35

Hattie sat at the dressing table in the Buchannan suite, brushing her hair with long, hard strokes and pretending she wasn’t nervous.

A short while ago, Jake had carried her over the threshold, kissed her like a sister, poured her a glass of champagne, and drew her a bath. She’d tried to relax in the hot water but finally decided she’d just as soon face the music as hide in the bathroom worrying herself half-sick over the ways this night could go. When she’d emerged from the bathroom, Jake went in, sparing her a single swift glance—but one that traveled from her not-yet-brushed-to-a-fare-thee-well hair to the tips of her bare toes. She heard his movements now behind the closed bathroom door.

Hattie met her reflection as her brushstrokes slowed. She hated being a coward. Once she hadn’t been afraid to meet challenges head-on. Not that she believed, had Jake not sent her to Roger Lord’s house that night, she wouldn’t still be a bit apprehensive tonight. But she might not be frightened so fiercely of what was going to happen any moment now.

People said ignorance was bliss, and she didn’t disagree. She wished to heaven she was ignorant of the terror that could be unleashed upon a woman by a body part Hattie had yet to even see.

The bathroom door opened and Jake stepped out, wrapped in a black dressing gown that ended just below his knees. Clearly it was all he wore, and the atmosphere between them suddenly seemed thicker than molasses. Wondering if he’d order her summarily to bed, she kept a wary eye on her new husband’s reflection in the mirror.

Barely glancing in her direction, Jake crossed the sitting room. He stopped at the ornate ice bucket containing the champagne he’d ordered and reached for two clean long-stemmed flutes. Seconds later, tiny cheerful bubbles from the fizzy beverage he poured popped and disappeared above the flutes’ crystal rims.

Hattie continued working the bristles through a tangle at her nape as she watched Jake in the mirror, the stemmed glasses incongruously fragile in his work-roughened hands. But even seeing his approach, she started nervously when his hand, offering the flute, appeared over her shoulder. She reached to accept it with the hairbrush still in her hand. “Oh,” she murmured in consternation, feeling like a dolt, and set the silver-backed brush on the dressing table.

“Wait,” Jake said and pressed the champagne flute into her right hand. When he reached around her left shoulder to place his own glass on the dressing table, his arms momentarily surrounded her. Heat pumped off him, and Hattie was aware of his clean, soapy scent.

Picking up the brush she’d abandoned, Jake knelt behind her. She watched his reflection, noticing the way his newly shaved jaw gleamed beneath the room’s soft lighting. The creases alongside his mouth when his reflection smiled at her were particularly shiny and soft-looking. “Let me,” he said in a low, husky voice.

Hattie cast him a wary glance over her shoulder. He pressed a gentle kiss into the wing of her eyebrow. “Drink your wine,” he ordered. “Close those big eyes and relax. I just want to brush your hair.”

She took a sip of her champagne. Then, cradling the glass against her breast, Hattie did as requested and closed her eyes. As Jake pulled the brush through her hair from scalp to waist, some of her anxiety faded. The only sound in the room was the static crackle of her curls being tamed into loose waves in the brush’s wake. His fingers occasionally skimmed her neck or cheek, and their rough texture against the softness of her skin spread slow warmth through Hattie’s veins. Without opening her eyes, she raised the wineglass and took another sip.

“Your hair is beautiful,” he said in a low voice. “I’ve thought so since the first day you came to live with us.” He buried his nose in it and inhaled.

The rhythm of Hattie’s heart picked up an extra beat and her eyes opened. “Jacob?”

Draping coppery waves over a shoulder, he kissed the skin he’d exposed. His gaze met hers in the mirror. “I’ll never hurt you, Hattie,” he whispered with husky-voiced sincerity. He pressed his parted lips as well to the curve where her neck flowed into her shoulder. His gaze remained steady on hers in the mirror’s reflection. “Never, Big-eyes. I swear it.”

Hattie trembled as another emotion replaced her fear. Cautiously, she tipped her head to one side, exposing a wider expanse of bared skin. And closed her eyes.

Jake couldn’t prevent the sound rumbling up his throat, and he gathered up Hattie’s hair in both fists, tugging it to tip her head back as he kissed his way up the side of her neck. He stretched out his torso and twisted her head to one side, guiding it against his shoulder. Torqueing his own around, he rocked his mouth over Hattie’s soft, full lips. Sucking lightly at them, he groaned when they parted. It was the opening Jake sought, but the position was too awkward for follow-through. Reluctantly, he raised his head, then moved so swiftly, Hattie’s eyes had barely begun to flutter open before he pulled her chair away from the dresser and circled to crouch in front of her. Removing the flute from her lax fingers, Jake set it on the dressing table. Then he framed her face in his hands. “Come to bed, Hattie-girl.”

To his amazement, she let him lead her to it. He pulled back the spread and she climbed in, but averted her eyes when he dropped his robe to the floor. An instant later, he slid in next to her. She stared up at him as he eased her onto her back.

He braced himself on one elbow, perched over her. Finding a stray curl escaping the mass to tumble over her forehead, Jake wrapped it around his finger and studied her in silence for a moment. Her big golden eyes stared back at him. They were wide and wary but contained a spark of curiosity in their amber depths.

That trace of interest shot delight through Jake. Hattie was all his, sanctioned by church and state. Under the law, he could do anything he wanted to her, but what he wanted was to show her she had nothing to fear from him. And that meant he needed to be exceptionally careful in his handling of her tonight. To facilitate that, he’d taken care of himself in the bathroom to prevent his own needs from outstripping his caution.

His long abstinence—Jake having sworn off Mamie’s girls as soon as he learned Hattie was coming home—was partially responsible for his shameful seconds-long hesitation before stopping that night in the stable. But he would, by God, see to it he stayed in control on their wedding night. For once, he’d woo his woman the way she deserved. He took it as a good sign when Hattie didn’t ask to have the lights doused.

Tugging on the curl still wrapped around his finger, he lowered his head. Her mouth was warm and incredibly soft beneath his, and he parted her lips. His tongue traced the slick inner lining and he stiffened slightly at her responsive, shuddery inhalation.

He teased her with light kisses, never allowing his tongue to trespass farther than her lips. Hattie began to shift restlessly beneath him. Lifting her chin, she offered her mouth for a more complete kiss, then licked her lips in frustration every time he raised his head to change angles. Her arms wrapped around his bare neck and finally, upon feeling his mouth once again leave hers, she gripped the back of his head in both hands and forcibly held him to her while her own tongue slid into his mouth, seeking the satisfaction he’d denied her.

Approval rumbled up Jake’s throat and he gave her what she wanted: deep, drugging kisses with nothing held back. Sliding a hand between their bodies, he began to slip the tiny buttons running down the front of her night rail through their loops. Reaching the end of the row, he pushed up on his elbow.

Hattie murmured in protest at the loss of Jake’s kiss and slowly opened her eyes. She felt the front of her gown separate, then begin sliding off her shoulders. “Jake?”

“I want to look at you, Big-eyes.”

Embarrassed modesty sent scalding heat coursing through her entire body. Instinctively, Hattie covered her bared breasts with her hands, spreading her fingers wide to conceal as much as possible. Jake tossed back the covers and rolled onto his knees to straddle her. His hands reached out to grasp her wrists and she tightened her grip, expecting him to remove her protective fingers any moment now.

Instead, he guided her hands in circular motions against the fullness of her breasts. “Don’t be shy with me,” he whispered and hunched over, lowering his head to lick . . . everywhere. His mouth was in constant motion, pressing kisses against anything her hands failed to conceal. His tongue probed along the perimeter of her wrist, licked upward to the tip of her thumb, slid between her fingers.

He smiled up at her and said, “Married people are allowed to see each other naked.” Then he pried up a finger to run his tongue between it and her breast. He angled his head to suck her finger into his mouth, rubbing his smooth cheek against the full swell of her bosom.

Hattie’s fingers went lax and she didn’t resist when he brushed them aside, replacing them with his hands. Her skin had always been almost milk white, but now she noticed that not even the generous sprinkling of freckles across her chest and breasts lent much color against the weathered darkness of Jake’s wide-palmed hands.

“They’re so pretty, Hattie,” he whispered hoarsely. “So perfect. Look.”

She followed his gaze, and a soft sound escaped her throat, knowing Jake was also looking at and comparing the textures and colors of his skin against hers.

“Someday,” he said, and something in his voice pulled her eyes away from his hands to meet his gaze, “I want to see our babies nursing here.” Maintaining eye contact, he lowered his head and opened his mouth around a ruddy nipple.

Hattie’s womb clenched at Jake’s reference to future babies. But his dark eyes staring up at her, his lean cheeks hollowing as he drew as strongly on her nipple as might the babes he mentioned, and the tug sending heat lightning straight to that private place deep between her legs drove rational thought from her head. Crying out, she squeezed her thighs together and fought free of the nightgown sleeves still tangled around her elbows. Reaching for him, she dug her fingers into the smooth skin of his shoulders.

Jake released her nipple with a soft, suctioning pop and rolled onto his side. Pillowing his head on his arm, he breathed heavily as he stared at her. Christ. So much for easing himself earlier. He wanted to gobble her up.

Hattie rolled to face him as well. “Why did you stop?”

“You’ve let me look at most of you. I thought maybe you’d like to look at me.” His free hand reached out to stroke her from the sharp dip of her waist to the rounded curve of her hip. His palm rasped to a halt at the top of her thigh, where her nightgown still bunched at an angle across her lower abdomen.

Hattie was thoroughly intimidated but tried to act as though seeing a completely naked man for the first time was an everyday event. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she made herself look. And ho-ly cow.

Jake’s shoulders were wide and muscular. She already knew this, but somehow, seeing her new husband without his usual shirt felt new. With a fingertip, she traced the curve from his neck to his shoulder, to the point where the shoulder curved again into his upper arm. The hard muscles there were rounded, unlike those in his chest and stomach, which were longer and—not flat, exactly, but they weren’t as bulgy, either.

Jake didn’t have an abundance of body hair, but what he had was surprisingly dark. His chest was smooth, but black hair feathered his forearms and lightly dusted his lower legs. It grew in tangled tufts under his arms and feathered around his navel before arrowing straight down his hard belly to explode lush and thick around his— “Oh . . . my . . . God.”

She’d been following the visual path with one hand, lightly skimming his biceps and forearms, her fingertips gliding across his chest and stomach—but she jerked back her hand as if burned. She could not, however, tear her eyes away from that thing jutting at her from a pelt of hair more wiry-looking than the rest. She was both horrified and unwillingly fascinated by the appendage’s thrust. It looked . . . savage . . . unlike anything she’d ever clapped eyes on.

“I’ll never hurt you with it, Hattie.”

She pulled back a little, looking up at him with troubled eyes. “It looks so . . . angry.”

“Nah,” he whispered and picked up her hand, guiding it down his flat stomach. “Merely excited.” Carefully, he wrapped her fingers around him, then, keeping them captive beneath his own, moved them up and down a few times.

Involuntarily, Hattie smiled. “Oh my goodness, how strange. It’s like hardwood wrapped in velvet.” Her fingers moved of their own accord in the manner Jake had just demonstrated. She marveled at the way the hot skin beneath her fist shifted fluidly over the inner rigidity.

“Yeah,” he said hoarsely and pulled her hand away. Rolling her onto her back, he pushed up onto his palms above her, then bent his elbows to hotly kiss her.

All the sensations that had dulled to a simmering throb in Hattie boiled over once more as Jake’s urgent tongue thrust and withdrew. His hands returned to her breasts, pressing, kneading, plucking at her nipples. Then one glided down, down, until it cupped the bright triangle of feathery curls between her legs. “Jake,” she protested, squeezing her thighs together.

He removed his hand, but it hovered only inches away. “Don’t be embarrassed, baby. It’s all right. We’re married.”

“But I’m all . . . wet.” She was scarlet with mortification having to confess it. But if he touched her there, he’d discover it for himself.

“Oh God!” Jake’s eyes slammed shut and he shuddered, yet even in her inexperience, Hattie could tell it was excitement motivating him, not revulsion. His eyes reopened and he leaned to kiss her fiercely. Raising his head, he said, “That’s good in this case, sweetheart. Wet is exactly the way it’s supposed to be.” Persistently, his hand returned.

Hattie was far from convinced and kept her legs firmly pressed together as she protested once again. But when Jake’s rough-skinned fingers delved into her secret curls, found a slick, hidden little pearl, and strummed it, a world of sensation filled her. And in a different tone altogether, she sighed, “Oh, Jacob,” as her thighs went lax.

His fingers slid up and down, crafty in their knowledge, and Hattie began to pant, to arch, her hips swiveling, reaching, searching for . . . she had no idea what. But it would be something huge—she was sure of it.

Jake knew precisely what Hattie sought. Rolling to cover her, he gently kneed her thighs apart. Pushing up on his hands, he slowly penetrated his new bride, giving her time to accommodate to his length and girth. Hattie’s inner heat expanded to encase, then clasp his cock. He watched her for signs of panic. Her eyes grew enormous, but as he sank into her she shuddered with pleasure, not fear. Her eyelids slowly slid closed, and biting back a groan, Jake began to move.

Hattie whimpered deep in her throat as Jake slowly thrust and withdrew. With each pump, it felt . . . Oh mercy, it felt so . . . She spread her legs, first just a bit, then wide, then finally wrapped them around his waist. Jake slammed into her convulsively, then stilled.

“God,” he whispered rawly, “I want to move faster . . . love you harder.” He did so for several uncontrolled strokes before forcing himself to stillness. “So tight,” he muttered. “Does it hurt? Am I scaring you?”

“No . . .” she whispered. Her husband—husband!—began to move again with that same rough force, making her moan. “Feels so . . .” She sighed. “Oh, Jacob, it feels . . . so”—tilting her hips, she drove him deeper—“amazing.”

“Shit,” he muttered and lowered his head to feather one pouting nipple with the flat of his tongue. She contracted sharply around him and he pumped his hips faster, unable to help himself. The new pace made it difficult to reach her breasts at the same time. “Oh God, Hattie, I can’t—” His tongue swept the air just above her nipple, missing by centimeters. “Help me, baby, please.”

She didn’t think twice. Arching her back, she cupped the underside of her breast and pressed it up. When Jake’s lips suddenly clamped around her distended nipple and sucked, she cried out at the explosive, shattering sensations detonating deep inside her, a convulsive, rippling clench and release around that hard man part of his. Thrusting her hips up, she froze, whimpering helplessly. Jake continued pounding into her, and the life-altering inner explosions went on and on, her body jerking slightly with each one. A bit mortified by her near-violent reaction, she opened her eyes.

And saw Jake didn’t appear to mind. In fact, it seemed to drive him over an edge of his own. Mouth going slack around her nipple, he straight-armed his upper body to hover above her, his head thrown back, his teeth clenched, and his eyes squeezed shut. He buried himself in her with a final rough surge of his hips, and Hattie clutched his forearms as she watched the same powerful force that had driven her overtake him. Guttural sounds forced past his strong white teeth as he shuddered in release. Then seconds later his head dropped forward. Bending his elbows, he lowered himself gently atop her.

Hattie wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him in a fierce embrace, grateful when his strong arms slid under her to grasp her in return. He was heavy, but Hattie didn’t care. She was too dazed by what had just happened.

Jake rolled them both over, and Hattie found herself lying atop him almost before she had time to realize what he was doing. Raising her head, she gazed down at him, her hair spilling to the mattress to form a private cave around their heads.

Jake rubbed his hands up and down her bare back. “You all right?”

“Yes.” She hesitated, blushed furiously, then admitted with her usual forthrightness, “I had no idea it could be like that. When I lost my . . . on that awful night . . . well, thank you. You’ve shown me a marvelous aspect of this business I never suspected.” She didn’t have the words to express what he’d restored to her.

Jake tightened his hold. The temptation was strong to press her again for the identity of her rapist, but he hung on to his resolve. Instead, he said lightly, “My pleasure.”

Unexpectedly, she giggled. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?” She buried her face in his neck, still laughing.

Jake thought his heart might have just exploded. God, she was a marvel. “Hattie?” He threaded a hand through her hair and tugged her head up until he could see her face. “I’m sorry about the honeymoon.”

It was a busy time on the ranch, and because the end of the school year was almost upon them, Hattie had been given special dispensation by the school board to finish teaching out the term. Consequently, their honeymoon had been reduced to this weekend. She smiled a little wistfully but merely said, “That’s all right. It’s not your fault.”

It wasn’t, but he’d taken a perverse pleasure in her disappointment when he’d informed her it was impossible to get away, which shamed him now. “I’m still sorry. As soon as I can free up some time, we’ll take a belated one. Anywhere you want to go.”

She smiled radiantly. “Oh, I would like that.”

A long curl fell across his mouth when she moved her head and he picked it up, inhaling its scent before tucking it behind her ear. “Will you miss teaching?”

“I will. I truly love it, and it was my first taste of being a part of the community.” She gave him a little smile and ran her fingernail up and down the crease in his cheek, eyeing him from beneath her lashes. “But maybe you’ll let me help with the horses? That would help ease the crushing disappointment.”

“Maybe,” he said, knowing if she kept smiling at him as she did now, if she gave him more loving like tonight’s, he would probably let her do anything her heart desired.

His cock had been shrinking inside her for the past several moments and suddenly slipped out. A rush of warm liquid followed.

“Oh!” Hattie’s face registered profound shock and she tried to disguise her embarrassed dismay at the flow of liquid on her thighs. Jake roared with laughter. He lifted her off of him and settled her on her back on the mattress. “Stay there. I’ll get something to clean you up.” He rolled out of bed, unconcerned with his nudity as he walked to the bathroom.

When he emerged, Hattie tried her best to get an eyeful without seeming to be looking at him at all. She remembered how she used to think he was skinny. Boy, had she been misled! He looked lean and lanky in his clothes to this day, but out of them . . . Well, he was still long- boned and lean, but far from scrawny. Muscles moved under his skin with fluid precision, in his shoulders, his arms, his legs, all appearing carved in bold relief. Her eyes darted to his man place for a quick peek and she bolted upright, unmindful of her own nakedness. “Why, it’s teeny-tiny!” she blurted, staring openly. “What on earth happened to it?”

Jake snorted and dropped down beside her on the bed. He flipped back the covers, which had pooled around her waist, and gently used the warm cloth he’d brought from the bathroom to wipe away all traces of his loving from her thighs. As he looked up from his self-imposed task, one corner of his mouth tilted up in an ironic smile as he met her wide, curious eyes. “I don’t think there’s anything quite so deflating as having a woman point to a man’s pride and joy and proclaim it ‘teeny-tiny.’”

Pride and joy? “All right,” she corrected, “not really. But it sure is a lot smaller than the last time I saw it, and it looks so soft and defenseless now. Before it looked sorta mean. How do you do that?”

“For heaven’s sake, girl, you’ve been around the breeding pens enough to know—”

“Oh, certainly,” she interrupted, “as if you ever allowed me near any animal being bred.” Briefly, she remembered the time she’d seen a stallion covering a mare, but it had been so many years ago now, the details had blurred.

“Okay, fair enough.” His smile was wry as he regarded her, torn between chagrin at having his cock considered small by the woman whose admiration he desired above all others, and amusement at her lack of tact. One thing he’d always known about Hattie Murdock was she would say whatever popped into her mind. She was curious and outspoken about things certain to send another girl into a swoon. It was one of the first things he’d loved about her. “In any case,” he declared firmly, “I want you to repeat after me: Jake Murdock has the biggest damn straight shooter you have ever seen—”

“Jake!” Hattie blushed crimson, but she had to press her fingers to her lips to hide a delighted grin. “Do men actually care about that sort of thing? I retract the ‘teeny-tiny’; it’s really not all that small. It’s just, compared to the way it was before . . . Well, believe me, it was certainly large enough then! In fact, I was kinda worried it would be far too big, but it fit quite . . . well, you know.” Heat pulsed in her cheeks and she wished she’d taken a moment before speaking.

Jake enjoyed watching her, knowing she was embarrassed by her words, yet unconscious of her nudity as she sat in the middle of the rumpled bed, dressed only in blushes. He wanted to keep her unaware, to prevent her from diving for her discarded nightgown. So, he picked her hand up in his and placed it on his thigh, inches from the quiescently curled product of her scrutiny. “Want to make it grow?”

“Ja-cob Murdock,” she breathed, shocked, but oh-so-clearly tempted.

“Hat-tie Murdock,” he mocked, sitting very still, watching her.

She stared down at her fingers on his hard, warm thigh and the object they almost touched. “That is a scandalous suggestion.”

“I’ve got a million of ’em.” He grinned when her whiskey-eyed gaze flew to meet his in interested speculation. She blushed and ducked her head again. “C’mon,” he urged. “It’ll be educational.”

“It certainly would be that,” she muttered. Her fingertips itched with the temptation. “I shouldn’t.”

“Sure you should. It’s allowed. We’re married.”

“Well, that’s true.” Tearing her gaze away from the object under discussion, she glanced up at his face, half-afraid he was making sport of her. But his expression was hopeful, not mocking at all. Hesitantly, she stretched out her fingers.

“It feels different like this,” she whispered, “so . . . sweet.” She stroked it experimentally and it pulsed. “Oh!” She snatched her fingers back, but rampant curiosity trumped modesty and her hand returned to carefully grip him. His . . . straight shooter . . . pulsed again, its contours rapidly losing any semblance of sweetness. Then again.

“Ho-ly,” she breathed in awe. The corners of her mouth tilted up, and feeling wicked and daring she looked up into her groom’s face and whispered, “Jake Murdock has the biggest darn . . .”

“Oh, Hattie, girl—” Jake pulled her into his arms and held her in a grip that nearly squeezed the breath out of her.

Hattie could live with that. Because her big strong man’s voice was half moan and half laughter. And he was putty—er, steel in her hands.