The Lawman (The Willow Creek Series #1)

by Lily Graison

  He grinned and leaned his shoulder against the doorjamb. “Well, for starters, I wouldn’t object to you doing so, although I’m known to not wear my drawers more often than I do, so I can’t promise what you’d see. As for minding seeing you like that? Not at all. Continue to undress if you wish.”

  She huffed out a breath, crossed her arms under those perky little breasts and scowled at him. “What do you want?”

  He opened his mouth to answer but found it hard to get a word out. Seeing her standing there with the light coming through her shift was too much of a distraction. He could see her nipples, the dark areolas pressed against the fabric and begging him to cross the room and take them into his mouth right through the cloth. Her shapely thighs drew his eye to the thatch of thick hair between her legs. Damned if just seeing her there didn’t cause his cock to throb and make him want to demand she marry him. If he married her she’d be all his. That luscious body his to command every night until the day he died. He almost said as much but then remembered how easy she was to provoke. Being married to her would be the best of heaven and the very worst of hell. Arguing every day until he was ready to just saddle his horse and ride away and loving her every night until he begged her never to leave him. It just wasn’t worth the headache.

  Focusing his gaze back on her face, he straightened. “I just wanted to apologize to you. I didn’t mean to be gone all day. Tomorrow, you’re free to go.”

  Her eyes widened and a puzzled look stole over her features. He thought a hint of fear clouded her face but it passed so quickly he decided he imagined it. Telling her goodnight, he pulled her door shut, walked to his room and started undressing.

  The more he thought of her the more he wished he could just forget about her completely. His life was fine, if not a little dull, before she’d come to town and now, two days later, all he could do was think about her. She consumed his thoughts and every time he looked at her his body ached to take her. To claim her as his and give her his name. If he didn’t someone else would. He knew that without even thinking too hard on it. The men to women ratio in Willow Creek was severely lopsided. Abigail Thornton wouldn’t have to worry about being unmarried long and the idea of her in someone else’s bed caused a hint of unease to settle like an ache between his shoulder blades.

  Tossing his shirt to the corner, he sat down on the bed, removed his boots and sat staring at the door. He needed to make up his mind where Abigail was concerned. Either ask her to marry him all proper like or just forget about her, head to the saloon and slake his desire with one of Miss Angelina’s girls. It had been that way for years, there was no reason to expect more now just because he had a pretty little thing in the next room over.

  Thinking of her lying in bed on the other side of the wall, he groaned, flopped back on the bed and closed his eyes. “If I don’t get her out of my house, I’m going to go mad.” Images of her half naked came unbidden to him then and he groaned, his cock once again stirring. Reaching down to adjust himself he shook his head and vowed, come morning, Miss Abigail Thornton would be nothing but a memory. He’d see her ensconced into the hotel by noon and out of his life forever.

  * * * *

  Abigail hesitated, her arm outstretched. What started as a well thought out plan seemed a bit over the top now. She chewed her bottom lip and debated on forgetting the whole thing. An inhaled breath calmed her nerves somewhat. She reached up, unbraided her hair, tossing the long locks over her shoulder, and reached for the doorknob.

  She opened the door without knocking.

  And got a tantalizing view of Morgan’s naked backside. “So, today is a no drawers kind of day, I see.”

  Morgan spun on his heel, pants dangling from his hand. He looked shocked to see her if the expression on his face was any indication. Abigail let her gaze roam the length of him, from his wide shoulders, his strong chest with its dusting of fine dark hair, to his flat belly. When she directed her gaze to his cock, she smiled when it twitched. He was semi-hard and growing by the second.

  Focusing her attention back to his face, she entered the room fully, shutting the door behind her. “What? No witty retort? I’m disappointed.”

  It took him a few seconds to respond but he dropped the pants by his feet and smiled. “I can think of better things to do at the moment than talk, Abigail.”

  “What are you waiting for, then?”

  He hesitated, apparently trying to see if she was serious before deciding she was and crossed the room with three large steps, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her. His tongue invaded her mouth, one hand pressed to the back of her head to keep her where he wanted her. Abigail sagged against him, her body flush against his strong muscular frame. Her skin burned where they touched and her shift was a barrier she didn’t want at the moment. She should have taken it off before entering the room.

  Morgan broke the kiss long enough to bend and wrap an arm under her knees and carry her to the bed. He wasted no time joining her. Laying half on top of her, he locked eyes with her. “You sure this is what you want? Because I swear if you’re playing with me I’ll lock you in that jail until you rot.”

  Abigail grinned and arched her back, pressing her breasts into his chest. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

  He smiled, lowered his hand and dragged the tail of her shift up her legs, baring her from waist down to his hungry gaze. His fingers teased her inner thigh, tickling a path to her center before delving into her moist heat. Abigail parted her knees and sucked in a harsh breath, her eyes fluttering closed before she gasped when he impaled with her two fingers. “Sweet heaven…”

  “That you are,” he said. “Untie your shift.”

  Abigail did as asked and pulled the material apart. Her breasts now bared, Morgan lowered his head, teased her nipple with the tip of his tongue and worked his fingers inside of her until she was squirming on the bed.

  Walking into Morgan’s room had been an impulsive idea after he said she was free to go the next day. Fear had skated along her spine until she was weak with it. Now, lying across his bed with his fingers and mouth playing her so deliciously, Abigail wondered why she hadn’t made a move at breakfast when he kissed her and pressed his erection to her backside.

  Opening her eyes, she watched him suck her breast into his mouth, his lips closing around her nipple again. “Don’t tease me all night, Morgan. It’s been too long.”

  Rising, he lifted her leg, slid between her thighs and lowered himself to lie against her. She felt the head of his cock press against her and raised her hips, staring at his face as he slid in.

  He moaned deep in his throat, his eyes fluttering closed briefly before he looked down at her and angled his hips in such a fashion that with every push, Abigail felt a small wash of pleasure trickle from her center and explode to every nerve ending.

  She’d thought earlier that morning that Morgan kissed like his world was ending. He fucked in the same manner. Mindless, hard pounding thrusts that forced a gasp from her throat before she had to grab him, hold on, and ride wave after wave of sweet torment.

  He took her breast again, his mouth closing over her nipple and sucking as he continued to push inside of her. She was half delirious and shaking by the time she felt the tingles start racing in laps down her legs and her stomach clenched. “Morgan…” The smile on his face when she whispered his name was one of pride and determination. The pace of his thrusts grew faster, the force behind them almost bruising and Abigail was thrown into a maelstrom that caused a scream to burst forth and ring in her ears as lights sparked off behind her closed eyelids.

  He slowed his pace, the angle at which he pushed inside changed and Abigail could only lay there and moan as each listless intrusion sent aftershocks chasing each other through her limbs. She forced her eyes open and the satisfied look on his face was evident. He was pleased with himself.

  “Warmed up yet?” he asked.

  Abigail raised an eyebrow. “Warmed up?”

  He grinned, lea
ned down and sucked her bottom lip into his mouth. “Mmhumm… I haven’t even begun to love you yet, Miss Thornton.”

  “Good lord…” Abigail’s eyes fluttered closed as Morgan continued the easy slide and retreat, his cock filling her completely before slipping away. His hand caressed her hip, his lips tickling a path across her throat and neck. Sweat formed on her skin as the minutes ticked away. By the time her limbs were shaking and she felt her stomach clench with impending release, Morgan was breathing heavily, his thrusts becoming harder. He mumbled something against her hair, his fingers biting into the flesh at her hip.

  Abigail wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms encircling his neck gripping tighter as she buried her face against his throat. She made an anguished sound, the noise sounding distant even to her as Morgan increased his thrusts.

  The climax rushed over her in such a manner, Abigail was too weak to do anything as Morgan gave his own harsh shout and spilled himself inside of her. He collapsed on top of her, his weight holding her firmly in place. Their breaths were labored, their skin damp with moisture. The chill in the room was a blessed relief after the burning heat she’d felt.

  He was the first to recover, groaning before rolling off of her to lie beside her. Abigail stared at the ceiling, too numb to do much more than try and breathe and blink her eyes. Long minutes passed before she turned her head to look at him.

  His eyes were closed, his chest rising rapidly. He looked asleep and she thought he was after he didn’t move for so long. When he turned his head and looked at her, he grinned. “Now that, Miss Thornton, was worth every bit of torment you’ve caused me since stepping foot in this town.”

  Abigail rolled her eyes at him. “You’re the one who tormented me, Marshal Avery. Locking me up for nothing more than walking into a saloon.”

  “And getting my pretty face messed up.”

  She snorted a laugh. He rolled toward her and lifted his hand, pulling a hank of her hair forward over her shoulder. He stared at it, rubbing the strands between his fingers before looking up at her. “So, what happens now?”

  Abigail wasn’t sure what he meant. Was he asking her about what she’d do after tomorrow? Their teasing marriage plans or something else? She wasn’t sure and didn’t want to assume anything. She’d done that already and was still confused by it. She sat up, slid to the edge of the bed and looked back over her shoulder at him. “At the moment, I’m going to try out that fancy washroom you have at the end of the hall. Is that tub big enough for two?”

  He grinned and sat up. “Yeah. Want some company?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.” She stood and walked to the door, not bothering to look and see if he was following her. She was sure he was. Any man who could go that long and love a woman so completely surely wouldn’t be sated after one roll across the bed. It’s probably why he spent so much time over at that saloon. Abigail frowned while thinking of those women. Come tomorrow, Morgan would probably be back over there giving one of them a mind blowing orgasm strong enough to shake her entire world.

  Opening the washroom door, she glanced over her shoulder. He was walking the length of the hall toward her, his predatory gaze fixed to her backside. She smiled while looking at him. If she had anything to do with it, Morgan Avery wouldn’t step foot inside that saloon again for anything other than a shot of whiskey. She may not have known if him agreeing to marry her was just his way of teasing her or not but by morning, she’d be damned sure he thought twice before telling her no.

  Chapter Six

  The walk to the jail was for once, done with a whistle and a lively step. Morgan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so—alive. He’d woke to the feel of warm lips wrapped around his cock, soft hands running laps over his chest and belly and hadn’t wanted to leave the bed all day. He wouldn’t have either if his stomach hadn’t started growling. Abigail had laughed, kissed him until he was ready to take her again and crawled from his bed. He’d watched her walk away, her heart shaped naked bottom swaying from side to side, with a smile on his face.

  That smile vanished at breakfast. When he engaged Abigail into a discussion about where she was from, she fed him a line about being an orphan. He’d believed her until those funny little splotches broke out on her neck and she refused to look at him. He knew then she was hiding something.

  When he reached the jail, he shut the door behind him, walked to the desk and pulled the drawer open, grabbing the stack of old wanted posters he kept inside. He studied each one, reading the description of every person listed and the crime they’d committed. Of the few women pictured, none of them even came close to resembling Abigail and he had to wonder if that was even her name. He remember asking her in the saloon the day the brawl broke out, and her hesitating when giving him her last name came back to him in an instant. Thornton wasn’t her last name. He’d bet his badge on it. If she wasn’t who she said she was, then who was she and what was she running from?

  Placing the posters back in his desk, he leaned back and stared across the jail, his gaze landing on the cell he’d locked her in. A brief thought of putting her back in there washed over him before he dismissed it. He’d left her in his kitchen, kissed so completely she’d been breathless when he turned to leave. She’d looked happy for the first time since he’d met her. Putting her back in that cell would accomplish nothing. Well, nothing other than making her mad at him again and he was enjoying her company too much at the moment to do that.

  He sighed, leaned forward and propped his elbows on the desk. If Abigail was in trouble, he needed to find out from what. Or who, he suddenly thought. Was that why she was so adamant on finding a husband? Was she running from something? Or someone?

  Shaking his head as the questions kept pilling up, he stood, repositioned his hat on his head and left the jail, walking the length of town to the new telegraph office at the end of the street.

  Fergus McDonald greeted him with a toothy smile. “Morning, Marshal. What can I do for you today?”

  Morgan walked to the counter, leaned against it and studied the man. He was tall, lean and had more hair on his arms than he did his head. He was new to town, setting up the telegraph service just the year before. It had been a time saver for many since the lines came through, especially him. Not having to ride to Missoula every time he needed information from the sheriff there was a blessing. “Need to get a message to Sheriff Bower over in Missoula.”

  “All right then.” Fergus handed him a slip of paper and a pencil. “Just write it all down for me and I’ll get it sent off for you.”

  Morgan wrote the message, paid Fergus and waited until the message had been sent. When he turned to leave, Fergus wished him good luck on the day and happy blessings to boot. He wasn’t sure what the hell that was supposed to mean and his confusion grew as the day wore on. Every person he met seemed to be in a good mood. Well wishes from people he rarely spoke to came unbidden but the girls in the saloon weren’t so welcoming. They were acting funny. They shunned him, tossed their noses in the air and wouldn’t even come down to talk to him. Ungrateful, the whole lot of ‘em. He’d tossed his drink back and left without another word. He didn’t need them anyway. Not with Abigail taking up residence in his house. Lord knows having her in his bed was a damn sight more enjoyable than those whores were.

  * * * *

  Abigail chewed her thumbnail and paced the length of Edna Pierces’ bedroom. What was she supposed to do now?

  When Edna had showed up at Morgan’s moments after he left, the woman had been in such a jovial mood, Abigail hadn’t hesitated about following her out of the house and down the street. She’d looked in the jailhouse window at Morgan as they passed and the urge to run in and kiss him again had been strong. She’d refrained as Edna wouldn’t have let go of her arm long enough to do so and had dragged her to her house instead. Once inside the modest home, she’d been met by a host of other women. The merchant’s wife, Mrs. Jenkins, was there with an armful of pretty lace dre
sses. An elderly lady asking what flavor of cake icing did she like best, orange or lemon, and a young girl of no more than sixteen armed with brushes, hair pins and small dainty flowers.

  After the commotion grew to an orchestra of shrill voices, Abigail yelled, “Stop,” to get everyone’s attention. When they all turned to look at her, she smiled, cleared her throat and tried to keep her voice in a low, even tone. “Would someone like to tell me what’s going on?”

  They stared at her like she suddenly grew a second head before laughing. The young girl, Miranda Talbert, was the first to recover. “Why its your wedding day. What else?”

  “My wedding…” Abigail’s eyes widened. Her wedding day! The cake, the dresses and young Miranda’s tiny flowers rushed at her in a flash. They were going to prepare her for a wedding? She was almost afraid to ask to whom. “Um, a wedding?”

  “Of course, a wedding,” Edna said, smiling as she stepped in front of her. “When you told me yesterday that Marshal Avery asked you to marry him I knew that it was up to me to see that your day be perfect. Lord knows that man would have botched the whole affair and with you new in town, I assumed you didn’t know anyone. Just think of this as our gift to you. A welcome to Willow Creek, so to speak.”

  Speak was something Abigail couldn’t do at the moment. She sank into a nearby chair, stared at the ladies around her and went numb. Last night, and most of the morning, had been perfect. Her plan to seduce Morgan in hopes he wouldn’t toss her out of his house had resulted in one of the most sensual nights of her life. She’d been pleasured to this side of pain and would have begged for more if hunger hadn’t forced them from the bed. The whole teasing marriage thing hadn’t even crossed her mind. What would she do now? Did Morgan know any of this was planned?