“Yes, you made that real clear back at the diner. I’d bet half the town knows that Jethro McKinnon has gotten saddled with an unwanted outsider for a bride by now,” she seethed, her eyes bright with anger as she relived the embarrassment of being ridiculed by him in front of a diner full of people. She always hated being the center of attention, and she knew she carried a few more emotional scars on her soul from their exchange at the restaurant. She wanted to scratch his eyes out for that injustice. “Of course the way I heard things, no decent woman in your neck of the woods would have you and your godawful attitude. Your poor mother was forced to look out of state for a marital match!” she taunted, desperately wanting to inflict a few wounds of her own on the infuriating man.
Unfortunately, her verbal blow had zero effect on Jethro. In fact, he seemed to find it humorous, if his proud smile was anything to go by. “I worked real hard at being a bad marital risk, Tidbit, and I got the job done.”
“Huh?” Orla grunted, confused.
“If I had wanted a wife, I could have had one any time I wanted, darlin’,” Jethro informed her as he steered the truck off the main highway onto a gravel road. Sparing her a glance, he winked. “I just didn’t want any of those gals. When you’ve got as much money as I do, women are easy to come by. Problem was, none of ‘em cranked my tractor.”
Orla eyes widened as she caught his meaning. Then, she decided nothing could be more fun than injuring his masculine pride. “Oh, you poor thing. Is your tractor defective?” she asked sweetly, shivering in her seat when he glanced sideways at her and grinned wickedly.
“Well, since we’re in that new, getting-to-know-you stage, I’ll let you in on a little something,” Jethro offered, his raspy voice sending a sizzle of feminine awareness down Orla’s spine while his fingers toyed with a spiral curl that had somehow escaped her ponytail, his warm fingers grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of her neck.
Trying to overlook how good it felt to have him so close to her, she shot him an unimpressed look and merely raised an eyebrow, telling herself to ignore the fact that arrogance looked good on her future husband. After all, she was the one that was going to be forced to live with his conceited butt if she decided to go through with this wedding. “Do tell,” she drawled, her eyes issuing him a silent challenge that she just knew he’d answer.
“Alright,” he declared with a ready nod as his truck crested a hill and a sprawling two-story farmhouse suddenly came into view. “The most important thing to know about me is that there’s two things in life I love, City Girl. Farming and fucking. And I will offer you a personal guarantee that there ain’t nothing wrong with my equipment in either field, but I can’t deny that I’m hopin’ you’ll ask me to prove my skill in at least one of those things. Care to guess which one I’m hopin’ you’ll choose?” he asked, turning his head to wink at her as he tugged gently at the strand of hair he held between his fingers.
Orla could feel her cheeks warming in response to Jethro’s frank words, and she silently cursed the fact that he could make her blush so easily. She didn’t want to give that impossible man one moment of satisfaction at her expense or a single piece of ammunition to use against her, but one look at his smug face told her that her cheeks must have been the color of a ripe tomato. She wasn’t sure she had ever heard that word he’d used before, although she had almost no doubt about what it meant. Fucking, she silently repeated to herself. It definitely sounded like something deliciously naughty.
Her roommate had been fond of making sure she was scandalized on a regular basis, so Orla was no stranger to wicked talk, and the conceited look on Jethro’s face when he’d used it only further convinced her that Jethro was referring to a very intimate, private pastime – evidently one he seemingly excelled at performing. Shifting uncomfortably against the aged seat, she felt the cracked leather drag against her leg. Pressing her lips together, she couldn’t deny that she was more than just a little fascinated by this peculiar man, but she also was aware that to keep the upper hand in their very young relationship, she needed to put him in his place. Narrowing her eyes, she snapped sharply, “I’ll thank you kindly to keep a civil tongue in your head. Such language has no place in a decent conversation. Especially a talk with the woman you intend to take to wife. And as for choosing one of your favorite things to demonstrate, I’m afraid you’ll just need to keep your tractor inside your barn since none of my fields have any desire to be plowed by someone as ornery as you!”
Jethro’s smile widened and his eyes danced as he offered her a look that closely resembled something akin to admiration. “Damn, Tidbit, you’re a spirited little filly, aren’t you? I think I’m lookin’ forward to tamin’ you. It’s already evident that you’re gonna offer me one hell of a rough ride,” Orla heard him choke out in a tone roughly approaching respectful as his loud guffaws continued to fill the cab of the farm truck.
Shooting him a dirty look, Orla hissed, “I am not a horse in need of breaking, Mr. McKinnon. I am a God-fearing woman that would appreciate it if you’d quit making indecent remarks in my presence,” she demanded, flushing when Jethro’s eyes heated and trailed down her body.
“Darlin’, I’m gonna impart some words of wisdom and I’d pay real close attention if I were you. This ain’t some kind of palace, and there ain’t no throne waitin’ for you up at the big house,” Jethro replied, gesturing out the windshield. “This here, it’s a working farm. The only thing waitin’ for you, Little Miss High and Mighty, are long days of back-breakin’ work and a husband that’ll honor his vows to you, but not much else. Truth is, I ain’t never been one to beat around the bush. Don’t see no point in sugarcoatin’ shit. And it ain’t never been no goal of mine to make decent conversation with anybody. I say what needs to be said and I never waste valuable time mincin’ my words. Not even for a pretty little package like you. If you’re looking for any form of southern civility, you best be jumping right out of this rusty old truck and onto the next bus bound for anywhere but here. I don’t give a dilly damn if you’re the Queen of England or a gutter rat, I am who I am and I won’t change for anybody. Now, you need to know all that ‘cause let me tell you, Tidbit, I always say what I mean and I mean what I say. And listen closely when I say this next part,” he informed her with a weighted, but soft voice as he leaned even closer to her, his hot breath fanning her neck as he spoke. “If you stay here on this farm with me, tonight and every night after, I’m gonna enjoy corruptin’ that sweet little body of yours. I’ll take my time and treat you good while I do it, but a man like me will want to take his pleasure and often. Hell, don’t worry none; I’ll make sure you love every minute of it, but rest assured, by mornin’, you’ll be one soiled little dove when I’m done dirtyin’ you up. The good news is the wedding band you’ll be wearing soon will even everything out in the Lord’s eyes. You can count on me to give you that, but the other side of the coin is I’m gonna want that sweet little body whenever the notion strikes. You clear?” he shared as he jerked the truck to a stop outside the white clapboard farmhouse and shoved the gear into park before tightening his arm around her shoulders and pulling her against his side.
Struck near dumb by his unflinchingly direct speech, Orla could only stare up into his determined face. “I… you… I’m not sleepin’ with you ‘til there’s a ring, Mr. McKinnon,” she asserted tightly as his arm contracted around her back and he dragged her closer.
“No worries, Tidbit,” he returned as his mouth descended over hers. “Won’t be much sleepin’ goin’ on anyway once I get you on your back. Now, let me show you how to use that agile little tongue of yours for something more satisfying than flappin’ our jaws,” his gruff voice invited darkly before he closed the distance completely between their lips.
Chapter Five
Jethro
Life is comprised of moments. Some are big. Some small. But all of them are unique to the person experiencing them. And the moment that Jethro’s lips fused to Orla’s, he knew his life had be
en irrevocably altered in a way he’d never escape.
She tasted like fucking cherries. Crisp, sweet, addictive, fresh picked off the tree cherries. The kind that he could eat by the handfuls when he’d been a kid. The kind that had left his teeth stained red, his belly full, and his heart happier than hell.
Yeah, she tasted like those fucking cherries.
And he wanted to consume every delicious drop of her.
Pulling the rubber band from her hair, he stabbed his hand through her silky locks, fisting his hand in the soft tresses as he gently bit down on her full lower lip. Swallowing her low squeal of surprise as his tongue snuck inside her mouth when she gasped, he smiled against her lips a few seconds later when she slowly melted against him, her arms slowly lifting to wind around his neck. It took a few more heartbeats to coax her tongue into shyly dancing with his, but when she did, she put her heart into it. He could taste her inexperience, but more than that, he could feel her excitement. And that excitement only fed his growing hunger for her.
“Thatta girl,” he murmured into her lips as her fingers clenched in his shirt, twisting the soft flannel and tugging him nearer. “Let me have all that wildness,” he urged, groaning deeply when he felt her swollen nipples drag against his chest through his shirt and she moved closer, straddling one of his legs and rubbing against him. Jethro tilted his head, deepening their kiss as he slid his hand up her body, enjoying the feel of her body beneath his hand. Finally reaching the curve of her breast, Jethro had barely gotten his hand curled around one of her firm, ripe globes when Orla’s conscience apparently caught up with her libido. Feeling Orla jerk against him, her hand caught at his as she tore her lips from his, hissing in an outraged breath.
“Mr. McKinnon! I beg your pardon!” she panted, her wide eyes frantic as she struggled for breath.
Offering her a wicked smile as her breasts heaved and her face turned scarlet red, Jethro deliberately licked his lips as he stared at her with predatory eyes. “Baby, you give me five more minutes and it won’t be my pardon I have you beggin’ me for,” he invited her huskily.
Jethro watched as Orla slowly blinked in response and watched as the young woman caught his meaning, her jaw dropping as both of her hands thumped against his chest.
“You… you… scoundrel!” she screeched at him, smacking his chest again when he merely laughed and tightened his arms around her. “Get off me, you no-good scalawag!”
“Now, darlin’, don’t go gettin’ your bloomers in a bunch. I don’t think any less of you for enjoyin’ a little light lovin’. You’ll have a wedding ring in two days’ time. I’m sure your moral compass will survive. ”
“You don’t think any less of me? I should certainly hope not since it was you that took liberties with me that were not offered!” Orla hissed, trying to scoot back in the seat and put some space between them. “Not to mention the fact that our marriage is no longer a foregone conclusion. I was lured here under false pretenses because YOU, sir, are not the groom I was promised.”
“Sweetheart, you might not have offered up your wares on a silver platter, but you gave me a sample all the same. I liked what I tasted, and you did, too. Don’t insult both me and the Almighty by lying and sayin’ that you didn’t. Those sweet sounds you made while you were dry humpin’ my leg assured both me and the Lord of that. You enjoyed havin’ my tongue in your mouth as much as I got off on havin’ it there.”
Obviously appalled, Orla began to shake with anger. “Take that back!” she ordered, pushing against his chest again as she squirmed against his hold. “Take it back, you liar!”
Dodging the fist that came flying at his nose, Jethro gently wrestled Orla’s arm behind her as she fought him like a mad cat that’d just been doused with ice cold water. “Woman, have you lost your mind?” he yelled when she maneuvered her knee between them and almost sent his testicles on a voyage toward his throat.
“I did not dry hump your leg, you horny old goat! I was sitting here, minding my business, and you took advantage of my sweet nature,” she railed, smacking at any part of him she could reach.
“Sweet?” Jethro echoed with a chuckle, wincing slightly as her palm made contact with his ear. “Tidbit, you might look sweet as spun sugar, but it’s clear you’ve got the temperament of a pissed off porcupine.”
Narrowing her incensed eyes, Orla almost vibrated with rage. “Oh, is that so? Well, you didn’t mind my temperament very much when you were tryin’ to push your water hose toward my flower garden! And for the record, your tongue tasted like rotten apples,” she hissed, her angry face growing even stormier as he laughed deeply. “Stop laughing at me,” she demanded huffily as she finally seemed to run out of energy and sag against his chest. “You sound like a braying donkey,” she muttered, turning her head away from him and averting her gaze from his.
She hadn’t looked away fast enough, though, because he still caught the bright sheen of tears forming in her eyes. “Well, shit,” he cursed quietly. He wasn’t sure those forming tears were from anger or embarrassment, but he knew without a doubt that he was solely responsible for them. He also realized he’d deny it to anyone that asked, but in that moment he hated himself for causing them. His little Tidbit looked plumb lost as she sat in the curve of his hip staring down at her tightly clasped hands. Fuck, he silently swore to himself. He’d done this. Somehow, he’d managed to make her cry not once, but twice, inside of one day and he’d barely known her an hour. At this rate, he was gonna set some kind of record for being an asshole. “Aw, sweet girl, don’t cry,” he said in a hushed voice, lifting a hand to stroke her cheek. “I’m not that bad a marital risk, am I?”
“N-no. I’m sure there are worse men out there,” Orla whispered without looking up at him. “In your letters… ehrrr…. I mean, your stepmother’s letters, you sounded almost perfect for me. But I don’t know how much of what I read was true and how much of it was a loyal momma’s wishful thinking. From talking to you, I think Mrs. McKinnon might be lookin’ at you through some rather rose-colored glasses.”
“Baby Girl, tell me true. You scared of what I made you feel just now when I had my mouth on yours and your body against mine? I don’t think I misread you, but you need to tell me if I did. I ain’t no mindreader.” Seeing her small body jerk awkwardly in front of him while she fidgeted with her hands and bit her lip, he felt his heart softening as he began to understand what was happening. “Or was it more like you feel ashamed that you did enjoy how you felt?” he prodded huskily.
“I… I’m not sure what to say,” she replied hesitantly, her sweet voice heavy with strain. Her eyelids fluttered slowly as she raised her eyes to his and quickly dropped her gaze. “It’s not decent what you did. Good girls don’t let men do those kind of things.”
Jethro released a low chuckle. “Whelp, you’re right about that. That kiss was positively indecent, but all the best ones are, darlin’. And I don’t know who the hell filled your head with nonsense, but good girls definitely do kiss their men. Long and often.”
Shocked, Orla’s eyes shot to catch his.
“It’s true, Orla. I’ve got more than a few bad qualities, but being a liar ain’t one of ‘em.” he shared truthfully. “Listen, chaste kisses are fine for what they are. Quick exchanges of affection. An innocent way to tell somebody they mean something. When you wanna show a woman that she’s what’s lighting the fire in your gut, though… quick and innocent pecks just don’t do the trick. Nah, a man goes dark and dirty for that kind of lesson. He wants his woman wet and hot. And he wants her that way everywhere. Her mouth. Her core. Everywhere,” he said as he moved his hot eyes meaningfully down her body from her face to her breasts and lower.
Wide eyed and dazed, Orla could only stare at him with burning cheeks. “You’re… you’re impossible! So terribly coarse. So sickeningly blunt,” she began to babble, squeezing her eyes shut for a second while she seemed to search for words.
“You’ll get used to that with me, Tidbit,” he said, grinning
. He could see that confusion, anger, and horniness were all battling for dominance within her, and he couldn’t wait to see which emotion would prevail.
Finally opening her greenish brown eyes, Orla gave him a hard look. “I don’t know what to do with you, Mr. McKinnon. I’ve never met a man like you before. One second you’re this grouchy, growling bear of a man, scaring me with your intensity and attitude, and the next, you’re kissin’ me like I’m the most important thing in the world to you and holdin’ me like you can’t get me close enough to you. The way you touched me….,” she rambled.
“Did you like it, Orla?” he calmly asked again, watching her face. To the best of his estimation, she seemed skittish, not scared.
Orla’s anger seemed to evaporate when he questioned her again, her formal boldness fleeing. “Fine,” she admitted. “Yes. I liked it. But I feel awful for enjoying it.”
“Sweetheart, don’t,” Jethro bade her, his voice unusually tender. “If a man and a woman are gonna be wed for life, both of ‘em better pray they’re compatible between the sheets. Most couples can find a way to rub along outside the bedroom, but if things don’t click for ‘em when the lights go dark, Orla, that pair is lookin’ at a lifetime of misery.”
“And you think we’ll….click?” she queried, her extraordinary eyes shining hopefully at him.
“I can’t fake bein’ hard as a pike, honey,” Jethro offered with a rueful look down at where his painfully rigid dick was bent behind the fly of his jeans. “Yeah, I’d say we more than clicked when my mouth took yours. You lit up prettier than sunrise on a spring morning for me. Can’t wait to see it happen again.”
Wed by Wednesday (Passion in Paradise #4.5) Page 5