by Lily Graison
Wanting her like this was idiotic. He was setting himself up for failure and heartache but one look at her lovely face and he knew he’d take whatever crumb of affection she offered to give him. If he could only have her for one day, he’d take it. He’d take whatever she offered and be thankful even as she turned her back on him and walked out his door. But until she gave him some sort of sign that she wanted him in return, he would keep his distance.
Victoria gripped the ax and wondered if she asked, would Gideon show her how to hold it again?
She bit her tongue and raised the ax to her shoulder instead. He’d shown her twice now. A third time would be nothing but an attempt to get him to stand close again. To put his arms around her and she felt silly even thinking it. She was a grown woman. She wasn’t sure of Gideon’s age but he didn’t look the type to fall for such girlish games. But the way he looked at her made her wish he would.
Her attempts at chopping wood were laughable. Regardless of how hard she swung the ax or how she gripped the handle, she didn’t have the strength to crack the logs. She blew out a breath and admitted defeat. “We’re going to freeze to death.” She wiped the back of her wrist across her forehead. “And unless we can burn these logs whole, we’ll starve as well.”
He laughed “I’ll not let you freeze or starve. Hand me the ax."
“You can’t chop wood. You’ll tear your stitches.”
“Then you’ll just have to resew them.” He winked at her and took the ax from her hand, popped the blade into the wood before removing the heavy bearskin coat and holding it out to her. “Hold this and step back.”
She did as he said but didn’t like it. Not only was he in no shape to be chopping wood, it was too cold out here to be without his coat. He wasn’t fully recovered.
He lifted the ax and swung it, the sound of cracking wood so loud in the stillness surrounding the cabin it made her jump. As she figured he would, he made chopping wood look so easy but the strain on his face told her it wasn’t. He was hurting. “Only cut enough for today. You don’t need to be exerting yourself like this.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Much to her surprise, he listened and only cut a handful of the larger blocks. She handed him his coat back before they both loaded their arms with the split pieces and carried them inside. “Did you tear any stitches?” she asked while taking off her cloak.
“I don’t know.” He dumped the wood in his arms and turned to face her. "Doesn't feel like I did."
He pulled off his coat and slung it to one of the chairs and gave her the same heated look he'd given her outside. That sultry stare caused some wanton part of her to think things a proper lady would never be bold enough to ask for but good gracious, she wanted to. The kiss from earlier was still fresh on her mind. Surely he wouldn’t have kissed her if he wasn’t interested. Would he?
She looked him over from head to toe before focusing on his chest. She wanted to touch him again, that incessant need to be near him begging her to take a chance, to see if all this meant something more or if she was wishing for things that would never be. “I guess we should probably take a look." She gripped her skirt in her fist. "Just to be sure."
He nodded his head, never breaking eye contact with her. "You're probably right."
Neither moved, the air charged with some unspoken energy that seemed to crackle through the distance that separated them. Her skin felt itchy, her pulse beating wildly. She took an unsteady step toward him. "Unbutton your shirt.”
Something wild flared behind his eyes at her soft command before he started unhooking the buttons. She watched each new gap in the material as it revealed another inch of his skin. Her gaze lingered over the swirl of dark hair covering his chest, the tight expanse of his belly and the dark trail of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. When he pulled the shirt off and tossed it over his coat, she remembered to breathe.
She closed the distance between them and reached for the knot tied in the bandage to keep the smaller ones in place. It fell away easily revealing the healing cuts. The stitches were intact but the skin around them still looked a little irritated and red. She ran a finger beside the stitches on his chest, pressing lightly to see it he gave her any indication it was tender to the touch.
The other wounds were just angry red slash marks that looked as if they were nearly healed. Given time, the larger ones she’d stitched would too. “It looks better than it did. Does it still hurt?”
He shook his head. “Not much.”
“Hmmm. I guess once you can move around without any pain, you should be ready to climb down the mountain.”
“Are you in a hurry to get to town?”
His voice was low, a husky sound she hadn’t heard before. It made her wonder if, in his innocent question, he was really asking her if she wanted to stay. He was staring at her, his gaze flicking from her eyes to her mouth. She shook her head in response to his question, not trusting her voice to answer him.
He ran the back of one finger across the fading bruises on her face. “Neither am I.”
Her fingers still lay against his skin near the wounds. She flattened her hand and slid it across his chest, the hair soft beneath her palm. He was still touching her, the contact so light she closed her eyes to enjoy the barely there touch.
His thumb brushed across her lip, pulling the bottom down just enough the tip of his finger skimmed the soft skin on the inside of her mouth before sliding up her cheek.
She leaned forward, her nose brushing against his chest as his fingers dug into her hair, his hand cupping the back of her head. He wasn’t pushing her away. In fact, it felt as if he were trying to keep her close. Did that mean he wanted her as she wanted him? She hoped so, or she was about to make a fool out of herself.
She tucked her head under his chin. He didn’t pull away. The pulse in his neck beat wildly under her lips. She kissed the soft skin at the base of his throat, a groan rumbling deep in his chest as his hand in her hair tightened and pulled her closer.
There wasn't a part of her that didn't feel alive in that moment. Her heart was racing, her breasts felt sensitive against her clothing and a steady throb was building between her legs.
She moved closer and felt him against her hip, hard and solid and she'd never wanted anything so much in her life as she wanted him.
Her kisses to his neck turned to small licks, his chest rising and falling in quick succession until she gave the skin a little nip of her teeth. He groaned and pulled away, forcing his tongue into her mouth and kissing her so fiercely that throb between her legs ached to the point she ground her hips against him to try and get closer.
Every inch of her body felt sensitized, every small touch leaving her burning for more. She wrapped one arm around his neck, hugged him to her and licked inside his mouth until she had to pull away for air.
They stared at one another, both panting, his breath heating her kiss-wet lips. She dug her fingers into his hair and that throbbing beat between her legs making her body burn for more. Her clothes felt harsh against her skin, the material rough and scratchy. She wanted to feel him against her flesh. Wanted to feel the heat of his body against her own, feel the weight of him pressing her down and holding her there, the heavy thickness of him she felt pressed against her stomach buried deep inside her. “Is it too early for bed?"
He groaned and cupped her bottom in both hands, lifting her feet off the floor before saying, “I’ll not tell anyone if you don’t,” as he started for the bedroom.
Chapter 13
Picking her up was a bad idea. The wounds on Gideon’s chest and stomach burned like fire but he’d be damned if he let go now.
He carried her to the bed, braced one knee on the mattress and followed her down, kissing her again as her arms wound around his neck. It had been too long. Just the feel of her underneath him, her arms around him holding so tight and he was nearly undone. He broke away from her mouth, kissing along her cheek to her neck while reaching fo
r the buttons on her shirtwaist. She struggled to help him, grunting in frustration until he leaned up enough they got the buttons unhooked and the material pulled away.
Wiggling a hand underneath her, he fiddled with the button on her skirt until it popped loose, and smiled as she grabbed the material at her waist and started pushing and kicking it down her legs.
He stood up, grabbed the skirt and pulled, flinging it to the floor as she sat up and removed the shirt.
When he tugged off her boots, she lay there in nothing but her threadbare shift and stockings. She wasn’t wearing any other undergarments. The dark curls between her legs drew his gaze as the gauzy material of her shift lay against her body and hid nothing from his view. He could see every inch of her under the thin material.
He put one knee back on the bed, looked up at her and slid a hand up her leg until his fingertips grazed the flesh of her inner thigh. “Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head and released a shaky breath. “No.”
He found the string holding her stocking up and untied it, pulling it slowly down her leg and did the same with the other. Her legs were slim, her ankles dainty. He ran his lips along the inside of her calf, laid soft kisses there, his gaze still locked on her face.
There was a slight tremble to her limbs and the look in her eyes made him so hard it hurt. He wanted her naked beneath him. He wanted to touch her, to taste every inch of her skin.
Grabbing both legs underneath her knees, he pulled her to the edge of the bed and sank to the floor between them. She gasped and lifted her head as he pushed the shift up and spread her legs further apart.
“Gideon—”
He lowered his head, his cock throbbing at the first taste of her against his tongue. Her lusty moan as he licked her slick folds caused his pulse to race, her fingers digging into his hair to hold him to her making him more frantic. He had to get inside her, the ache was so strong, but he needed to hear her come apart first.
Slipping a finger into her depths, she gasped, her nails digging into his scalp as he pumped his fingers in and out, his tongue swiping across her clit before sucking on it, his fingers pushing deeper. He looked up at her, her back was arched, her breasts all but spilling from her shift. He added another finger, his tongue flicking that tiny nub of flesh until her legs started to shake. He sucked it into his mouth again, pulling hard as he continued to rub his tongue against it and that was enough. Her hold on his hair tightened, her thighs slammed against his ears and she screamed so loud it raised every hair on his body.
He unhooked his trousers with his free hand, his mouth still buried between her legs as she rode his face and he waited until the pressure she had on his hair eased before he stood, grabbed her around the waist and climbed onto the center of the bed with her. He entered her in one swift push, her gasp stilling him for a moment thinking he’d hurt her.
When she looked at him, he knew it had been the opposite. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms clutching his shoulder.
“Don’t stop,” she said, leaning up and kissing him. “And don’t be gentle.”
He pulled out, then thrust back in and groaned. She was tight and so slick he knew he wouldn’t last. He didn’t even try. Sliding his arms under her, he cupped her bottom with both hands, braced his head on the mattress beside her own and pounded into her as every inch of his skin tingled, the world narrowing down to the space they occupied and her soft hiss of his name was all he needed to let go.
He came in a rush so fierce, he saw stars behind his closed eyelids and held on to her so tight he knew he had to be hurting her. When the last of him had been spent, his muscles relaxed, his breath panted near her ear, and he fell against her. Her soft grunt at the weight of him was the only thing that made him move. He rolled over onto his back, pulling her with him. He slipped from the warmth of her body and he held her closer, already wanting back in.
He kissed the top of her head and held her tight against him. She rested her head on his shoulder, most of her weight on his left side. His racing heart slowed to a normal pace as he tried to catch his breath. The entire act was over much too quick and he’d be embarrassed about if it weren’t for the smile on her face. She didn’t look as if she minded.
He’d forgotten about the wounds. They were reminding him now that they were still there. As much as those slash marks hurt, he wouldn’t trade the pain for anything in the world.
Victoria shifted and propped her chin on his chest. “Had I known it would be like that, I would have played the wanton much sooner.”
He laughed. “I wish you had.”
Victoria snuggled closer to Gideon and tried to remember the last time she’d been so content but nothing came to mind.
The feel of his flesh against her own was a sensation she’d never grow tired of. She was still sprawled on top of him and knew she had to be hurting him but every attempt she made to move, he pulled her back and refused to let her go. Not that she minded. She was perfectly happy right where she was.
He played with her hair for a few moments, pulling the pins loose and tossing them aside so he could run his fingers down the strands. It felt nice. Nothing more than him holding her close and stroking her hair was pure bliss. She was drawing nonsensical patterns on his chest with her fingertip when he placed a kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin before saying, “How long have we been here?”
“Close to two weeks now.”
“Hmmm…So it’s been three or four weeks since I found you?”
“Yes.”
“All that time and I still don’t know where you’re from.”
She smiled at his question. “Chicago.”
“Chicago. I hear it’s a big place. Are there a lot of people there?”
She chuckled. “Oh yes. So many you can’t turn a corner without seeing at least a dozen.”
He continued to stroke her hair. “Did you like it there?”
Thoughts of her life before everything went so wrong filled her mind, a surge of melancholy filling her clean to the soul. “Not particularly.” She shifted to the bed to take her weight off of him despite him trying to keep her still. “My parents were overprotective. It took a long time to conceive me and I think they kept me so sheltered because of it. It wasn’t malicious. They loved me so much, they couldn’t bear the thought of me not being there so I was kept at home more often than not. When everyone else was out enjoying all the city had to offer, I was at home having tea with my mother or playing the piano for my father. The only time I went out was with one of them but most of the time, I was confined to the house and grounds. That’s how I met Thomas.“
The mere mention of his name and guilt started to steal a bit of the joy she felt. How could she lay here with Gideon and be so content with her life when he was gone? She lowered her head and brought her hand closer to her face.
“You don’t have to tell me about him if you don't want to.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s—“ She blew out a breath. “I never thought I’d feel so guilty.”
He turned and faced her. “Why do you feel guilty?”
“Because he’s gone and I’m—“ She sighed and looked up at him. “I’m here with you.”
He brushed a finger across her cheek. “Would he want you to spend the remainder of your life alone?”
She shrugged. “I don’t suppose he would.”
“I don’t think so either. Not to mention, he’s been gone for months now. Seven most likely.”
“I know.” He was right. Thomas had been gone for months. At one time she didn’t think she’d ever get over the loss. Regardless of the way Thomas treated her at times, he’d been her first love. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get over it completely. But now, the pain she’d felt wasn’t as consuming as it had been. She was sure Gideon was the reason why, which is where the feelings of guilt came from. How could she be happy when Thomas was dead?
“He promised me an adventure.” She smile
d at the memory. “His father was overbearing and cruel at times and my parents were so smothering. My father had arranged for me to be married to a man a bit older than I was and I knew if I married him, my life would continue exactly the way it had been for years. Thomas said we’d travel the country and live by our own rules so I packed my clothes and anything I had of any value and hid them behind the gardeners shed and waited for Thomas to come and get me. We ran off and got married and left Chicago behind and headed west.”
“Where did you meet him?”
“Who, Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“At a Christmas party. My parents throw one for me every year. I’d grown weary and wanted a bit of fresh air and I saw Thomas in the stables helping his father.” She smiled at the memory. “He was so different from anyone I’d ever met. He flattered me endlessly and made me feel special and I fell for him quicker than I would have imagine I could. My father didn’t approve. It was then he decided I’d be better suited with an acquaintance he did business with. When I told Thomas, he told me he loved me and asked me to run away with him so—I did.
“We weren’t in any hurry to settle down so we took the train and stayed in a few of the towns we stopped at. When we got tired of it, we’d hop the train again and kept moving west. When we hit Montana territory, I sold every piece of jewelry I owned, every fancy dress I’d brought, and we bought the wagon and supplies and we agreed to go as far as our provisions took us and set down roots.”
“And that never happened.”
“No,” she said, shifting beside him. “One of the wagon wheels cracked a spoke and Thomas shored it up best he could and we prayed it would last until we could get to a town that we could have it fixed but, it never happened. Thomas cut his arm on a rusty nail and never said anything. It wasn’t until he took to fever that I even realized he had the cut and by then it was too late. It was already infected.” She bit her lip remembering. The boy she’d married turned into someone she barely recognized. His temper grew shorter as he sickened and he lashed out with hateful words that tore her heart into pieces. She’d convinced herself it was the fever that made him say them, but now she realized maybe it wasn’t. That maybe the person she saw, in the end, was who Thomas really was. She hadn’t known him well enough to marry him.