One Texas Night - By Jodi Thomas Page 0,96

he stood, holding her in his arms, and walked over to his bed. He tossed her atop the covers and stared down at her for a long moment before joining her. “It’s cold in here. You should be under the covers, dear.”

As the first light shone through the open windows, he tugged the front of her gown open. “If you just want to be touched and nothing more, then touch you I will.”

His fingers shoved the cotton aside a moment before his warm hands covered her breasts. “But I plan to do so all over.”

When she gasped, he kissed her deep as his hands made his promise true.

After awhile, he rose his head to look into her eyes. The pain she’d seen was gone, and passion had taken its place. She whispered between gulps for air. “Again, Michael. Touch me again.”

He pushed the gown off and lowered his mouth to her peak.

Crying out from the pleasure, she rocked back and forth. He moved back to her mouth, holding her face in his hands as he kissed her.

“Is this what you want, my love?” His words whispered against her mouth.

“Yes,” she answered.

Slowly, he gentled as he removed her gown and lightly brushed over her body with his fingertips. When she shivered, he rolled her onto her stomach and stroked her back, dipping lower until his hand covered her bottom.

He didn’t say anything as he explored her body with bold strokes that warmed her skin.

Part of her couldn’t believe she was letting him. Knowing he wanted her wasn’t the same as loving her, but it was close. Reason told her she never wanted another man, but emotions warring in her wouldn’t allow her to stop him. Just seeing the pleasure in his face made her happy. He was a good man who’d had very little pleasure in his life, and it pleased her greatly to know that she could offer him something in return for all he’d given her.

She finally curled next to him and he pulled a blanket over them both. They fell asleep with her head on his shoulder and his hand spread across her stomach.

When the household began to wake, Cozette stirred, loving the warmth of him near.

He opened one eye and looked at her.

“Can I have my good-morning kiss, please?” she pouted.

“Of course,” he said, “but only one.”

He kissed her soundly and pulled away. “Tonight I think maybe you should forget the gown. It will only get ripped. I plan to repeat our early morning activity.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she smiled.

“Don’t worry. If you forget, we might have to do it twice.”

She blushed. “Oh, I see. I should probably warn you my memory’s never been good.”

“Don’t worry. I’m here to help.”

They both laughed, but she didn’t miss the warm fire in his stormy blue-gray eyes.

She tugged the covers around her as she watched him dress. She wanted to ask him if he’d be happy just touching her and nothing more, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer. When he left she’d keep the memories of their nights together close to her heart. She might not have a real husband, but she’d know that once, for a few short nights, she’d been touched completely and lovingly.

After he strapped on his gun belt and lifted his hat, he crossed to the bed and kissed her on the head. “All day, I’ll think of you here like this and long for the night.”

He was gone before she could answer. Without giving any thought of what was proper, she curled back under the covers and went to sleep in his bed.

Her day could wait a little longer to begin.

Chapter 10

By the time Michael reached the barn, he’d calmed some. Another night of touching his wife without making love to her would surely kill him, but he’d gladly die. He’d known she wasn’t sleeping after he’d pulled away in the night. He’d lain awake angry at how she’d reacted when he’d told her he wanted her. Surely she wasn’t so young to believe that all they were playing was a game.

When he’d left her bed and gone back into his room, he’d still been angry and hurt. She was spoiled and he appeared to be no more than a puppet husband. She’d hardly noticed how he’d been organizing the ranch and getting it running back on track.

Then, she’d come to his room, tiptoeing like a child and looking every ounce a woman in her thin gown that hid little

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