Promises Linger (Promise Series) (11 page)

At first, the pressure was light. Little pulses that tripped lightly over her skin in an intriguing invitation. Following his lead, she pushed up when he pushed forward. It was pleasurable, but it wasn’t enough. Maybe not for him either, because beneath her hands, his skin became slick with sweat and his breath was no longer controlled and even.

His “Hold on” was enticement itself.

His thigh muscles bunched beneath her grip before he surged against her.

Suddenly what had been pleasurable verged on pain. She couldn’t prevent her instinctive flinch. “Easy, darlin’.”

On the next surge, she gasped.

Asa swore.

On the third attempt, she pushed against his shoulders and twisted away. This was worse than anyone had warned her about.

Asa threw himself to the side. The mattress rocked and his curses echoed through the darkness.

It was only when she felt him throw his legs over the edge of the bed that she realized what she’d done.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she heard the rustle of his denims. “I’m ready.”

“Forget it. This whole idea is crazy.”

Panic of a different sort took root in her chest. “No. It’s an excellent idea. I’m just more nervous than most, I guess.”

He shifted away. Her panic burgeoned into full life. “I can do this.”

“It’s okay, Elizabeth.” He sounded utterly weary. “A yahoo like myself had no place hooking up with a lady.”

He was leaving. Walking away from her and their deal. Oh God, she had to do something! She couldn’t let him leave. She had to prove to him she could be a wife. More than that, she had to do it now. Immediately in a way he couldn’t ignore. She remembered what Brent had tried to make her do. How he’d wanted her to put her mouth on his manhood, hitting her when she refused. He’d said it was what all men wanted. What they craved. The lust on his face as he’d forced her mouth toward his groin had made her believe every word he’d said. Maybe Asa was like Brent in this one way. Maybe if she did this, he’d reconsider. There was only one way to find out. If she were wrong, it wouldn’t be any more embarrassing than having to face the town people when husband number two up and left.

She scrambled to her knees as Asa stood. Reaching out, her hands connected with his bare chest.

“I can do this, Asa. I can.”

His hands caught hers. “It’s all right. I don’t think any less of you.”

But he did, otherwise he wouldn’t be leaving her bed. Other women did this daily. It was only her own cowardice that held her back. She would not lose everything to cowardice.

With a moan, she launched herself at Asa, trusting his grip to keep her from falling. The air left his lungs in a surprised
oof
as her nose smashed into his hard belly. His arousal brushed her cheek, and she offered a prayer of thanks that he still wanted her. All was not lost. Before she lost the opportunity, she opened her mouth and turned her head. Her aim was off. His manhood brushed the corner of her mouth. So was her estimate of his size. She forced her jaws as wide as she could, and took him into her mouth. To her surprise, it wasn’t repulsive.

He lay heavy and hard against her tongue, with that breathless immobility that signified deep horror or agonizing anticipation. With the tip of her tongue, she experimented tracing the flared head. The flesh was hard and yet intriguingly resilient. She pushed tentatively in the center. The effect on Asa was like a bolt of lightning striking his body. He jerked upright, almost unseating his manhood. To keep him trapped, she wrapped her lips as tightly as she could around his impressive width and sucked hard.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” Asa’s curse rang harshly above her head. His grip on her hands tightened painfully. She fought the upward pressure. She had his attention. For once, Brent had been right about something. Asa wanted this. With a bob of her head, she took him deeper. While his hands pushed her away, his hips followed wherever her mouth led. The helpless surge of his hips as he pressed his manhood deeper, was a balm to her pride. She could do this. She flicked the tip of his manhood with her tongue. His hips jerked reflexively. When she swallowed him deep, he moaned and pushed harder. Obviously wanting more. And she took it. Every thrust, every moan, every hard surge because this was what she wanted, too. To know she was woman enough to hold him. To keep him. To do what needed to be done. To know she wasn’t hopeless.

The battle of wills ended before she was ready. Her strength was no match for Asa’s, and the battle for supremacy was over when he said it was. One second she was winning, and the next she was flat on her back, trying to sort up from down as Asa dragged her to the edge of the bed. Her legs dangled helplessly. His hands anchored hers at her shoulders. She held her breath as he wedged his huge manhood between her legs. Like before, he nestled into that sensitive valley. The only sound in the room was his labored breathing as he rubbed the thick head over her moist flesh. His movements were rougher now. Less controlled. His push was more of a shove. She bit her lip against the pain. She wrapped her legs around his hips and whispered, “Make me your wife, Asa.”

As if she’d applied spurs to his flesh, he swore and jerked against her. His fingers dug into her hips as he yanked her toward him. Once, twice, and then his hot seed poured over her woman’s flesh. With a groan of her name, he fell against her, his chest squashing her with every labored breath. It was done, she realized, shifting under his weight. The marriage was consummated. Waves of relief swept over her. She’d pushed aside her feminine weakness and done what was necessary. Asa was no more free to walk away than she was. The land was safe, and so was she. She shuddered and let the darkness come.

Chapter Five

Morning came damned early when a man had regrets about the night before. It wasn’t the first time Asa had realized this, but it was the first time he’d felt the regret so keenly. It might have something to do with the way Elizabeth was bustling around the small kitchen, a picture of wifely contentment. Damn, the woman was so green she didn’t even know she’d been shortchanged. He sipped his coffee and listened as she hummed. How the hell was he supposed to explain to her she was still a virgin? That he’d been so hot for her, he’d gone off like a firecracker? Hell, what man in his right mind even confessed something so humiliating to his wife?

Then again, how could he not? The first time they made love for real, she was bound to take note. Especially if first times were as painful as he’d heard. He looked Elizabeth up and down from her white shirtwaist to her black shoes peeking from beneath her navy blue skirt. Hell, there wasn’t enough of her to play in a strong wind. He’d probably about kill her if they ever did get around to a real first time.

Which brought him to another question winging around his mind. Where in hell had she gotten the notion to use her mouth on him? No woman had ever done that for him before. He didn’t expect it of whores, and he sure hadn’t planned on asking for it from a lady. Especially one as proper as his wife. Brent popped immediately to mind. The man was a bully, all right. He wouldn’t think twice about putting his own pleasure above a woman’s. Even on their wedding night.

Asa shot Elizabeth another sidelong glare. That was another thing he planned on his wife learning. He wasn’t a selfish man. Last night hadn’t been normal for him. She’d caught him by surprise, that was all. He blamed the novelty for his mad rush to the finish line.

He leaned back when Elizabeth came to the table to remove his plate. The sweet high curves of her breasts came into view. He imagined he could see her nipples through the material of her dress. He remembered how they’d felt against his tongue, round, hard, demanding. And realized he was aroused. Again.

He groaned under his breath. He was pretty sure Miss Penelope had all sorts of rules against husbands and wives coming together while the sun still shone.

He grabbed his coffee in disgust. He moved so fast, some sloshed over the brim. “Shit!”

The curse exploded into the air. Hearing it, Elizabeth took a steadying breath. Dealing with an angry man took patience. Control. Calm. Everything she didn’t feel at this moment. As far as she could see, her husband had nothing to be cursing about. That being the case, she’d much rather bring the frying pan down on his belligerent head, but, as she expected all she’d accomplish would be a denting of her best pan, she needed to come up with another plan. She turned away from the stove. It was immediately obvious why Asa was mad. He’d spilled hot coffee down his shirt.

“Are you okay?” she asked with what she hoped was an appropriate amount of wifely concern.

“I’m fine,” he snapped.

As if she hadn’t heard the anger in his tone, she handed him a napkin. “This may help.”

“Thanks.” He took it and had the grace to look ashamed for his curt answer in the face of her courtesy. At least, she preferred to assume it was shame. Thinking he had some sense of common decency made it easier to hold her temper. The man had been a bear ever since she’d brought him warm wash water this morning. He’d gone from astonishment when she’d carried it into the room to anger by the time she’d left with his dirty clothes. Her hopes that he was just grumpy when first up had been dashed when he’d come downstairs. He’d been pensive and snappy through three helpings of breakfast.

She watched as he tossed back the last of his coffee. She hefted the pot and carried it to the table. Maybe more coffee would improve his mood. “Would you like more?”

“No.” Apparently, coffee wasn’t the solution for Asa as it had been for her father.

She drew in another breath. The towel she’d wrapped around the speckled handle of the coffee pot fluttered as she strove for patience. “Would you care for more breakfast? There are home fries left and it would only take a few minutes to fry up—”

“I’m not hungry,” he interrupted.

“Are you sure? It’s no trouble.” At least, not as much trouble as his growl.

“I’m sure.” He shot her a look she couldn’t decipher, heaved a sigh that echoed hers, and then expanded in a more natural tone. “After three helpings, I’m not even sure I can move, let alone walk to the bunkhouse and meet the men.”

His attempt at humor came out more forced than funny, but she didn’t care. At least he was making an effort. It was a step in the right direction. “You probably have time for another cup.”

He probably had time for two or three. “No thanks. The day’s not gonna wait for me to get a start on it.”

He didn’t have much to worry about, Elizabeth thought, as she headed back to the stove. Especially if he was worried about meeting the hands. One thing was for sure, whatever time he got to the bunkhouse, there would be men aplenty for her husband to meet. Not one cowboy was going to miss meeting the man who’d put Jimmy in his place. A man who could take down a bully commanded respect.

A woman who accomplished the same goal commanded nothing. Bitterness seeped past her guard like a bad habit. She forced the anger back. She’d made her peace with the world when her father had died. From here on out, she was calling the shots in her life and, as the woman in charge, she didn’t want to be at war with her husband. She settled the coffee pot on the iron burner without a clank. “I imagine Jimmy informed everyone that there’s a new boss man and it isn’t Brent.”

“I had plans along those lines, but, if last night’s message didn’t get through, I’ll repeat it this morning.”

Was he planning on beating every hand on the ranch?

She replaced the towel she’d had wrapped around the pot on a peg over the stove. “You could still have problems.” The towel threatened to fall. With a deft move, she flipped it back in place, wishing she could fix everything so easily. “If you’ll wait a minute, I’ll go with you.”

“No need,” he answered. “I’m not so feeble that I need to hide behind a woman’s skirts before passing on orders.”

She gritted her teeth against the humiliation of being dismissed. “I merely thought the common courtesy of an introduction was called for.”

“You women may put a lot of stock in formal introductions, but I’m not courting a gal, I’m running a ranch. Any how-de-do’s that needed saying, I took care of last night.”

“When you beat Jimmy?”

“When I taught Jimmy a lesson on what’s tolerated around here.”

“Jimmy was never tolerated around here.” At least by her. Her father had been a different story altogether.

“Apparently, he didn’t get the message.”

“Apparently.” She grabbed the skillet full of bacon grease and poured the fat into the lard can. The action gave her an excuse not to look at Asa while she tried to make her point without getting him growling again. “Still, there may be some trouble. The men might not take you at your word. If I come with you, I could make sure they know you have my backing. It might ease things.”

“The bunkhouse is no place for a woman.”

She placed the skillet in the wash basin. Patience, she reminded herself while she counted to ten, was a virtue. “I’ve been down to the bunkhouse plenty of times.”

“You have a husband now, darlin’.” A loud grating squeak announced his chair shoving back. “What kind of man would I be if I married up with you and then left you to handle my job as well as yours?”

She bit her tongue. She gripped the cutlery, struggled to hold onto her patience, and tried again. “I don’t mind this one last time.”