She looked up at him. “Of course. You’re right. It is late. Will you be sleeping in my bed?” It was such an innocent question, but there could be only honesty in the answer.
“Do you mind? I enjoy holding you while you sleep. I know you’re safe.”
“I don’t mind,” she whispered. “Just don’t wake me when you finally come to bed.”
He knew they were both adults, but there was something almost childlike in the way they trusted without reason. He wasn’t sure what she thought. Maybe she believed nothing would happen. Maybe she was simply living up to the bargain he’d requested.
But there was nothing childlike in the way he felt about her. Each brush of her arm or taste of her lips only left him wanting more. Two days ago he thought he’d be happy just to be able to be near her, but now he wanted more, much more.
In the eyes of God and by law they were man and wife, but in her eyes, he was no more than an outlaw she’d made a bargain with to hold on to her ranch. He had a feeling she would have found another way if he hadn’t been near.
If he took advantage of her, he’d never forgive himself, but if he walked away without loving her, he’d regret it until he died.
He walked her to the stairs. After she took the first step she turned and said good night.
He didn’t turn her hand loose. “Kiss me good night,” he whispered with more need than demand.
Slowly, she leaned forward. “Yes, dear,” she answered as she pressed her lips to his.
He closed the distance between them as if he were starving for what she offered.
When she finally ended the kiss, she was breathless.
“That was . . .” She couldn’t find the words.
“Perfection,” he helped. “Good night, dear. When I come to bed I’ll not wake you, but I make no promises not to touch you.”
Her eyebrows lifted and she whispered, “Oh.”
He smiled. “Would you like another kiss, my wife, or can you wait until I’m beside you?”
“No.” She stumbled up the next step. “Though I’ve no complaints about the one.”
He fought the urge to follow her up the steps. “You might think of wearing a gown tonight. I’m sure you’re tired of my wrinkling your clothes. I’ll kiss you again when I come to bed.”
“I’ll be asleep,” she said, her eyes wide awake.
He grinned. “I won’t mind.”
She turned before he could say more and disappeared up the stairs.
It took every ounce of his willpower to make himself walk to the office. His time was limited but he wanted to give Cozette something and the proof of her uncle’s embezzlement might keep her and her child safe. She might like flirting with him but that didn’t mean she wanted to give him half the ranch. He’d learned a long time ago to expect nothing.
Michael worked late into the night, forcing all his energy into his work so he wouldn’t think of the woman upstairs waiting for him to share her bed, but not her life.
Finally, when the numbers started to blur on the page, he hid the books beneath the sickbed, blew out the lamp, and climbed the stairs. He walked through his room, removed his shirt and old boots, and tossed them on the floor. A new pair of boots stood at the end of his bed along with a clean set of clothes he knew would fit him perfectly. She might not want him around long, but while he was there she treated him with more kindness than anyone ever had. He would miss the coffee served to him every morning and the cobbler every night.
When he lowered onto her bed, she was asleep, as she’d promised she would be. For a while, he just watched her, wondering what life would be like if she really belonged to him.
His hand moved beneath the covers. Only one layer of soft cotton separated his touch from her body. He moved near her soft breath and touched her lips with his as his hand began to explore.
The feel of her washed away all the exhaustion. He traced the outline of her breasts and slid his hand over her slightly rounded tummy, wishing it were his child growing inside her. When he moved her head onto his shoulder she made a little sound in her sleep, but she came to him willingly.