High Plains Wife

by Jillian Hart

  And it was stupid, too. The real solution was two doors down the hall from him—Mariah, lying asleep and peaceful in the dark. Probably wearing the white nightgown that flowed around her like a dream. It was a dream to think he could be with her, have the right to unfasten the tiny buttons at the collar and help himself to heaven.

  He closed his eyes. He was rock-hard. Blood thrummed through his groin, making his shaft so engorged there was no way to ignore it. Mariah had aroused him completely. Unlike he’d ever been before.

  Why did he want her so much? The sensation of her kiss remained a whisper on his lips. The heat of her skin, the warm weight of her breasts, the little sounds of pleasure she made…

  Remembering made desire explode through him, leveling his willpower like a dynamite blast, leaving him shaken and shattering any chance he had of falling asleep.

  He tossed the sheet off his restless, aroused body and marched in his drawers to the window. A quick shove against the stubborn frame and humid air breezed over him. Storm clouds nudged at the sickle moon, casting a half darkness over the land. Over his life.

  It’s a sign, man. A storm was brewing if he went against every shred of common sense he had, headed down the hall, flung open Mariah’s door and claimed her as his wife, his woman, his love. His. Forever and ever, until the end of time, until not even death could part them.

  That’s how he wanted her, with his entire body, his broken heart, his wounded soul. Every part of him ached for the haven only she could give him.

  And what good would come of that? His carnal hunger for Mariah was proof enough that he’d lost control of his cool detachment, the distant and convenient marriage he’d planned on. He’d blown that plan to bits, and now it was dust. Dead and gone and buried. And why? Because he didn’t know he’d want her like this. With a wanting that could make him weak and strong, incomplete and whole.

  He was tired of being alone. Of being broken and always in charge and always strong. Life was a tough place, and it wore on a man. Even a brave man. He did his best, heaven knew, but he felt like a man alone in the storm with lightning flashing and thunder clapping and rain on its way. With no one to care. No one to hold close and lose himself in and love the night through until he was strong enough to meet the new day. A man changed for the better.

  The wind swept his face and he watched the storm gather to the west. If the wind held, the storm would bypass them, hitting a good distance north. A distant thread of lightning stabbed into the black sky. He felt as dark as the night. Without hope, as if the light was being slowly snuffed out of him, the way the clouds blotted out the stars, leaving only a fathomless void in their place.

  Mariah. He turned toward the door before it opened. Moved toward her before he saw her standing in the threshold, her hair down. She was angelic temptation in her pure white nightgown, the buttons undone to show the upper swell of her breasts. She was a vision of beauty, a dream and too good for the likes of him. He reached for her anyway, pushed the door shut and pulled her into the room and into his arms where she belonged.

  He wasn’t alone anymore. He hugged her to his chest, loving how she felt against him, soft and female. Everything about her, her soft hair catching on his unshaven jaw, her hands splayed against the planes of his back, her breasts a pillowed heat against his chest, the slight curve of her stomach against his hard shaft. She had to feel it, and didn’t back away. She tilted her face toward his, and he needed no more invitation.

  His mouth covered hers. She was velvet heat and untried passion and sweet woman, and she moaned. Her fingers dug into his back as she held on, surrendering to his kiss. His possession. She was so incredible, so tender. He needed her so much. Overwhelmed, hungry for her and only her, he cupped her face with his hands. Kissed her hard, taking the comfort she offered. The sweet comfort that burned like a lone candle in a dark night.

  “I’m so glad you came.” He crushed her to him, burying his face in her hair.

  “I wasn’t sure if you would want me.”

  “Of course I want you, Mariah. There’s never been a question about that.” The choice was out of his hands.

  It was as if this moment had been written in stone long ago. As if fate knew at this moment in time he’d need her more than air. He couldn’t take the pain, the sadness or the loneliness one moment longer. He’d been alone for years, unwanted.

  And here Mariah was, come to him, wanting him.

  And he was going to have her. It wasn’t because she was a woman and available and naked beneath her nightgown that fueled his need. It was Mariah. Her touch. Her beauty. Her comfort. He needed her now, before he thought about it, before common sense showed up and intervened. And if he didn’t, he feared the loneliness tearing him apart would never end.

  The scant starlight painted her in shades of silver as he took her hand in his and led her to his bed. Right where he’d always wanted her. From the first moment he’d cast his gaze on her in the schoolroom when he’d been sixteen and new to town, he’d thought she was an angel. And the natural progression of that attraction could not be stopped. Not by her father then and not by his discipline now.

  He shouldn’t do this. It was wrong and he knew it, to want her like this. To need her with everything in him. The bed ropes groaned as she sat on the edge of the feather tick, angel and woman, seductress and healer. She knew what he wanted. It was plain to see the hard buds of her nipples against the thin cotton nightgown. And the knowledge in her eyes, dark with desire, as she pulled her nightgown over her head. The disappearing starlight saw a woman naked and perfect and impossible to resist.

  He went to her like a cougar on a hunt and kissed her hard. So she knew she was his. His wife, his love—and no other man’s. Ever. He crushed her hair in his fist, holding her mouth to his as he laid her down on the bed. She stretched out willingly, all soft, inviting woman. Vulnerable and naked and shivering with need.

  “I want you to love me,” she said into his kiss.

  “I already do,” he whispered against her lips. Then he hauled off his drawers and tossed them into the dark.

  Unable to turn back, knowing she didn’t want him to, he fit his knee between hers and opened her gently. Her soft thighs parted and he stretched out over her, never breaking their kiss. He settled onto her and knew he’d come home. Lying with her this way was exquisite. Like finding heaven and hell all in the same moment. The woman he needed to heal his soul would be the one thing that could destroy him.

  “Oh, yes,” she moaned as his hand curved down the length of her throat, rising into his touch like a cat being stroked. The starlight on her face showed a woman lost in sensation, needing his love.

  Did she hurt this way, too?

  “Mariah.” Her name was a broken sound.

  Like whiskey to flame, he ignited and burned. Touched her and kissed her and loved how her breathing changed. How her body softened, grew fuller, more welcoming. How she arched into his touch, moaned for it, became consumed by it. She cradled his head as he suckled her breasts and kissed them. She lifted up to his kisses on her stomach and along each rib. Sighed when his fingers skidded along the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He could feel her leg muscles tighten, unsure.

  “Just trust me,” he whispered against her belly, glancing up the length of her stomach and over the beautiful peaks of her breasts to her lovely face.

  “I’ve never…”

  “I know, but I have.” He knew that would make her smile, and it did. He had to reassure her. He had to make this count. He wouldn’t hurt her for the world.

  “Typical of you, Nick. I should have known you’d be twice as arrogant when you had me naked in your bed.”

  “Not arrogant. Lucky. I’m one fortunate man to have you for my wife.”

  It was as if he’d torn through her rib cage, plunged inside and grabbed hold of her heart. Tears burned in Mariah’s eyes. “I’m lucky, too. You’re a good man.”

  “If I were a good man, I wouldn’t be doing this
. Taking advantage of you.”

  He looked tortured, his brow furrowed, his eyes darkened. His heart ached. She could feel it. She reached out to place her hand there, in the center of his chest, over the pain.

  “You’re not taking, Nick. I’m giving.”

  He closed his eyes. His throat worked. She could feel the struggle inside him. See it in the sharp way he breathed. In the tendons cording in his neck. Then, decision made, he grabbed her jaw, and kissed her with a tender passion that melted every bone in her body. His hands parted her thighs, leaving her open and exposed and more vulnerable than she’d ever been. She fell back on the bed, closed her eyes and gasped.

  His thumb traced the crease between her extreme upper thigh and eased upward. White-hot pleasure spilled into her where he was touching her. He wasn’t only caressing her body, but also the center of her, the core of her, and she opened to him like a spring flower to the morning sun. Eager. Defenseless. Hungry. This is what the women in her clubs had talked about. This liquid pleasure. This heartbreaking thrill.

  She never wanted it to end. Her eyes drifted shut, her hips arched, lifting her into the palm of his hand. His touch warmed her like the midsummer sun. Stirred to life feelings so dormant she’d thought them dead. Her chest ached with it, her soul hurt with it. She clung to Nick’s steely arms as he came to her, easing his weight onto his elbows, his big, hard, male body on hers. She opened to him, accepting his open-mouthed kisses, welcoming the first hard nudge of him into her body.

  She gasped at the intrusion. A push of hot steel that did not yield. She was going to break apart, not just her body, but her heart. It was too much, this first thrust, the amazing presence of him within her. It hurt, but not the way she thought it would. It hurt in her heart. She felt as if she were unraveling. It was too much. Her body twined around his, open and clinging and craving him like winter dreams of the sun, and she was afraid. Afraid to let him into her heart. She was afraid to love him wholly and truly. What if she wasn’t enough?

  “Trust me, sweetheart.” He pressed his forehead to hers, a tender comfort. Kissed the tip of her nose, a gentle touch. “I’ll take good care of you.”

  “You always do.”

  His kiss was a promise, caring and true. He wouldn’t hurt her. She trusted him. Whatever came from this, whether she disappointed him or not, she wanted to know this man’s love. To feel him deep inside her, to hold him in the greatest intimacy. He was a steady pressure against her tightness, and she let go, opening to him, releasing the last shred of her fear.

  “That’s right,” he murmured against her mouth. “Are you okay?”

  “Great.” She choked on the tears in her throat. Opening more. Letting the hard iron of him sink deep until he was wedged so completely inside her neither of them could move.

  “Still doin’ okay?” His gaze searched hers.

  “Y-yes.” She leaned her forehead into the hollow of his throat so she wouldn’t have to look at him.

  This was too much, this joining, being stretched around him. It was too much pleasure, too much sensation, too much emotion in her heart that felt as if it was breaking. How could being in love with him shatter her heart?

  He pulsed inside her, that hardness thrumming against her, stretching her more. Amazingly, she pulsed around him, too, a pleasure so sweet and painful it brought tears to her eyes.

  “Let me see you, pretty lady.”

  She could no longer hide. He would look upon her face and see all that she felt for him. Every scrap of love. Every bit of devotion. He would see her heart. How could she let him? He didn’t love her, not yet. He wasn’t free of his past.

  “C’mon, beautiful.” His thumb grazed her cheek, a tender request.

  She could see the dark pool of his eyes in the shadowed darkness. She could feel the intense pull as he studied her. Exposed and wide open, she trembled deep, from the outside in.

  He moved, stroking away and thrusting home. A purely physical act that wasn’t physical at all. It was so much more as she held him inside her. They trembled together. A curve of a smile touched his mouth as their gazes met and locked. He didn’t look away as he stroked again, harder this time, withdrawing only to return.

  Incredible. She thrummed with it, felt wild and calm at once. His forehead met hers and he stayed, holding inside her. She was so full of him, overwhelmed by him. He filled her senses. His hardness, his strength, his heat, his breathing, his weight, his kiss. She couldn’t seem to breathe, so she clung to him, feeling as if she were ready to shatter apart and lose herself.

  All she felt was him. The man he was, good and true. He thrust again, driving unbearable pleasure straight through her. She clung to him, helpless, and everything within her stilled. She buried her face in the hollow of his throat, overwhelmed, feeling the cracks in her heart widen. She was breaking, falling, afraid. She held on, feeling his kiss to her brow, his touch at her nape. He cradled her tenderly as he rocked them beyond pleasure and into something else.

  I love you, Nick. She loved him more than anything. More than her life. She could feel his face in her hair, kissing her as they came together again and again, slow and tender and incredible. He tipped her face to his and kissed her deeply. Tender as his lips played with hers. So incredibly tender. She could feel his affection for her, hidden quietly in his heart. Could he feel hers?

  They made love as if they had all the time in the world. Wanting nothing else but each other. There was only the two of them, bound together, close…so very close. Mariah cried out as he set a faster rhythm, thrusting hard and deep. Surprised how the intense rush of pleasure moved through her into him and back to her. Tears filled her eyes as she broke apart inside, shattering into a thousand pieces, in a huge wave of sharp pleasure that decimated the wall of ice around her heart. That left her open completely to him as he moved inside her, driving so deep their hearts touched.

  “Mariah.” He said her name with a shiver, sighing hard as his back stiffened and he lost control.

  She held him tight and accepted the hot rush of his seed. Tenderness raged through her, and kissing him wasn’t enough. Holding him like this didn’t bring her close enough. She felt broken and whole. Lost and found.

  He collapsed, his face buried in her hair, so vulnerable. Mariah kissed his temple, so tender. She ran her fingertips over his neck to the crown of his head, gently. Her body thrummed around his thickness still inside her. She was full of him, her heart aching from loving so deeply. She hugged him while he rested. Kissed the shell of his ear and loved how he shivered in response. He was hers now. Her man. Her love.

  “We’re joined forever, beauty, just forever,” he mumbled as he climbed back onto his elbows.

  He thrust hard, driving deep, so good. His hand settled on her hip, showing her how to rock with him. How to increase their pleasure. So incredible. How she loved this man. She felt wild with it, calm with it, accepting his kisses, giving more of her heart. Nick was amazing, such a man. And she tried to keep her heart open, to accept all he wanted to give her. It was more than sex now, a different kind of togetherness, and Mariah held him inside her body and inside her heart, letting him in where she was most vulnerable. She loved him. That much.

  He was touching her face, talking to her, gazing into her eyes to her soul. There was love for him there, too, that deep down. It hurt too much and felt too much, and she hid her face in his shoulder and held on tight. She was overwhelmed by her love for him. There were his strong arms around her and his kiss in her hair as he rocked them both, hard and gentle. They came together and he emptied into her, more than his body, all he was. She felt the depth of his love for her. As deep as hers was for him.

  His arms came around her, cuddling her close, holding her to his heart. She held him in hers, grateful in the contented silence that settled between them.

  So, this is what love is. She pressed kisses along the outer curve of Nick’s neck and along the crest of his shoulder. His skin was damp with sweat and tasted salty an
d wonderful. Her heart ached, strangely full.

  She didn’t know love could make you new.

  “Are you all right, sweetheart?” he mumbled into her hair.

  She nodded, too happy to speak.

  He kissed her forehead, infinitely tender. It was a kiss he meant. She could feel it.

  He loved her.

  She held him tight. I love you, too.

  “Is it all right if I stay here inside you?” His palm stroked over the side of her head, tender and possessive.

  Nice. She nodded again, snuggling against him. He was hers. Hers to love. Hers to touch. Hers to kiss if she wanted to. Just to prove it, she stroked a kiss across the underside of his chin.

  “Hmm, you don’t want this to end, do you?” He smiled down at her lazily.

  “Does it have to?” Was he going to love her again? Desire curled strong and hot within her, and she felt him swell inside her. Tenderly, she kissed him again.

  “Mariah, you don’t know what you’re doing.” He tensed, his hand freezing on her hip.

  “I do now.” She was sheer seduction, in the way real love was, as she caressed the curve of his jaw with her lips.

  Desire ripped through him with the fury of a cyclone’s leading wind, and Nick fought for control. Fought to hold on. He didn’t want to. It was wrong, but he was already hard, already thrusting. Mariah’s head rolled back and he caught it in his hands. He cradled her while she moaned in the pleasure they made together. Moving as one heart, one soul, with only their love to guide them on this bleak night as the starlight faded and wind tapped against the siding.

  He held on to her and let the darkness take him.

  The bed shifted and Mariah drifted awake. For a second she was disoriented and then she realized she was in Nick’s bed. Alone. The rustling she heard was him as he pulled on his trousers. “Are you all right?”