Bed of Roses

by Rebecca Paisley

  A sudden crack of thunder killed the quiet, its loudness much like a slap across the faces of everyone in the room.

  Tia was the first to recover. Nervously, she began to collect the plates and glasses, and the tableware rattled as she piled it on the tray. “Bedtime, my Francisco. I should not have allowed you to be in here tonight in the first place. All this talk about Luis… I do not want you to be afraid, my son. Maclovio, Pedro, and Lorenzo, they will not let that bad man hurt you or any of us, do you understand?”

  Sawyer glanced at the three outlaws. Even if he were the boy called Francisco, he’d still realize that the old men couldn’t keep him safe.

  “Francisco?” Tia pressed.

  Sawyer felt Zafiro squeeze his cuffed hand—a gentle reminder to be nice to the sweet old woman. “All right,” he said to Tia. “I won’t be afraid.”

  “Muy bien,” she answered, smiling at him. “Please tuck him in and tell him a story, Zafiro. I have some mending to do downstairs.” The tray of plates and glasses in her hands, she left the room.

  “I think we should all go to sleep now,” Zafiro said, rising from the bed.

  Her action forced Sawyer to stand as well. “Have you forgotten we’re handcuffed?” He raised their bound hands.

  “Well, there is no help for it tonight, Sawyer. We cannot get the lock open. Lorenzo is asleep again.”

  “I will put Lorenzo to bed,” Maclovio offered. He waited for Zafiro and Sawyer to step aside, then lifted the limp Lorenzo into his beefy arms and placed the man on the mattress beside Mariposa. One friend taken care of, he turned to Pedro and helped him off the floor.

  “You are like the giant Goliath,” Pedro said, clapping Maclovio on the back. “Goliath married the Queen of Sheba, who bore him a son called Judas. Goliath and the Queen of Sheba were very proud of Judas because he defeated Ramses the pharaoh with the jawbone of an ass.” Having related his story, Pedro headed for his own cot on the other side of the room.

  “Good night to everyone,” Maclovio said. He kissed Zafiro and Azucar’s cheeks, then shook Sawyer’s free hand. “I think you are a good man, Sawyer Donovan, and I will try not to smash your face again.”

  “I’ll take your word until the next time I see you drunk,” Sawyer answered.

  “I am not going to drink anymore.”

  Zafiro clucked at him. “You always say that when you are sober, Maclovio.”

  “Want some help in keeping your promise, Maclovio?” Sawyer asked.

  “What kind of help?”

  Sawyer raised his right eyebrow and smiled. “I’m going to find and destroy your still. And once I do you’ll never drink anything stronger than Tia’s lemon water again.”

  Maclovio chuckled. “I invite you to try, Donovan.” With a nod of his head, Sawyer accepted the invitation.

  “You will not succeed, Sawyer,” Zafiro whispered as she led Azucar into the hallway and pulled Sawyer along too. After closing the bedroom door, she sighed. “I have spent years looking for his whiskey machine. Sister Carmelita has helped me. We have never found it.”

  Sawyer didn’t comment. Obviously, he mused, Maclovio was leaving the cabin to tend to his still while everyone else was asleep or otherwise occupied. With a bit of careful vigilance, catching the man wouldn’t be too difficult.

  And once Maclovio became sober for good, Zafiro would have one less problem to worry about.

  “Sawyer?”

  The crackly voice seized Sawyer’s full attention. “Go to sleep, Azucar.”

  “Good night, Azucar.” Zafiro gave Azucar a quick hug. “You would not turn me down if I offered you a free night of ecstasy, would you, Sawyer?” One hand kneading her own breast, Azucar reached for the bulge in his breeches.

  He sidestepped her advance. “Zafiro, tell her—”

  “Azucar,” Zafiro pleaded, taking hold of the woman’s bony hand, “you said you needed privacy for such a thing.”

  Azucar nodded, her fingers still outstretched and straining in an attempt to get a feel of Sawyer’s crotch. “You should go to your own room now, chiquita. I will go with Sawyer to his.”

  “But do you forget that I am handcuffed to Sawyer?” Zafiro held up the cuffs.

  Azucar eyed the handcuffs and sighed. “Yes, I forgot. My mind is not as good as it was a few years ago when I was seventeen. But at least I still have my beauty, eh, Sawyer?”

  He watched as she batted her scanty eyelashes and shook her flabby bottom. Her scarlet dress rustling and her bony hips swaying, she tottered down the hall, entered her own room, and shut the door.

  “How can she not know how old she is?” Sawyer asked. “She has to see all her own wrinkles every time she looks in a mirror.”

  “You do not know who you are either, Sawyer.” Zafiro reached up to his shoulder and slid her fingers through his thick, tawny hair. “You know, you really should give in to Azucar.”

  “What? She’s one step away from being a mummy, and you want me to take her to bed and—”

  “No,” Zafiro replied, and laughed. “Just make her happy. Give her a kiss on the cheek every now and then. A hug. Some flowers. Any sort of romantic attention would make her happy. For the matter of that, you should indulge all my people. Call Tia ‘Mother’ sometimes. Ask Pedro for a blessing. Carry on a conversation with Lorenzo even though he hears nothing you say.”

  “Forget it. It’s all I can do just to keep my patience with them. I sure as hell can’t cater to their fantasies and infirmities.”

  "But—”

  “I’ll be nice, Zafiro. That’s all I can promise.” With that Sawyer approached his room, opened the door, but stopped before entering. Looking down, he stared at the rusty pair of handcuffs. “Oh, this ought to be fun. How do you think we’re going to sleep, Zafiro?”

  “How?” She smiled. “Together, Sawyer.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Her answer hit his ears, traveled down from his mind, and licked through his loins like a tongue of fire. “Right. Together.”

  “Yes. These handcuffs have surrounded us with a hard, stony place.”

  He led her inside his room, and tried to decipher the expression she’d just mangled. “We’re between a rock and a hard place, and that is not what you said, so don’t tell me it was.”

  She closed the door and glanced at the bed. Strange. She’d seen that very bed hundreds of times, but the sight of it had never done to her what it was doing now.

  Tonight she would sleep in it with Sawyer. Would cuddle up next to his big, hard body until morning. “The bed, it is so small.”

  “Yours isn’t any bigger.”

  Her gaze met his, and she saw a roguish smile on his mouth. That now familiar heat melted through her.

  I knew you’d be like this. So soft, sweet, so full of passion. I knew it, Zafiro.

  The memory of what he’d told her in the barn intensified her feelings. “We will have to sleep very close together. With our bodies touching.”

  “That, or one of us is going to fall on the floor.” Sawyer moved to turn down the lamp, then sat on the edge of the mattress to take off his boots.

  Zafiro did likewise, and when they were both barefoot they looked down at the mattress.

  “Do you sleep on your stomach or your back?” Sawyer asked.

  “On my side. Why do you ask me that question?”

  “Because of the handcuffs. We can’t sleep any old way we want because my left hand is bound to your right hand.” He looked at the mattress again. “All right, you crawl over there to the side next to the wall. That way we can sleep either on our sides or on our backs.”

  Zafiro glanced at the wall. “I cannot sleep next to the wall with you on the other side of me.”

  “Why not?”

  “I like to hang my leg out of the bed if I get too hot at night.”

  “Oh. All right.” Sawyer moved the pillows to the other end of the bed. “Now our heads will be at this end. That way I’ll be next to the wall, and you can hang your leg out.�
��

  “Sawyer?”

  “What?”

  “I cannot sleep with my head at that end of the bed. I am used to having my pillow at the other end of—”

  “Well, you can’t have it both ways, Zafiro. Either you hang your leg off the bed or you have your pillow at this end.”

  Zafiro looked down at the handcuffs.

  “Maybe you’ll think twice before handcuffing yourself to someone again,” Sawyer said.

  His smile was contagious. She smiled back, then moved the pillows back to the other end of the bed. “I would rather have my pillow at this end than hang my leg off.” She crawled into bed close to the wall, moving way over to give Sawyer the most room.

  As soon as he lay down beside her, the warmth of her body and the faint scent of roses that clung to her skin aroused him almost to the point of discomfort.

  You should have finished, Sawyer.

  She’d spoken those words to him. In the barn, when he’d ended their passionate encounter.

  His breeches felt so tight. If he were alone he’d take them off.

  But the reason why they felt so tight was because he wasn’t alone. “Comfortable?”

  Zafiro wiggled a bit, then settled down. “Warm and comfortable. Like a spider in the carpet.”

  “Snug as a bug in a rug. It has to rhyme, Zafiro.”

  Before she could answer, she felt the fingers on his cuffed hand caress her wrist. The slight touch fairly took away her breath.

  “So,” Sawyer said, glancing at the ceiling. “Sleepy?”

  A very long while passed before she made her reply. “Sawyer, we are not lying on a dirty floor in a barn with mice in it.”

  He felt as though his breeches would split wide open. “No,” he whispered. “We’re in bed.”

  “And there are sheets on this bed. Sheets to romp in.”

  He swore he heard the seams on his breeches rip apart. “Yes.”

  “Sawyer? Are you thinking and feeling what I am thinking and feeling?”

  Before answering he pondered the situation. She wanted him. Her breathing, the sound of her voice, and all the things she was saying convinced him of it.

  God, it would be so easy to have her right now.

  “Sawyer?”

  “Yes. I think it’s a safe bet we’re both thinking and feeling the same things, Zafiro, but—”

  “We cannot do the things we are thinking about with these handcuffs on?”

  Her question made him smile. “These handcuffs aren’t a problem, sweetheart. They might be a bit of a nuisance, but I promise you they aren’t a problem.”

  “Then?” She turned to her side and rested her chin on his shoulder. “I would like to finish what we started in the barn, Sawyer.”

  So would I.

  But he hesitated. She was so vulnerable. So fanciful. If he gave in to desire…if he joined his body with hers in the most intimate way possible…

  What would it do to her emotions? “I can’t love you, Zafiro,” he told her abruptly. “I already told you that.”

  “What? But I did not ask for you to love me.” Her palm on his cheek, she turned his face toward hers, forcing him to look at her. “I only want to make love. There is a difference, no?”

  Her question deepened his hesitation. "Yes, there’s a difference. At least in my book there is.”

  “You wrote a book?”

  He smiled again and reached out to play with a lock of her silky black hair. “No. It’s only an expression. Now that you’ve heard it I’m sure you’ll mutilate it before long.”

  He smoothed the lock of her hair across her lips. “In my opinion, making love is something two people who are in love do. When the people aren’t in love it’s just mating. Just a sexual union. When it’s like that, the partners want only the physical pleasure.”

  She took into great consideration what he said and found it made perfect sense. “That is what I want, Sawyer,” she declared firmly, lifting her head from his shoulder and nodding. “The physical pleasure. It felt very good. And I will give you the same pleasure in return.”

  Her offer all but stopped his pulse.

  “I know you cannot love me, Sawyer. But you have said that you like me. That you care about me. That is enough to have a sexual union of mating with me, isn’t it?”

  He felt sweat trickle off his forehead.

  “You will leave me one day,” Zafiro murmured, sliding her hand down to his lower belly. “When you go I will miss you very much. I… During the time you have been here I have liked being with you. When you leave, I would like to have beautiful memories of you. Memories of mating with you in a sexual union.”

  He felt her breast press against his upper arm, and her hand felt so good on his belly. His hunger for her rose to near starvation.

  “You see, Sawyer,” she continued, moving her hand lower, the tips of her fingers touching his groin. “When you are gone I will be able to remember how you taught me to mate. How you gave me pleasure, and how you showed me how to give you pleasure as well. How a man puts his hard part into the tunnel between a woman’s legs. There will be no one else in my life who can teach me these mating skills. You are my one, only, and last chance to know.”

  Oh, God, he groaned inwardly. If she said one more word, he’d lose all control.

  “Sawyer?”

  That was the word.

  He curled his arm around her. Before her breasts even met his chest he was kissing her. Hard. Deeply, as if she would disappear before he could get his fill of her sweetness.

  And she returned his kiss with equal abandon, parting her lips for his sensual foray and meeting his tongue with her own when the invasion began. Wanting and needing to feel his bare skin against hers, she squeezed her hand between her body and his and began to unfasten the buttons on her blouse. “I want to feel you against me,” she whispered.

  Sawyer moved her hand away and saw to the task himself.

  “Thank you,” she murmured.

  “What’s a knight in shining armor for?” Deftly, he worked at the fastenings, and when they were open he helped her remove her blouse.

  They both smiled when they realized they couldn’t take the garment completely off, but had to leave it wound around their bound wrists.

  “Well, at least we will not have this problem with my skirt and your pants, Sawyer.” Zafiro cast a glance at his breeches. Her eyes widened when she saw the huge bulge beneath his pants. “Oh, Sawyer.”

  “It’s not a snake, got that? Don’t go grabbing at it again.” When she didn’t reply he wondered if she was afraid of what she was seeing. “Zafiro,” he said gently, “if you’re afraid—”

  “I am not afraid. I…I am only curious about all of this.”

  He reminded himself to go slowly. Enthusiastic as she was, she was still a maiden.

  And the last thing he wanted was for her first time to hurt or frighten her. “Let’s kiss for a while longer.” He tried to pull her head down to his.

  But she resisted. “I will kiss you some more, Sawyer, but I told you I wanted to feel your skin against mine. Will you take your breeches off now?”

  He decided the best experience was hands-on experience. “You do it.”

  She sat up, and with her free hand, she began to unfasten his breeches. “You do not wear undergarments,” she said when she saw the thick mat of tawny hair that covered his loins.

  “Oh, and you do?”

  His sweet sarcasm made her smile. “Only in the winter. In the summer, underwear makes me too hot. Why don’t you wear any?”

  He picked up her sapphire, held it for a moment, then curled his hand around her breast and began to knead the soft, lush globe. “I’m always prepared. After all, a man never knows when he’s going to meet a crazy woman who handcuffs him to her and then wants him to bed her. Thinking of that, I figured it was probably safer not to wear any underwear. Makes things easier when you’re hot and handcuffed, you know.”

  She giggled. “It is all right f
or people to laugh when they mate in a sexual union?”

  “Sweetheart, it’s more than all right. In fact, sometimes laughing makes it all the more fun. Depends on the mood, I guess.”

  His explanation pleased her; she smiled broadly and continued trying to release him from his constricting breeches. “I understand that you want me to do this myself, Sawyer, but I think you will have to help me by lifting your hips. Do you think it would be too much work for you to do that?”

  Pretending the task was one of the most strenuous he’d ever performed, Sawyer grimaced with feigned exertion, flexed all his muscles as if lifting a great weight, and slowly raised his hips off the mattress. “Hurry,” he panted between clenched teeth. “I can’t hold myself up like this for long!”

  Giggling once more, Zafiro pulled, yanked, and jerked at the waistband of his breeches, finally succeeding in slipping them over his hips and down to his upper thighs.

  Her giggling faded instantly.

  Sawyer lowered his hips back down to the bed. “Zafiro?” He tried to understand the reflective expression on her face.

  “I…I am sure you have the biggest man part in the world, Sawyer,” she murmured, still staring at his fully erect masculinity. “It is not a wonder that I thought it was a large snake.”

  Though he felt flattered by her words, he remained undecided about what she was thinking. “Are you afraid now?” he asked as softly as he could.

  Her fingers trembled over the long, velvety length of him. “I will never be afraid of you, Sawyer. Or of any part of you.”

  Her answer wrapped around him like a pair of soft, warm arms, even as her gentle touch caused him to shudder with need for her. He kissed her again then, slowly, and with all the tenderness he felt for her.

  And while his lips nuzzled hers, Zafiro deftly unfastened her skirt. As soon as she had pulled the garment down over her bare hips, she felt Sawyer’s desire burn into her lower belly.

  “Oh, Sawyer, I am—”

  “I know,” he answered, reading her thoughts as if from a page. “Me too.” He tugged her skirt off, then shed his breeches as well.