you shouldn’t be heapin’ all the blame at Josie’s feet, either.”
Seth’s impatience climbed a few notches. “You’re talking in riddles, man, and making little sense.”
Frowning, Mac absently scratched his head. “That tends to happen when the years creep up on you.”
Seth didn’t believe the man for a second. Mac was old, but sharper than a tack. Was he insinuating that there was more to what happened between him and Josie than met the eye? Seth shook his head. The old man had no idea what had transpired eleven years ago! Had no idea that Jose had slept with him in an attempt to claim him, an O’Connor, as the father of her child. It was a sick sort of vengeance, but she hadn’t denied any of it.
The Cowboy's Gamble: Destined For Love Series Page 10