The Officer and the Bostoner (Historical Western Romance) (Fort Gibson Officers Series, Book 1)

by Gordon, Rose

  Wes took a step back and swallowed. The rain had soaked through both sets of their clothes. While he didn’t mind that his felt cold and clung to his wet skin, he rather liked the sight her once-white, now translucent shirt afforded him as it clung to her pert breasts.

  He closed the gap between them, bringing his body flush against her chest and kissed her again.

  She sighed his name and he took the opportunity to move his tongue into her mouth.

  Her hands tightened their grip in his hair, her fingers now twining between the wet, curling locks.

  Wes brushed the inside of her cheek with his tongue, then moved it across her teeth and tongue to do the same action on the other side, at which she showed no protest. Just as he was about to pull back, her tongue came into his mouth, which he gladly accepted, making no move to hurry her along from her exploration.

  When at last she withdrew, Wes pulled back. His breathing was heavy and strained, similar to the way the fall of his trousers was straining against the force of his erection and the way Allison’s hardened nipples and seemly swollen breasts were straining against the front of her soaked blouse.

  Swallowing convulsively, he fought his desire, along with the urges that came with it, and reached forward to the top button on her blouse. His eyes locked with hers. She showed no signs of uncertainty or hesitation as he slipped the top button free. Then the next.

  He unfastened the front of her blouse, then let it fall open in front of her. He let his gaze travel slowly from her eyes to her heaving chest. As he already knew, she’d worn her chemise under her shirt this morning; but that garment, which was naturally thinner than paper and just as flimsy, seemed almost nonexistent as it melted against her skin, allowing him a delightful, unobstructed view of her breasts.

  He’d be lying if he didn’t admit that he’d glimpsed them last night when she’d slipped in the bath, but only for a mere second as his mind was on keeping her from drowning. Even still, he’d glimpsed them in the water, but it was not nearly as satisfying as it was right now when she knew and was allowing him to see her this way.

  Wes met her eyes again and reached his hands up to slide her wet shirt off her shoulders and allow it to fall to the wooden floor at her feet with a soft tap.

  He brought his hands back to her shoulders; and just as he was about to move them to her breasts, her hands came up, and with shaky fingers, she began to unbutton his shirt.

  He stilled and let her, then removed his hands so she could push it from his shoulders.

  She lowered her lashes and ran her fingertips over the expanse of his shoulders and chest. A hint of a smile touched her lips when his abdominal muscles twitched beneath her touch. She pressed her palms flat against his hardened abdomen and ran her hands back up to his chest, spearing her fingers into his tangled mat of chest hair.

  Echoing her movements, Wes placed each hand flat against her sides, just above her hips, then moved them up her body to settle on her breasts.

  Her breath hitched and she met his eyes.

  Holding her gaze, he gave her breasts a slight squeeze. A gasp passed through her parted, pink lips. He squeezed again, a little more firmly this time. She gasped again, igniting his blood.

  Wes repositioned his hands and ran his thumbs over the crest of each breast.

  Allison’s body jerked, then she pressed her breasts more firmly into his hands in what he took to be permission to continue. So he did. He brushed them both again, pressing harder this time; then moved his hands again and closed his thumb and forefinger over the hardened peaks.

  Allison made an incoherent sound of pleasure as her face flushed and she bit her lip.

  Wes gave her breasts one final caress, then released his hold and grabbed the fabric of her chemise. With quick, unsteady jerks, he tugged it free from the waistband of her skirt, then pulled it over her head.

  He took her in again, admiring her full breasts and perfect nipples.

  If he wasn’t already harder than the iron barrel of his revolver, this would have done it. She was magnificent and her shapely breasts were begging for his touch. Who was he to deny them? He moved forward and shaped her breasts, growing more determined and emboldened as she thrust them into his hands and sighed softly with each caress.

  He bent his head and brought his lips to hers, capturing them.

  She wound her arms around his neck and kissed him back, mirroring his actions and gasping his name as he massaged her breasts. Continuing their kiss, he trailed his hands down her abdomen to the belt that held her skirt in place and quickly unfastened it.

  Her heavy skirt fell to the ground, leaving her clad in her pantalettes.

  Wes moved his hands up and down her slightly chilled back, pressing her body ever-so-slightly more against his. He doubted she’d noticed how cold her skin was from wearing that cold chemise. But he saw no reason not to warm her up for a moment, if he could, before moving his hands back to the front of the ties that secured the garment that shielded her most vulnerable areas.

  He broke their kiss and pressed his forehead to hers, dropping his eyes to look at the string before he ruined everything by getting it into a tight knot.

  He pulled this string, then that, forcing himself to think about what he was doing and not get distracted by the way her fingers danced in his hair, scratching his scalp, or the way her breasts bounced just a little in his line of sight with each breath she took. He released the knot and stood frozen as the cloth slinked down her legs to fall at her ankles, revealing to him the triangle of brown hair that hid the core of what made her a woman.

  “Wes,” she whispered.

  Wes put his hands on her hips and kissed her again. This time, holding nothing back and not allowing her to hold back, either.

  Breaking their kiss, and silently vowing to continue where he’d left off, he picked her up and brought her to the bed; then his lips were back on hers and his hands began roaming her body, touching here, squeezing there. His fingertips brushed over the nest of dark hair that rested between her legs and he almost came undone when she bucked her hips invitingly.

  She wanted this just as much as he did.

  He kissed the corner of her mouth, then across her cheek, and down to her ear while he moved his hand beneath her curls to the warmth that was underneath.

  Allison rolled her head to the side and sighed. Pressing openmouthed kisses to her neck, he continued to explore her womanly core then slowly eased a finger inside of her.

  She shivered and her body tightened just a fraction around his invasion. This wasn’t exactly what he’d intended to do; but if she liked it, who was he to argue? And clearly, by the way her body had reacted to his, including how she pressed herself more against his hand, she liked this—and if Allison liked it, he would continue to touch her this way. He slowly glided out, then back in. Then again and again until he found a steady pace that made her gasp his name and clutch his shoulders.

  He continued moving and was rewarded a moment later when her skin grew warmer, almost to the point of hot, under his lips and her breathing lost all sense of rhythm and came in short, uneven bursts. He sped his movement, leading her to dig her nails into his skin as her hips moved to meet his thrusts.

  “Wes,” she panted, her voice hitching mid-word.

  Wes didn’t say anything in response, just moved his mouth further down her chest, taking as much of her breast into it as he could.

  “Wes,” she said again, this time the word sounded as if it were ripped from her throat;, and perhaps it was, for as she said it, the fingernails of her left hand dug into his shoulder and her right hand gripped his hair so tightly he thought for sure she was going to scalp him. Then suddenly her body stiffened and her intimate muscles clenched around his finger.

  He slowed his movements, then withdrew completely. He propped himself up on one forearm and waited for her to catch her breath and open her eyes again.

  “Sorry,” she said, releasing the loose grip she still had on his hair.r />
  “It’s all right,” he told her in a broken whisper before dropping a kiss on her lips. He touched her swollen lips with the pad of his index finger, then trailed his hand along her skin from her lips to her chin, then down the column of her throat to her chest, where he descended the valley between her breasts and didn’t stop until he reached her feminine curls. “It was well worth it, I’d say.”

  She blushed as he’d hoped she would. Then a seductive grin took her lips and she moved her hands to his waistband, where she struggled with his belt, then the buttons. His heart pounded in his chest and his blood simmered with excitement again at just seeing her hands that close to him and knowing she was as eager for him to remove his trousers as he was to have them removed.

  Her fingers continued their task, inadvertently brushing his erection as they worked, exciting him more than he thought was possible.

  The blood pumping down to his erection at a rapid rate urged him to push her hands away to speed this up and claim her as his. But the few drops that were still making their way to his brain wouldn’t let him. She’d allowed him the opportunity to touch her everywhere he pleased. He could certainly wait a few minutes.

  Blessedly, she slipped the last button, freeing his erection from his trousers.

  Unfortunately, this was not the end of his torment; only the beginning, he realized when her delicate hand closed around his length. He groaned. Then again when he looked down to confirm he was not imagining things. He wasn’t. Her hand was most certainly wrapped around his shaft. And now she was moving it.

  He gritted his teeth and encircled her wrist, staying her. “It won’t last as long this time as it will in the future anyway; but if you don’t stop that, it won’t even happen.”

  She knit her brows and gave him a squeeze.

  “I mean it,” he said on a groan. “You need to stop right now or we’ll both leave this room for dinner just as virginal as we were when we entered.”

  “Oh,” she said with a blush. “I didn’t realize.”

  “What, that I haven’t sampled the wares of those who passed through?”

  “No,” she said, tightening her grip on him, then releasing it. “I knew you wouldn’t be so vulgar as to do that. I just assumed you’d have sowed your wild oats before coming here.”

  “No,” he bit off, trying to think of anything other than her touch. “You’ll be the first woman I ever claim—and the last,” he added with a grunt.

  Her hand stilled and a strange expression came over her face.

  “Allison?” he rasped.

  She released his erection and reached for his shoulders. “I’m ready.”

  He stared at her. “You might have been a minute ago, but I’m not so convinced of that now. Is something wrong?”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. Only a very obtuse man could have missed the waver in her voice.

  Wes framed her face and tilted her head so she’d meet his eyes again. “I promise I won’t hurt you.” At least not more than he had to.

  “I know that.”

  He was doubtful that she truly believed him or her face would have changed. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I know that you’ll be gentle with me.”

  “You do?”

  A slim smile took her lips. “Yes, Wes. I’m trusting you with my body, aren’t I?”

  “Yes.” He drew the word out; still not sure what was putting that distant look in her eyes. He squeezed her hip and kissed her lips, hoping to reassure her of whatever it was that had put distance between them. “Do you not want this?”

  “No, I do. I want this more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” she rushed to say.

  “Then why aren’t you more excited?” he said, before he could think better of it.

  “It’s nothing.”

  “Yes, it is,” he ground out. “Allison, will you just tell me what I did or said that made you go cold?” Before he’d even finished that sentence, he had his answer: she didn’t believe him earlier when he’d told her that she’d be his last conquest, in addition to his first. “Allison,” he started again, reaching for her hand and intertwining their fingers. “I meant what I said. I have no intention to be unfaithful.”

  “Wes, please don’t.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Don’t make promises we both know can’t be kept,” she said on a sob.

  Wes’ muscles tensed. “Do you think so little of me that you think I’d be unfaithful to my wife?”

  “No, but that’s just it, Wes. I’m not your wife.” Her voice cracked and she blinked rapidly. “I know and understand that one day you’ll marry another and I’ll be nothing more than a fleeting affair you had along the way, so can you please not make this any harder by promising your lasting devotion?”

  Fleeting affair? “Is that all you think of this—of me?” He hadn’t meant for his tone to be so sharp but couldn’t find it in himself to feel an ounce of sympathy for her when she winced at his words.

  “Wes, it’s not like that.”

  “Then what is it like?” he snapped, rolling off to the side.

  “Wes, please.”

  “Wes, please what?” he mocked. “Please offer me everything you have, so that I may take everything you have to offer without—”

  “Stop that,” she interrupted, frowning. “You’re not the only one giving something of yourself.”

  “Oh?”

  “Does my virginity mean nothing to you?”

  “No,” he said, bitterness filling his mouth.

  “No?” She crossed her arms over her chest as if to hide herself from him, not that he had the slightest bit of interest in seeing her body now. “Is it not the greatest gift a woman can give the man she loves?”

  He laughed hollowly. “It is, but not when she intends to sleep with another. Then it makes her no better than one of the women who travel through here every few months offering female companionship.”

  She blanched at his cruel words, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t force himself to care enough when she’d just rejected him so coldly. “I don’t see why you should care so much, since you intend to the do the same.”

  “When did I ever say that?”

  “You didn’t have to. You and I both know—”

  “That we’re married.”

  “Well yes. But not in truth.”

  “No,” he agreed through gritted teeth. “Though I foolishly believed that was about to happen.”

  “I don’t know why,” she said sharply.

  He stared at her. “You do, too, know why.”

  “No. All I know is that I was about to give myself to the man who I love, who I foolishly believed for a moment might love me back.”

  He continued to stare at her, dumbfounded. Had something happened to her brain during her orgasm that had affected her ability to reason? “I do love you,” he said simply.

  “Then what is the problem?”

  “The problem,” he began slowly, “is that your earlier words implied that you planned to sleep with me tonight and someone else—” he had no desire to say that other man’s name— “for the rest of your life.”

  Her eyes glistened with tears. “That’s how it has to be.”

  “Like hell it does,” he growled. He rolled away from her and buttoned his trousers, then forced himself to sit on the opposite edge of the bed with his back facing her.

  “I made him a promise, Wes.”

  “And what of me, Allison? Does the fact that you were about to give me your honor mean nothing to you?”

  “You know that it does,” she choked. “I love you, Wes; but I can’t remain married to you. I’ve promised my hand to someone else.”

  “Then why share your body with me?” he demanded, his chest constricting painfully.

  “Because you’re the one I want.”

  He looked at her from over his shoulder. “Then why do you still intend to keep your promise to him? You made one to me, too; or have you forgotten that?”
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  She sat up and grabbed a pillow to shield herself. “That’s not fair and you know it. I made that promise to you because you said when Nicholas came back for me that you’d grant me an annulment. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you.”

  “Then I don’t see the problem. You’re already married to me; he’ll understand.”

  “Perhaps he will,” she allowed. “And I know that I must tell him and be prepared for the consequences. But I must honor my word.”

  “No. That’s not it. You know as well as I do that he won’t want to marry you if you’re no longer chaste. You implied as much just last night. Why do you really keep insisting on marrying him? What does he have that I don’t, Allison?”

  “Wes, it’s not like that—”

  “Isn’t it?” he challenged. “Is it his money, Allison?” He hated the way that sounded almost as much as the bile that filled his mouth.

  The way she paled at his words and stammered to form some sort of rebuttal only confirmed his suspicion.

  He didn’t hear whatever mumbling excuse she thought to offer him over the sound of his blood thundering in his ears. Money. That’s what it had come down to. He could tell her of his family’s wealth, he supposed. But what good would that do? She might change her mind and accept marriage to him, but not for the right reasons. She might say that she loved him, but apparently it wasn’t enough.

  Wes stood and walked over to where his shirt lay on the floor.

  “Wes, is it not enough for you that you’ll forever hold my heart?” Allison asked, her voice a strangled whisper.

  “No,” he said, shoving his arms through the sleeves of his damp shirt. “It’s not. Knowing that I hold something as fickle as your affection means absolutely nothing to me when I have to lie in bed at night knowing that another man will get to hold you.”

  ~Chapter Eighteen~

  Wes stared at the blank wall of the cabin in front of him.

  He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting at his desk and he didn’t care.

  Not that there was much left to care about, he thought darkly as he let his gaze flicker down to the floorboard just to the left of his desk he’d pried up and stuffed that tied leather bag full of Nicholas’ letters. His gut clenched, both in memory of what they’d found that day but also knowing that Allison had kept all of Nicholas’ letters—and now he was the one keeping them. She’d probably want them back, and now that he truly knew where he stood with her, he needed to give them back to her.