The Horseman's Convenient Wife

by Mindy Neff

  Stony lowered her feet to the floor and undid the shell buttons on her vest, surprised by the tremor in his hands. It wasn’t visible, thank God, but he could feel it.

  Her skin was soft and warm and smelled like a dream. She had a face that caused heads to turn, a body that brought to mind perfection. More often than not, her green eyes smiled in fun and hinted of sex. An odd and potent combination. A rich tumble of red hair framed a milky-white complexion the Montana winds would likely play havoc with.

  She was a study in the perfection of femininity.

  A perfect beauty in his eyes.

  And he couldn’t believe he was the lucky guy who got to make love to her.

  He slipped the vest from her shoulders, then hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her skirt and slip, kneeling as he pulled the garments away.

  His breath caught, and he took a minute to rein in his control. The sight of her in ivory silk, lacy garters, sheer stockings and a tiny scrap of material masquerading as panties nearly knocked him senseless.

  Her fingers flexed in his hair as he pressed his lips to the silky camisole covering her belly. He wondered if she was imagining his baby there.

  He filled his hands with the firm swell of her behind, squeezed, molded, drove himself nuts. He wanted to rush, yet he’d promised himself he’d savor.

  He intended to draw a response from her that would make her forget that her goal was to get pregnant.

  He wanted her to want him. Madly.

  He wanted her surrender.

  He was giving her his seed, and he desperately, foolishly wanted her soul.

  And if he wasn’t careful he could blow it, unconsciously hold too tight. With horses, he was well aware that he had to first earn their trust, while always allowing them room to flee should they become uncomfortable.

  The same applied to Eden. He didn’t want to trap her. Butterflies should be free. The problem was, he realized with a pang, he truly wanted to wrap this butterfly in a cocoon and hold her to his heart forever.

  As though reverently opening a coveted present, he slowly lowered one of the sexy lacy garters, letting it drop to her ankle, then smoothed his palms back up over her calf, to the top of her thigh, all the way up to the minuscule elastic band of her barely-there panties.

  She sucked in a breath when his finger lingered. He paused, glanced up to make sure she was still with him, that the sound was desire rather than the product of being ticklish.

  Desire. Definitely.

  He turned his attention back to her hosiery and rolled an ivory stocking down her leg, something he’d never had the pleasure of doing to a woman except in his fantasies. Her skin was as soft as the silk covering it. She steadied herself with a hand on his shoulder as he lifted her foot and pulled off first her boot, the garter decorating it like a hat tossed drunkenly over a lampshade, then the delicate stocking that puddled at her ankle. By the time he’d dealt with the second leg, he was nearing combustion.

  He stood, slipped the tiny strap of her camisole off her shoulder and pressed his lips there, working his way up her neck, nipping her ear where a creamy pearl pierced the lobe. He felt her shiver and tremble, and wondered if she could feel the same reaction in him.

  Her nails dug into his back, and she squirmed against him. ‘‘Stony—’’

  He covered her lips with his, nibbled at them, kissed the dimple in her cheek, the corner of her eye, the delicate skin of her temple where fine blue veins reminded him of her fragility, of how the waning of her health had scared the hell out of him less than a week ago.

  ‘‘I know we’ve got a purpose, but that’s no excuse to hurry.’’ His thumb swept over her pouty bottom lip. ‘‘This isn’t going to be fast.’’

  He saw the stunned arousal in her eyes as she accurately read the sensual promise—or threat—in his tone.

  ‘‘Um, maybe we could negotiate on that point?’’

  His lips canted and he felt the damned scar pull at his skin. But right now he didn’t care. With Eden, it didn’t matter. The shallow breaths she drew told him everything he needed to know about her emotions, the level of her pleasure.

  It wasn’t nearly high enough.

  ‘‘Not this time.’’

  ‘‘Then, could we at least even the score a bit?’’ She untied the bandanna at his neck, ripped open the snaps on his shirt, spreading the panels, feverishly running her palms over his chest.

  For several mind-numbing moments, Stony couldn’t move and he couldn’t think. It felt as if the top of his head was going to come off.

  And, man, what a great way to go.

  Avid lips caressed his throat, and pert, silk-covered breasts rubbed erotically against his chest. He was a man about to go down for the count, rendered mindless by a siren with soft hands and clever lips.

  If he didn’t take back control—fast—his self-assurance over his skills as a patient lover would be nothing more than hot air.

  He whipped the silky camisole over her head, then took her face in his hands, automatically bent his knees to even their heights and kissed her long and deep, the inside of his forearms scorching where they rested against the sides of her breasts.

  He had every intention of sticking to a plan, a slow buildup, but Eden suddenly locked her arms around his neck, plastered her body against his and poured so much eroticism into the kiss that he lost all reason.

  He tumbled her onto the bed and yanked his arms out of his shirtsleeves. Their hands tangled at his belt, each suddenly in a big hurry to feel skin against skin. He won the struggle, got the zipper down and kicked off his jeans.

  Need clawed like a savage beast in his chest, his heart racing like a Thoroughbred’s crossing the finish line.

  But they weren’t at the finish line, he reminded himself in a moment of sanity.

  My God, what was he thinking? He was twice her size.

  Her little moan of pleasure nearly sidetracked him, as did the undulation of her pelvis against his arousal. He wrapped a hand around her hips, stilled her erotic motions. Her eyes were closed, and he felt a little clutch in his gut. He tried to ignore it, but memories intruded.

  Paula had only made love with her eyes closed—with him at least. He’d thought it was ecstasy. She’d set him straight on that before she’d walked out the door.

  ‘‘Eden, look at me.’’

  Eden fought her way out of the sensual bliss that was about to wring her dry. Something in Stony’s tone, though, reached out to her. Surely he didn’t intend to stop. If he didn’t put out this fire raging through her, she was certain she’d crumble like the edges of a charred cookie.

  ‘‘I’m looking,’’ she whispered. With her hands, she framed his face, ran her thumbs over his lips. ‘‘You’re not going to ask me to kiss with my eyes open are you?’’

  Whatever had caused his hesitation seemed to have passed. Now a smile lingered in his eyes. He was obviously remembering their conversation, the yardstick by which she measured the sincerity in a partner.

  ‘‘What if I do?’’

  ‘‘Depends. Are yours going to be open, too?’’

  ‘‘I wouldn’t want to miss anything.’’ His words echoed her earlier ones.

  ‘‘Then I suppose I’d need some sort of reassurance up-front that your mind wasn’t otherwise engaged.’’

  He ran a finger down the center of her chest, circled her breast, rubbed his thumb over her nipple, his eyes following the movement. Then he looked back at her.

  ‘‘Baby, when I touch you, with or without my eyes open, there’s no room for anything else in my mind but you.’’ His lips replaced his thumb.

  Eden sucked in a breath, chills of arousal prickling over her body. ‘‘In that case…oh!’’ His teeth scraped over her nipple at the same time his palm slid between her legs, cupped her. ‘‘Carry on,’’ she finished weakly.

  And, oh, my gosh, did he ever. Need built, so hot, so immediate, she wasn’t sure what to do with it, how to process it. She wanted more, but could
n’t find enough air in her lungs to tell him.

  No amount of writhing or urging would get him to hurry. He took his time, simply kissed her, worshipped her body, paid homage to every inch of her skin. He took her to peaks she hadn’t known she could reach, then gently brought her down and started all over again.

  It could have been hours, minutes or days that passed. The one and only thought in Eden’s mind was to have him inside her before she fainted dead away or died from pleasure and anticipation.

  ‘‘Now, Stony. Cryin’ out—oh!’’ She sucked in her breath, felt his weight shift over her, felt him press right against the core of her, the place where she throbbed and ached, wanted him the most.

  With his fingers threaded through hers, he pinned her arms to the bed, letting his elbows hold the majority of his weight up off her.

  And as he slid his body slowly, carefully into hers, he watched her.

  She couldn’t have looked away from him if her life had depended on it. Breath held, gazes locked, she tried to isolate each sensation so she could go over it in her mind later when she’d regained her wits.

  But that was impossible. Too many sensations and emotions crowded at once.

  He took from her, yes, but he gave so much more in return. It was as though his entire being was focused solely on her pleasure. And Eden knew it was selfish, but she couldn’t seem to do anything to even the score. She could only feel, flying on the wings of a desire that scorched her from the inside out.

  He let go of her hands and slid his palm beneath her hips, tilting them up to meet his thrust. Slowly, in and out, then with increasing speed.

  Legs bent, heels digging into the mattress, she lifted her hips and met him, matched him, urged him farther, higher, harder.

  ‘‘Wait,’’ he said.

  ‘‘Not a chance.’’ She intended to take everything he could give her, and at last had the wherewithal to return the pleasure. In a frenzy of need, she kissed his shoulder, his neck, his jaw, everywhere she could reach and pressed her body into his, giving a subtle move that had him groaning and swearing.

  She felt her body clutch, again, wondered if she could live through another climax. She might have screamed. She wasn’t sure. There was nothing slow and easy about the orgasm that gripped her. Violent spasms contracted her muscles, clutching him tighter inside her. Bliss burst in a kaleidoscope of brilliant color behind her closed lids as she felt him grow incredibly harder, heard him whisper her name an instant before his seed emptied inside her.

  EDEN’S SKIN WAS SLICK with perspiration, as though she’d taken a dip in a swirling hot tub. The breeze from the window tiptoed across her cooling flesh, making her shiver and burrow closer to Stony’s side.

  She wasn’t sure her heart would ever recover its normal pace. Beneath her palm she could feel Stony’s heart keeping a close race with hers, could see the pulse at his solar plexus visibly palpitating the taut skin of his flat belly.

  She was stunned by the tumultuous emotions he’d wrung from her. She’d come here expecting a sexual relationship, naturally figuring it would be awkward at first, take a little practice to get comfortable with each other.

  It was nothing of the kind.

  Her body still tingled and pulsed. She’d never been made love to like this, so thoroughly, so carefully, so…well. Her world had been rocked.

  This, she thought. This is what she’d searched for all her life and had never truly known how to define. It had been an elusive dream, blurred around the edges.

  But Stony had crystallized the image for her, bringing those edges into sharp focus.

  He was safety and gentleness. Virility and capability. A man with principles that wouldn’t allow him to consider an affair when an impressionable little girl was in the house.

  A strong man, in character and in strength.

  A man a woman could lean on and trust. A man who knew exactly who he was and didn’t apologize for it or boast about it.

  A man who would never, ever let a woman fall.

  But for all that, for all the tender care he’d taken with her, it was hard to remember that he was merely doing her a favor.

  Attempting to give her a baby.

  And that confused her. Because tonight had not been about getting pregnant. It was too intense. It was the wrong time of the month.

  So what had it been?

  Earthshaking, that’s what. But she wouldn’t embarrass either one of them by reading more into it than just great sex.

  Incredible sex.

  ‘‘Thank you,’’ she whispered, frowning when she felt the muscles of his chest tense.

  Realizing her words had unintentionally reduced what they’d just done to strictly clinical, she rolled on top of him, propped her chin on his chest and grinned.

  ‘‘I meant for the orgasm.’’

  ‘‘Just the one?’’

  ‘‘Uh, no. I was saving you a swelled ego by not admitting I’d lost count after the second one.’’

  His hand slid over her back, up and down. ‘‘Five.’’

  ‘‘Hmm?’’ She’d laid her cheek against his broad chest, the lazy sweep of his fingertips lulling her.

  ‘‘There were five.’’

  Her head jerked up. ‘‘You were counting?’’

  ‘‘A man’s interested in these things.’’

  He looked so pleased with himself. And well he should be, but that was beside the point. She laughed. ‘‘How ungentlemanly of you. I told you your ego would get involved.’’

  ‘‘More than my ego’s involved.’’ He cupped her behind, shifted her, rubbed her against his growing arousal. ‘‘Want to try for ten?’’

  Never had a deep, rugged voice and bold words seduced her so quickly. She squeezed her legs together, savoring the sweet, achy throb that had her hips shamelessly undulating against him. ‘‘I don’t know…’’ Her voice was breathy, aroused. ‘‘I’m not sure I could survive that much stimulation.’’

  In one smooth, erotic move, he rolled with her, kept his hand on her butt, tucked her hips under his and kneed her legs open, fitting himself between them.

  She sucked in a breath, read the intent in his eyes.

  ‘‘You’ll survive.’’

  ‘‘Oh, yes.’’ She locked her legs around him and made it to number six before he’d even completed the second thrust.

  BY MIDNIGHT Eden finally hollered uncle. The bed linen was on the floor, and she was worn nearly to a frazzle.

  ‘‘I need sustenance.’’ She was on top this time, feeling like a limp rag doll. ‘‘Did we even eat tonight?’’

  ‘‘Do the burgers we had at Brewer’s this afternoon count?’’

  She glanced at the bedside clock. ‘‘Technically that was yesterday. But we can count it if you like, because I have a major craving for ice cream.’’ Something icy-cold to give her a little respite from the heat. Her husband had the stamina of five men. But Eden wasn’t complaining. She, too, had plenty of staying power. Who knew she’d have such an insatiable sexual appetite? It had obviously been hiding all these years and was making up for lost time. ‘‘I’m thinking peanut-butter swirl.’’

  ‘‘Do we have peanut-butter swirl?’’

  ‘‘Of course. Vera ordered it in special.’’

  ‘‘Then we’d better satisfy that craving of yours.’’

  The sweep of his palm over her hip sent a thrill shooting through her. She laughed and pecked a kiss on his lips. ‘‘Not that one, sugar.’’

  Stony watched as she crawled off the bed and walked naked to his closet. By all rights his body ought to be spent. The sight of Eden’s bare backside shot that theory all to hell.

  She disappeared into the walk-in closet and came back out wearing one of his shirts, raising her arms to free her long hair from the collar. Her breasts lifted with the action and Stony swallowed an agonized groan. He didn’t know whether to swear or thank God when she pulled the panels of the shirt together and snapped it closed.

  She looked up
at him, raised a brow. ‘‘Well?’’

  It would be in his best interest to get up. Because if he didn’t he was going to drag her back down in this bed with him. And much more of this wild pleasure would likely kill him.

  He debated for several seconds. He would certainly die a happy man, that was for sure.

  Finally he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, having the extreme, ego-boosting pleasure of watching her jaw go slack as her eyes fastened on his body. His aroused body.

  ‘‘What do you expect?’’ he asked. ‘‘Hard not to react when a beautiful woman’s looking…intently, I might point out.’’

  ‘‘How very rude of me.’’ Her gaze lifted—reluctantly, it seemed. ‘‘Did I mention I flunked my deportment class?’’

  He loved it when she went all properly Southern on him.

  He walked toward her. ‘‘Teacher must have been blind. Not a thing wrong with your behavior.’’ He ran a finger down her cheek, lightly brushed the back of his hand over the slope of her breast, then bent and picked up his jeans that were crumpled on the floor, where he’d kicked them off several hours ago. ‘‘A little wild…but I like that in a woman.’’

  ‘‘Cryin’ out loud.’’

  Her voice was breathy, aroused. Stony swallowed hard and pulled on his jeans, not bothering with shoes and a shirt. They were like heat lightning together, electricity arcing between them when they so much as brushed.

  He knew better than to be acting like this. They were married only because he’d made it a stipulation.

  They were making love because Eden wanted a baby.

  The sexual chemistry was threatening to make more out of this than was there. He had to be careful.

  Ah, to hell with careful. He’d been careful all his life.

  He was temporarily married to a beautiful woman who’d given him free rein with her body. A woman who reveled in her sexuality and had no reservations about showing it.

  A man’s fantasy.

  A dream.

  And for as many nights as he had her, he was going to enjoy her. They might be using each other, but there was no reason not to take advantage of sex that was so hot it threatened to combust.

  From behind, he hooked an arm around her waist, lifted her to his hip. ‘‘Come on, wild thing. Let’s get you fed.’’