Disregarding Crockett’s muddy paws, Tucker picked him up and shoved him at Sally Mae. She took a step back before reaching out and taking the puppy. She took another as Tucker slipped past her into the house.
His moccasins made no sound on the polished wood floors. Lyle was in the bed, fussing with his hair. Primping for Sally Mae’s arrival to his screeching, no doubt. The no-account son of a bitch.
Tucker grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him up, ignoring the wrench on his muscles. Lyle came around swinging. Tucker blocked a punch with his hand. He held his gaze as the other man realized who he was dealing with and how much trouble he was in. Cursing, Lyle leaned back. Tucker bared his teeth in a smile and let him go to the end of his reach and then squeezed hard in warning.
“It’s time for you to go.”
“You overstep yourself, injun.”
Tucker smiled. “Feel free to teach me my place.”
“Sure as shit someone’s going to. It ain’t right you making yourself so at home on a good woman’s property.”
The son of a bitching weasel. “If I hear any of that filth spread about Mrs. Schermerhorn, I’ll gut you and leave you for coyote bait.”
Lyle sneered. “People are already talking. You’d better watch your back.”
Shit. Lyle was too confident for that to be a lie.
He could hear Sally Mae coming down the hall. “Shut the fuck up.”
“Afraid the widow will kick your ass out?”
He was more afraid she’d hear and decide to make a stand. Lyle opened his mouth. With a pop of his elbow, Tucker shut it for him.
Sally’s gasp preceded her into the room. “Tucker, what are thee doing? I just got him healed.”
“And you did a darn fine job,” Tucker said, baring his teeth in a fair imitation of a smile. “Lyle here was just telling me it was time for him to leave, though, he’s feeling so much better.” Tucker gave Lyle’s hand another warning squeeze. “Weren’t you, Lyle?”
“He was running a fever this morning,” Sally said, coming around. The only fever Lyle had been running was one of lust. Lust for his woman. Tucker blocked her approach with a shoulder. Sometimes being his size came in handy.
“He had a fast recovery. That last dose of medicine you gave him must’ve been a cure-all.” He didn’t really know if Sally Mae had given Lyle any medicine, but it was a fair guess that she had. She had all kinds of potions she believed in. Something she’d no doubt picked up from Jonah, who’d decried the practices of bleeding the sickness out of a body. Tucker had to agree it made more sense.
“You’re feeling better, aren’t you, Lyle?”
Lyle tossed a glance at Sally Mae. Tucker tightened his grip, bringing Lyle’s eyes back to him. The scum had no right to even glance at a woman like Sally Mae with any kind of thoughts other than gratitude.
“That’s right, Mrs. Sally, I’m feeling right better.”
“That’s Mrs. Schermerhorn to you,” Tucker said, whacking him on the back of the head before handing him the shirt from the pile of clothes that were neatly folded on the chair by the bed.
Sally Mae pushed forward. “I need to check his bandages before he goes.”
There was no blood staining the bandage that wrapped the other man’s corpulent chest. “His bandage is fine.”
“I need to check for infection,” Sally Mae insisted. “Knife wounds can turn nasty.”
Tucker handed Lyle his pants. “Lyle will come back if he sees a need. Won’t you, Lyle?”
Lyle nodded. But they both knew that was a lie. Unless he was at death’s door, Lyle wouldn’t be coming back to visit Sally Mae. Not unless he wanted to face Tucker. And if he came back for any reason except death and maybe even then, Tucker would gut him. The man was a worm, playing on Sally Mae’s sympathy in the hope of getting into her bed. He ought to just gut him now. He sighed and smiled inwardly. No doubt Sally Mae would consider that unnecessary.
Lyle was still fastening his pants when Tucker placed his hand between his shoulder blades and sent him stumbling to the door. “Get going.”
“I don’t want thee to do too much, Lyle,” Sally Mae called, turning her face away from one of Crockett’s kisses. “Thee don’t want to tear that wound open again.”
Lyle grabbed his hat on the way to the back door and all but tripped out. “I won’t, Mrs. Schermerhorn.”
As soon as the door closed behind his fat ass, Sally turned on Tucker.
“Thee can’t just do that, Tucker. Thee can’t come into my house and endanger the life of my patients.”
Tucker looked at her. He’d made love to every inch of that willowy body, breathed her cries of pleasure, savored her sweetness. His hands clenched into fists. She should be his. “Seems to me I just did.”
“That’s what I’m telling thee. Thee will not do it again.”
His teeth snapped together on the acrid bite of frustration. “I’ll do whatever the hell I need to, to keep you safe.”
“I slept with thee. I didn’t marry thee.”
“You gave yourself to me last night.”
She held Crockett in front of her like a shield as she snapped, “We had sex.”
The hell they had. Tucker grabbed the puppy out of her arms, placing him on the floor before moving in, using his greater size to trap her against the wall. Her hands came up against his chest. Their heat warmed the leather of his vest. This close, he couldn’t miss the passion that flared in her gaze, right along with the worry. She should be worried. He was damn pissed.
“Tucker…”
With the press of his thumb, he lifted her chin. The back of his fingers just naturally stroked along the silky underside. Watching her as he was, there was no missing the shiver that went through her. Her tongue smoothed over her lips, leaving them moist. He lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her once, twice…The automatic parting of her lips placated some of the anger inside him. “You gave yourself to me last night, Sally Mae.” Frustration, anger and pounding desire hoarsened his drawl to a growl. “Make no mistake about it. Even if nothing comes of it, I’ve still got rights, which I’m not letting go.”
She nipped his lower lip, no doubt under the impression that the sting would make him release her. Fire snaked from his mouth to his groin. A shudder took him. In her he felt an answering response. He let her separate their mouths the slightest bit, taking her words as a caress against his cheek.
“What rights?”
“The kind that say I might not get to share your bed openly, and I might not get to marry you, but I sure as heck get to keep you safe.”
She blinked. “Who’s going to keep me safe from thee?”
He wanted nothing more than to lift her skirts up and sink his cock into her tight pussy, reestablishing once and for all what was between them, the depth of his claim, but there wasn’t time.
“Not a damn soul.” One last kiss, one last graze of his hand down her buttocks. The crease between drew him. He pressed his fingers into the tempting groove. She gasped. He brushed his lips over her cheek, gliding along the smooth surface until he reached her ear. He caught the lobe between his teeth, smiled internally at her shudder, bit…He caught her as her knees gave out, taking advantage of the moment to center his touch. She moaned. He didn’t back off as she shivered.
“Are you sore?”
A nod and another airy squeak preceded the parting of her legs. She was making it easier for him. Ah, damn.
He slid his knee between hers, nudging her legs farther apart.
“Remembering?”
Another nod, and another squeak as he gently massaged the tender spot through the layers of material.
He knew damn well she’d been a virgin there, but she’d taken him. Not all, but most and the taking had stolen his control. Remembering the relentless need to thrust and claim once he’d gotten inside that sweet, dark channel, he felt a twinge of guilt. And another overwhelming surge of lust. His cock hardened.
“Do you regret it?”
“Good. Because you’re going to know me a lot like that. And next time, you’ll take all of me.”
Gathering her skirt, handful by handful, he finally reached the point where all it took was a toss and a tug and then it was draped over his forearm. There was nothing between his hand and the smoothness of her thigh.
Sally Mae gasped. Tucker groaned, his heartbeat pounding in his ears and his blood thundering through veins as memories of the night before poured over him in a wash of flame. The inherent acceptance as she’d taken him, one inch at a time, her heated cries punctuating the moment, his desire feeding off hers until both of them were nearly mindless. He remembered it all and he wanted it again, her mouth, her pussy, her ass. More than anything else, he wanted the pleasure of her acceptance. Damn, he wanted that sweet acceptance.
It was no effort to part her legs farther. All it took was the press of his knee against hers, followed just as quickly by a delicate bite to her lower lip. For such a peace-loving woman, she loved to flirt with danger, and the edge of his teeth on her lips was all it took for her thighs to relax and her lips to part. He took advantage of both, claiming her mouth and her pussy in a single motion. As the heel of his hand came in contact with the pad of her pussy, he found her damp and eager. The nub of her clitoris slid along the rough surface of his palm as he worked his fingers into the well of her vagina and then beyond. She tensed.
“Shh. Just hold still.”
“I can’t.”
She could. Would. “Just a minute.”
He touched the tight, swollen ring of her pussy with his thumb as his finger probed her ass. It was still slick.
“Shit.” He dropped his forehead to hers. “You’re still wet.”
“With you.”
The confession was seduction itself. Only him. The forbidden thought slipped past his control, settling on his want with the same precision that his finger centered on the tender opening and pressed.
Sally’s nails sank into his shoulder as she came up on her toes.
“Tucker…”
He could see the tight bead of her nipples against her dress, feel the convulsive flutter of muscles around his finger, see the hunger in her eyes.
“Open for me.”
She tightened and froze, her eyes locked to his as the tight ring stretched, as her pussy opened.
“Oh!”
“Does it feel good, moonbeam?”
She nodded and dug her nails into his vest.
The tip of his finger snuggled into the slight well created by the pressure while his thumb slid deeper. “How good?”
He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it as he penetrated her now, the proof of their passion from the night before easing this moment.
“I don’t know.”
He turned his head and kissed the corner of her mouth. “Yes, you do. I can feel the passion in you, the need…You want to press back, baby. You want my thumb in this sweet pussy, stretching you, reminding you of how good my cock felt. You want my finger in your ass, stretching you there, too. You came so hard on my cock didn’t you, baby? You came so sweet and hot, milking me until I came for you, filling you with my seed.”
“Yes.”
“I wanted you very badly.” He pressed and withdrew, pressed and withdrew, timing the pressure to her shivers. “I want you again.”
Her head thumped back against the wall. “Oh, heavens.”
He had the advantage. She couldn’t go any higher. He pressed a little harder, easing his fingers in.
“Show me how much you want me, Sally.” The resistance gave on a high cry. “That’s it. Just like that.”
Hot and tight, the smooth channel of her ass closed around him, caressing his finger in tiny pulses, the way it had caressed his cock last night, holding him just as tightly. She took him to the second knuckle on a soft gasp. He lifted his knee, drawing up her leg, opening her farther to the thrust of his thumb. He rocked the heel of his hand on her clit as he tested her readiness for a deeper possession.
She bucked up. He caught her as she came down and let the momentum facilitate the culmination they both craved. Her high-pitched cry shivered down his cock as she took him in both openings.
“Tucker!”
He dropped his forehead to hers, lust and a more powerful emotion sweeping through him as her climax rolled over her. He eased his fingers out, and then in again, milking the moment, wanting it all—her pleasure, her acceptance. The illusion that she was his. “Who else?”
Her mouth sought his as she opened farther, took him deeper and gave him what he needed. Damn, she always gave him what he needed.
“No one. No one else.”
7
She hadn’t anticipated Tucker’s possessiveness.
Sally Mae stood in the parlor and watched Tucker stride across the street as if he owned it. It was a lot like the way he’d taken her just minutes before, as if he owned her, but then he’d kissed her as if she’d been his world, let her skirts ride the slow glide of his hand back down her thigh, kissing her one more time before he left her and Crockett to stare after him like lovesick fools. She didn’t know what she resented more. The way he could control his feelings or the way she couldn’t control hers.
Crockett whined from the kitchen where she’d barricaded him. The frustration in the sound echoed the frustration inside her. She and Tucker were supposed to be having an affair. That was the deal. They’d enjoy the pleasure they could give to each other, one night at a time, and then move on. Nothing deeper between them than the enjoyment of each other’s bodies. But he was changing the rules. Or maybe they’d been playing by his rules all along and she’d just been too naive to see it. She leaned back against the doorjamb, her body still pulsing with pleasure, her pussy still aching.
Show me how much you want me.
She shuddered. She didn’t know if she could, but she wanted to try. She wanted to please Tucker. To give him the same pleasure he gave her. To hold him with her body and her heart, she admitted to herself. Pushing stray tendrils of hair off her face, she sighed. She’d known that starting something with Tucker was flirting with danger, but she’d just wanted to feel alive. For one night, she had wanted to have the illusion of belonging, but Tucker was a big man whose impact stretched beyond one night. Something she hadn’t allowed for when she’d made her decision. She’d wanted to believe he was a shallow womanizer, worked hard to convince herself of that even, only to find out there was more to him than sex and violence. He intrigued her, inspired her, drew her like a moth to the flame. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. Maybe more than was wise. If she were half the woman Jonah always bragged she was, she would not be here when Tucker came back. She’d walk away, head high, convictions in place.
But she wasn’t the woman Jonah had wanted her to be. Because he’d been such a paragon, it had been easy to bask in his virtue. But the success on her part hadn’t been real. While Jonah had easily followed the path of acceptance, it had always been a much harder struggle for her. Sometimes to the point that she felt Jonah hadn’t understood. But even then he’d hidden his disappointment, attributing the lack to the fifteen-year age difference between them. Sometimes she wondered if she’d just been honest with him would she be more at peace now. But how did she tell someone who’d known her since she was ten that he didn’t know her at all?
But Tucker, who’d only known her a year, and not as an intimate, was able to see into those parts of her soul she wanted hidden. He’d poked and prodded every time he came into town, dragging them out one by one for questioning, not letting her be. Pulling the curtains aside, she glanced out the glass inserts, watching her personal temptation walk away, those broad shoulders squared, those long legs eating up the ground, the
small puffs of dust punctuating the purpose that colored everything he did. And everything he did touched her by association. She wasn’t deaf to the murmurings around town. Prejudice was not a new thing, even among Friends. A prolonged association between Tucker and herself was dangerous for them both. But apparently, neither could walk away. She wasn’t sure what held Tucker, but for her, it was the undercurrent of something bigger than them both that surrounded her when she was with him. The feeling of rightness that sank deep. It was good to be with Tucker, but was it really worth everything?
She’d worked a long time to be who she was and the acceptance that came with it. She wasn’t in a perfect place, but what she had provided stability. If she lost it, she’d be back to that scared ten-year-old with no home, no family and no purpose who had been brought to the Quakers for healing. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She couldn’t go back to that dark place. Didn’t want to, but if she continued her association, that might be just where she landed.
She watched as he stepped up on the walk on the far side of the street. Her lover. He adjusted the revolver at his hip. It was a painful reminder of what he was going to do. He was going to kill a man. Hunt him down like an animal and kill him. Her stomach twisted as images flashed through her mind. So many men had bled in her care. So many had died because of the belief that might made right and that death was the perfect resolution. She rested her forehead against the glass pane and wrapped her fingers in the lace curtain. And she was so tired of it happening over and over while she just sat there picking up the pieces she could.
Tucker stopped to talk to a tall blond man and short, voluptuous woman. The couple turned and she immediately recognized Isabella Montoya and Sam MacGregor. While Tucker was very fond of both, Sally Mae hadn’t made up her mind about Sam. He was a bit of an enigma. He had an easy way of smiling, but it wasn’t often that she found the humor reached the stretch of his lips. His fiancée, though, Sally Mae liked very much. Bella was a ball of fire, unconventional and smart as a whip. She kept Sam on his toes.
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