by Anthology
Her eyes opened, and the bedazzled brilliance in the rainbow of colors struck him dead center, as did her whisper. “Yes, Morgan, let’s start over.” She giggled then, and pressed a hand to her breast, making him wonder if her heart was taking flight as his was. “Oh, goodness,” she said breathlessly as a crimson blush appeared on her cheeks. “This must be how a bride feels.”
That, too, struck Morgan. She’d been married twice, and though he didn’t know what her wedding night with Orville had been like, the one she’d experienced with him wasn’t what it should have been. Second chances were hard to come by, and he was going to treasure this one.
Nathan let out a loud yawn as he toddled toward them, leaving a scattering of blocks across the carpet in his wake. He laid his head on Morgan’s knee and looked up at Cora with glassy eyes. “Teepy,” he murmured.
“You’re sleepy?” Cora asked, ruffling the child’s hair.
“Mmm-hmm,” Nathan said.
Morgan shifted, lifted the child off the floor. “You mind putting him to bed?” he asked. Heat crept into his neck, along with a bit of bride-groom nervousness he never knew existed. “I...uh...should take a bath myself.” He nodded toward the stove. “I heated more water.”
She stood, took Nathan in her arms. “No, I don’t mind putting him to bed.”
Morgan stood as well and reached down to retrieve the bucket she’d set near the tree earlier.
“Morgan,” she said from behind him. “Holler if you want some help.”
The bucket clattered across the floor. Morgan raced after it, wondering for a moment if the tree would hit the floor for a second time today. Bucket in hand, and tree still standing, he turned around. The air held the snap and crackle of excitement, anticipation. She lifted both brows, smiled coyly and shrugged.
The laugh that burst inside him had him tossing his head back. Life with her was going to be something. That was sure. And he didn’t want to miss a moment of it. Ever. When he arrived at the stove, he set the bucket on the counter, next to the remnants of his star making. The crude cut tin of his first few attempts shimmered in the lamplight, as if they too held a spark of holiday cheer, even as cast-asides, and that touched him, deeply, like something infinitely precious. Very few things were perfect the first time around. His gaze instantly went across the room. Cora was at Nathan’s bed, but facing him, watching him closely.
He grinned, and winked. “I do believe Christmas has arrived early, Mrs. Palmer.”
The ranch hands as well as folks in town had called her Mrs. Palmer, but Morgan never had. The sound, the way he said it, made Cora so giddy she almost dropped Nathan. Lowering the child onto his bed, she grinned as her heart went right on tumbling end over end. It was when she straightened that she realized the weight on her shoulders was gone, not even a residue remained. Add that to the fact she no longer needed to conceal her feelings for her husband, and the world took on a whole new wonder for her. Gazing across the room, knowing her eyes were full of what some might declare worship, she nodded. “I do believe you’re right, Mr. Palmer.”
While Morgan carried fresh water to the tub, Cora tucked Nathan between the covers, and after picking up the blocks scattered across the room, she settled herself on the edge of the bed to tell him a story. Since most of her attention was on the sounds behind the screen, she lost her place in the bedtime tale and, having no idea what she’d said last, had to start over more than once.
Her lack of concentration didn’t seem to faze Nathan, and she really had no idea when he fell asleep because her eyes were on the screen, irritated they couldn’t see through the partition. It was the child’s slow, even breathing that made her glance his way. Excited beyond belief—it usually took two or three stories before her son gave in—she kissed his forehead and rose from the bed.
As if they had glue on the bottom, her feet remained where she stood. How forward could she be? She really had no experience in such things, widowed or not. Orville had always initiated their mating, and she’d complied. Not only had it been her duty, she’d owed Orville for his kindness, his generosity. This—what she felt for Morgan—was completely different. She wanted to give herself to Morgan. Wanted to share their love. She pressed a hand against her midriff, where vibrations stirred hungrily. The overwhelming sense of passion rearing itself within her was like some sort of primal beast.
A smile lifted the corners of her mouth. Sweet, sensible Orville would have ducked for cover if she’d attacked him the way she wanted to attack Morgan. The splash of water sounded and her smile grew. Morgan was definitely not Orville, and she highly doubted anything would make him turn and run.
She blew out the lamp on the table and added logs to the fire before she moved to the tree, staring a moment at how the fireplace flames reflected off the tin star. “Merry Christmas,” she whispered.
A tinkle, far off in the recesses of the world, sounded. Most likely it was her imagination, as was the equally soft, equally magical answering, Merry Christmas.
A tremble caught her, not of chill or fear, but of exhilaration. She spun, her feet barely touching the floor. It was as if they moved a few inches above the boards as she drifted around the partition wall.
With both hands Morgan scrubbed his face, splaying water this way and that. She took advantage of his blindness and scooted around to the back side of the tub. Water dripped from the ends of his hair and made tiny trails down his broad back. Cora knelt down and placed both hands on his shoulders, near the base of his neck. He stiffened for a second and then relaxed. The tenseness of his muscles seemed to melt beneath her fingers, and she began to gently massage the bulk of his shoulders and upper back.
“Mmm,” he moaned, “that feels wonderful.”
“Yes, it does,” she agreed. Her fingertips pressed deeper into his skin, as if they could somehow absorb him. After thoroughly kneading the muscles, she moved her hands along his shoulders to his upper arms, rubbing and caressing every inch. He was as hard and solid as rock, yet as supple and pliable as bread dough.
He leaned his head back and the water from his wet hair penetrated the thin material of her gown. The action awoke the skin covering her breasts. They tingled and her nipples throbbed as they tightened. She bent forward, drawing his head against her cleavage, and ran a line of kisses down the side of his face. Her arms wrapped around him and her fingers combed through the curls on his chest. He was massive, strong and powerful, yet underneath, he was flesh and blood, no different from her. Leastwise, she hoped her touch had his skin tingling as much as hers was.
“Maybe,” she whispered between kisses, “I should check you for scrapes and bruises from when the woodpile toppled.”
He twisted, kissed the underside of her jaw. “I don’t have any cuts or bruises.”
“Are you sure?” She plunged her hands beneath the water, caressing the tight muscles of his stomach. “I could kiss them for you.”
He caught her hands before they slipped lower. “Cora.” His voice was husky and hushed, and sent a delightful thrill clear to her toes. “Do you want to torture me?”
She nipped his shoulder with her teeth and then slid her tongue over the skin. “You know what I want, Morgan Palmer.”
With remarkable swiftness, he rose from the water, twisted and lifted her off the floor all at the same time. She let out a squeal and grabbed his shoulders. His hands were on her hips, where his firm but gentle grasp held her suspended. “Now, how would I know what you want, unless you’ve told me?” he asked, touching the end of her nose with his.
She stared into the blue eyes level with hers, wondering for a split second if he was serious. After all, her experience in such things was limited. A teasing, somewhat taunting grin appeared on his face. She took it as a challenge. Eager and more than willing to play along, she wrapped both arms around his neck. “Then I’ll have to tell you, won’t I?”
His brows arched.
Stopping her lips before they touched his, she whispered, “I want you,
Morgan.” Encouraged by his swift intake of breath, she kissed his upper lip. “Every bit of you.” Her tongue ran over his bottom lip, pulling back before he could catch it. “Inside me. On top of me. Loving me.” She drove home her last statement by lifting her legs and wrapping them around his torso. The skirt of her gown bunched up near her hips, and his hands caught her bottom, holding her against him, allowing his skin to fuse with hers.
“You want me, do you?” he asked, pulling her closer. His arousal touched her inner thigh and she pressed against it, seeing the pleasure in his face.
There was no doubt bliss was on her face as well. The friction was wonderful, had delicious flames scorching her skin. “Yes, I want you, Morgan Palmer,” she admitted freely, with no sense of shyness. “Like I’ve never wanted anything in my life.”
A desire-filled groan sounded between them, and Cora didn’t know if it was hers or his. Not that it mattered. She could feel his passion, knew it was as strong as hers.
“Aw, Cora, darling,” Morgan said, stepping over the tub. “I want you, too.”
Quivering, she tightened her thigh muscles, keeping their connection as he moved.
“I want you now. Today,” he said, kissing her forehead as he walked across the room. “Tomorrow.” His lips trailed down her nose. “Next week.” His kisses continued, catching her lips, brushing her neck and the tip of her chin. “Next year, and the next, and the next.” He had her very bones aching with want. “And every moment in between,” he said as her back touched the cabin wall.
Divinely trapped between him and the wall, her parted legs cloaked his shaft, presenting a sweet mayhem she’d never guessed existed. “You do?” she asked, wondering if she’d survive much longer. The heat consuming her was vast and propelled her hips forward in a newly unearthed fashion.
His hips reacted, moving his shaft up and down her, the tip of him gliding through her patch of hair and touching the bottom of her stomach. “Oh, yes, I do,” he answered, kissing her once again.
The excitement and overwhelming stimulation made her gasp before she fixed her lips onto his. She drank his moisture as if dehydrated and devoured the inner recesses of his mouth with her tongue until she became breathless.
His lips slipped away, covering the sides of her face and neck with sweet, tender kisses that were almost her undoing. “Cora,” he whispered over and over again.
She understood. No word could form in her mind other than his name. “Morgan,” she whimpered several times while kissing his temple, his eyes and forehead. An indescribable desperation was building inside her, creating an unfathomable havoc.
Just when she thought she might burst, he pulled her away from the wall, and without disrupting how she rode, carried her across the room. When they arrived at the bed, he bent, gently lowering her onto the mattress. Her body bucked as his slipped away, and she grabbed his shoulders.
He kissed her mouth again. “I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart, ever.”
A sudden wave of fear rippled her chest, and she dug her nails into his skin. She needed him so badly. Not just right now, but forever. All the miracles in the world couldn’t replace him. “Please, Morgan, promise you’ll never leave me, never, ever.”
The world stopped for a moment, hung there like a single star in the sky, as he took her by the waist with one arm and lifted her. He tossed the covers to the far side of the bed with his other hand, and then laid her back down. Morgan then knelt beside her. His eyes glimmered brilliantly, showered love as he gazed upon her, vowing, “I promise, Cora, I’ll never leave you.” He kissed her cheek. “Never.” While kissing the other cheek, he added, “Ever.”
The world was back on its axis, spinning so fast she grew dizzy. Tears of sweet joy pooled in her eyes. “I love you, Morgan.” Unable to control or understand the intensity of her emotions, she added, “I love you with a love I didn’t know could exist. It’s so deep, so...” Words couldn’t describe how she felt.
“So powerful you feel it in every inch of your body,” he finished for her.
“Yes. That’s it. How do you know?”
“Because it’s how I feel about you.”
Her heart threatened to explode. It simply couldn’t hold anymore. How many nights had she lain in this bed, shed tears into her pillow, wishing he loved her? To know he did was nothing shy of a miracle. No, he, this man, her husband, was the miracle. She placed a palm over his cheek. “Oh, Morgan, you make all my dreams come true.”
“I love you, Cora Palmer, and I always, always will,” he said seriously, but then his gaze went to her breasts and a teasing grin appeared on his face.
She loved it. It made her feel young and carefree. The want to taunt him in return couldn’t be contained. “Even when I’m old and gray and wrinkled and—”
“I’ll love you even more,” he whispered ardently, as he brushed a fingertip over one nipple straining against the thin chiffon material.
The touch reignited the fire inside her that settled into a smoldering heat when he laid her on the bed. “You will?”
His hands went to the hem of the gown twisted around her hips. He unwound it, inching it upward. Anticipation of lying next to him, unclothed, overtook her mind, had her wiggling, aiding him as he relieved her of the nightdress.
“I will,” he said.
Somewhat mindless, she asked, “Will what?”
“Love you even more.”
Incapable of waiting, she sat up, raising her arms for him to lift the gown over her head. “And I’ll love you even more,” she whispered. “I’ll love you even more.”
Chapter Seven
Morgan tossed the gown aside, oblivious to where it landed. Life literally surged through his body. He’d never been more alive, more driven to participate in existence.
Cora’s hands touched his shoulders, and she pulled him forward. “Kiss me, Morgan,” she implored, “kiss me until I can’t be kissed anymore.”
“Now, how’d you know I wanted to do that?” he asked, loving how she rose to his teasing.
“I read your mind,” she quipped.
More than willing and able to comply, he kissed the tip of her nose. “Then you know I plan on kissing you for years to come.” He captured her mouth, and drank until he was dizzy and burning with a desire so strong it had to be deadly.
Easing her backward, he kissed her chin. “I intend to kiss you here,” he said as the ability to speak returned. “And here,” he added, kissing her cheek.
“Oh,” she cooed, sinking deep into the mattress.
He chuckled, running kisses along her chin and neck. “Definitely here,” he said, nibbling on her ear. He ran his hands over the sleek, ultrafine skin covering her collarbone and lower until the marvelous mounds of her breasts filled his palms. “And here,” he said, kissing the span of her shoulder while the pads of his thumbs played with her nipples.
She trembled beneath the touch and moaned a sigh he deduced came from extreme pleasure. “Aw, yes,” he whispered, “I must kiss you here.” He took one of the rosy peaks into his mouth. She gasped and stiffened a touch.
Her back arched, thrusting the mound deeper into his mouth, even though she said, “But, Morgan, you shouldn’t kiss—”
“Yes, I should,” he assured, gliding his lips across her breasts. “I’m kissing away your bumps and bruises.”
A tiny giggle floated in the air. “I don’t have any bumps and bruises.”
“You don’t?” he asked, twirling his tongue around one nipple.
“No.” Her fingers combed through his hair, massaging his scalp.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.”
With his lips he pinched the tip of the breast, and Cora let out a charming moan. Arching her back again, her hands pressed his head downward.
Morgan continued suckling and kissing, introducing her to all the pleasures awaiting them as man and wife. While his hands roamed her sides and her belly, the insides of her thighs, he whispered to her, fully e
njoying in her delight, how she encouraged his every movement. Her excitement, enthusiasm and downright eagerness heightened the nuances of every touch, every kiss.
As his fingers fluttered to the channel where her thighs met, she spread her legs, giving him sweet permission to continue his exploration. He used his fingers, stroking and cajoling her hot, wet core until she was writhing and quaking.
“Morgan,” she pleaded, “I—I... Oh, goodness, you—”
“I love you,” he stated as he lifted his mouth from her breasts and used his tongue to blaze a trail to where his fingers played.
She bucked when his mouth took over for his fingers. He caught her hips, lifting her for more access. A feverish delirium overtook when she shuddered and quivered as he tasted her core. Immersed in her essence, completely occupied with her pleasure, he slipped his arms under her legs and lifted them until her knees fell over his shoulders.
The muscles in her thighs squeezed against his head and he snuck his thumb near the base of her folds, stroking while still suckling. Her body bucked and strained, yet he continued, increasing his speed and pressure with every thrust of her hips. He could feel her climbing and climbing, and when she reached the summit, the peak he’d wanted her to find, she leaned forward, dug her hands into his hair.
“Morgan!” she cried as her body convulsed. Seconds later, still quivering and trembling, she groaned sweetly, “Oh, Morgan.”
Smiling, he kissed his way back up her body, stalling at her glorious, glistening breasts for a few moments. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips curled into a satisfied grin. “You told me to kiss you until you couldn’t be kissed anymore,” he teased.
She lifted her lids and her smile grew as her eyes fluttered shut again. “I did, didn’t I?”
It took every ounce of discipline he had to stretch out beside her on the mattress and do nothing more than run a finger down the side of her face and under her chin. She was so beautiful, so wonderful. He’d never tire of looking at her, watching her. “Yes, you did.”
She rolled her head, looking at him with what he’d call the gaze of worship. He called it that because it was the exact way he looked at her.