His Bewildering Bride (The Brides of Paradise Ranch - Spicy Version Book 3) (12 page)

“How do these things work?” He gave up with a laugh, grasping Wendy’s waist and turning her to the side.

“Hooks, ties, all sorts of things,” she answered through her own giggles. “You’d better let me do it.”

“Right.” He took a step back and tugged his shirt up over his head. “I’ll meet you in there.” He nodded to the bed.

A zip of wild energy shot up Wendy’s spine as he pulled his undershirt off. His chest was every bit as broad and muscled as she’d imagined it would be. His arms and chest were those of a man who was used to manual labor. She had felt their power as he embraced her, but now she wanted to run her hands along the line of his shoulders, the plain of his abdomen. A dusting of hair spread across his chest, and his dark nipples stood out in contrast to his light skin. She only had time to contemplate the line of hair running down below the waist of his trousers for a moment before he unfastened those trousers and let them drop.

The tall, proud length of his manhood leapt up from its confinement as he pushed his trousers down and stepped out of them and his boots. Wendy caught her breath. He was powerful and majestic and aroused. She knew about anatomy from her few forays into menswear, but to see a man’s organ so engorged and excited, knowing she was the cause and the focus of that arousal, sent a delicious ache pulsing between her legs. That ache increased when Travis straightened with a wicked grin teasing his lips.

“Like what you see?” he asked, eyes blazing with desire.

Wendy blinked. Her hands were still motionless behind her at the clasp of her skirt. A tickle of laughter and desire spread through her. His raw, sensual beauty had stunned her into motionlessness.

“Yes, I do,” she answered at last, working furiously at her skirt’s closures. She loosened them and was able to step out of her dress, but not fast enough for her body’s urgings.

Travis’s expression twitched, and with just a hint of reticence he asked, “Ever seen one before?”

Wendy shook her head as she worked the clasps of her corset. “Not like that.”

Travis’s grin returned. “Good.”

He took himself in hand and stroked. Wendy caught her breath, arms dropping to her sides as she finished with her corset and let it drop. Her whole body flushed with heat as she watched him handle himself. It was a revelation. Judging by the passionate fire in Travis’s eyes, it gave him pleasure. She was seized with the urge to touch him herself, to mimic the motions he was using and more. Perhaps that was the point. He was subtly teaching her what to do.

That thought too fled from her mind as she wriggled out of her chemise and drawers and stockings. She paused for only a moment to stand naked in front of him before stepping over the pile of her clothes and into his arms. The shock of skin against skin—heat and strength and urgency—pushed the air right out of Wendy’s lungs. Travis’s arms closed around her and one of his hands reached to squeeze her backside. That combined with the pressure of his staff pressed between them and her breasts flush with his muscle left her sighing aloud.

His lips sought out hers as his other hand cupped one of her breasts from the side. All of it was a beautiful wonder. She opened to him, taking as much as he did as she slid her tongue against his to explore his mouth. Instinct guided her in spite of her lack of experience. She didn’t need to know what she was doing to know what she wanted, and right then, what she wanted was for the touching to continue, to deepen.

“Weren’t we supposed to meet in bed?” Travis asked, panting, as his hands continued their exploration.

“Since when have we done anything the way it’s been planned?” she half-laughed, half-mewled.

His answering laughter reverberated through his chest, shaking her and sending her senses soaring. “We always manage to get things done in the end.”

He shifted to lift her. Wendy wrapped her legs around his waist on instinct, then gasped at the burst of friction in her most sensitive spot as his staff rubbed against her. A wavering, needy cry escaped from her as he pivoted and walked with her around the corner of the bed. Each step rubbed him against her, to the point where she needed desperately to rub back. The movement was so close to being perfect, and so far from it at the same time.

Travis reached the side of the bed and climbed on top of it with her. They stretched out perpendicular to how a bed was meant to be used, but neither of them cared. Wendy reached for Travis, caressing his face and threading her fingers in his hair to pull him down for another kiss. Their mouths met in a hungry dance of tongues and lips. The cool swirl of air that brushed against her skin formed a heady contrast with the heat of Travis’s body. He balanced above her with one arm braced against the bed. His other hand caressed her full breast, squeezing and molding while his thumb raked across her nipple. She still had her hips open, her legs wrapped around his waist, and he teased her by grinding against her, his length hot and hard as it stroked a part of her that felt as if it might burst.

“Travis,” she panted. “I want you. I want all of you.”

“And I want you,” he echoed.

But rather than taking her, he kissed his way down the line of her neck and across her collarbone until his mouth and tongue mirrored the ministrations of his hand on her breast. He kissed the swell of her breast, then closed his mouth over her nipple, flicking it with his tongue and sucking. Wendy moaned with the pleasure he brought out in her, arching up to him. Her fingers curled in his hair, their tips pressing into his scalp. She wanted more, so much more, but she wanted to give him pleasure as well.

“You’re so beautiful,” Travis whispered, switching to suckle her other breast. “So sensual.”

She could only moan and writhe in response, letting her body take over. It was almost as if she knew what to do, how to respond to him. The coil of propriety, every ounce of sophistication and pride she’d put on to present a strong front over the years, slipped and unwound, leaving her with the desire to be wanton in every way for her husband.

Travis kissed his way down from her breast to her stomach, but as he did, he circled both hands around her breasts, then lightly pinched both nipples at once. The tiny mix of fleeting pain with pleasure nearly brought Wendy off the bed and left her crying out with passion. Travis answered with a growl of approval that vibrated against her abdomen as he raked his lips lower and lower.

She didn’t fully realize the position she was in until Travis raked his hands down her sides and gripped her thighs, holding them wide apart. She was completely exposed to him as he knelt on the floor between her open legs. A split second of self-consciousness filled her before he reached to tease the most sensitive part of her apart with his fingertips.

“Travis—”

She didn’t have time for anything else before his mouth closed over the part of her that was on fire for him. She gripped the bedcovers and arched off the bed as his tongue grazed across the sensitive nub of her desire. Her mind reeled, but before it could balk at the extreme intimacy of her husband’s actions, fierce desire shut down all thought. She panted with pleasure as his tongue continued to tease her. Nothing had ever felt so good. Her entire being flared to life, stretching, reaching, aching for fulfillment.

He shifted just enough to slide his hand along the pulsing, wet entrance to her womanhood while his mouth continued its work. Wendy wasn’t sure if her eyes were open or closed as he teased first one and then two fingers inside of her. Her panting turned to moaning as the pressure inside of her built and built at his invasion, loving it, but wanting more. And then, as he worked his fingers in and out of her, the dam burst.

With a gasp and a sigh, she was sucked under by a wave of pleasure so intense all she could do was feel. It pulsed through her like a sunburst in her core, reaching through to her fingers and toes.

“Yes,” Travis whispered, rising up over her again. He kissed her stomach, breasts, collar, neck, and finally her lips as he covered her. “Yes, my love.”

This time, he didn’t stop to tease or rub against her. Wendy had only a moment’s warning, the pressure of the tip of his penis against her still shuddering opening, before he thrust into her. Her body was still throbbing with pleasure, and if there was a moment of pain—as she’d always been told to expect—she didn’t notice it. All she could feel was the shattering pleasure of her husband filling her. The fullness of him inside of her was so incredible that she cried out with each of his thrusts, her head tilted back.

She clasped him to her with both her arms and legs, digging her fingertips into his back as his thrusts grew more urgent. It felt so good to be there for him this way, to hold him as he found his pleasure in her and to take her own pleasure from him, that tears stung her eyes. None of the problems or challenges they faced meant a thing. They belonged to each other. They belonged together.

At last, Travis’s thrusts and cries grew pitched, and his whole body tensed. He let out a desperate growl, then slowly began to relax. Wendy held him as his body loosened, his thrusts slowed to a stop, and a glow of contentment enveloped both of them. He lost all energy, and for a moment he stopped entirely, still inside of her. He was hot, heavy, and panting, but nothing had ever felt so right in Wendy’s entire life. She lay there with her husband in her arms, stroking his back and running her fingers through his hair.

It took a while for Travis to muster the energy to move, and even longer for him to speak. They managed to find their way between the sheets the right way around. Travis lay on his back, and Wendy curled herself around him, her leg draped over his and her arm across his chest as she nuzzled his shoulder. She hadn’t known contentment could run quite so deep.

Until Travis gasped.

“What?” She tensed, holding him closer.

A moment later, he dissolved into laughter. “We were supposed to go back down to the ballroom to sew at six-thirty.”

Wendy blinked, her passion-sated mind catching up. She laughed. “We could still go?”

Travis made a noise, and rolled her to her back under the sheets. “Or we could not.”

She circled her arms around his neck, letting out a breath and writhing under him. “Or we could not.”

Travis kissed her, long and lingering. The faintest hint of tension took over from his sated amusement. “We’ll make this work,” he murmured.

“Hmm?” As far as Wendy was concerned, there was nothing in the world besides the two of them there in bed.

“Whatever it takes,” Travis went on. “Whatever it means. We will make this marriage work.”

Wendy pressed a smile into the salty warmth of his shoulder. “I know we will, my love. How could we not?”

Chapter Ten

Sunday morning dawned over Haskell with as much excitement as if it were Christmas. The ladies of Haskell lined up in the lobby of The Cattleman Hotel first thing, ready to don their dresses for a final fitting and to wear to church. The buzz of excited conversation was almost enough to reach upstairs to the guest rooms.

Almost.

Wendy stretched and breathed a contented sigh, her leg sliding down along Travis’s as she uncoiled herself from his side. The competition knocked away at the back of her mind, but for the moment, all she wanted to think about was the salty tang of her husband’s skin and the steadiness of his chest rising and falling beside her.

“Is it morning already?” he asked, stretching away.

“I’d rather it wasn’t.”

Wendy followed her comment with a low laugh. It was a small miracle that she’d been able to get any work done at all in the last two days, since that glorious night when Travis had followed her up to her room. They’d kissed and caressed and explored all through that night, then put on masks of innocence and determination when they went down to the ballroom on Friday to work on the dresses. Travis had made a trip out to Paradise Ranch to gather his belongings over lunch on Friday, and by that night, half the town knew that he had moved into the hotel with her. Whispers had flown back and forth that Bonneville wasn’t happy, but Bonneville had also been banned from the hotel until the competition was over.

Travis rolled to his side, pulling Wendy into his arms and kissing her forehead, her nose, and then her lips. “Are you ready to go down there and win yourself a dress shop?”

Wendy laughed, suddenly nervous. “Who’s to say I’ll actually win?”

“Me.”

He grinned, slipping a hand around to the small of her back and tugging her close. They hadn’t bothered putting on nightclothes after their activity the evening before, and Wendy’s body flared to life as skin pressed against skin. She didn’t suppose she would ever be able to feel the heat of her husband’s body without wanting him.

Travis leaned in for another kiss. As desperately as Wendy wanted to let go of everything and rekindle her newfound passion in his arms, sense got the better of her. She barely let her lips touch his before wriggling free with a reluctant sigh.

“It’s past seven already,” she said, climbing out of bed.

“So?”

She glanced over her shoulder, only to find that Travis had rolled all the way to his stomach and now rested his chin on his crossed arms as he raked her naked body with a lover’s gaze.

“I love every inch of you,” he said before she could answer his question.

Breath caught in Wendy’s lungs. “You…do?” Passion was something they’d explored for hours in the last few days, but love?

“I love the way your skin heats up when I touch it.” He inched his way to the edge of the bed. “I love your curves. I love how long and limber your arms and legs are.” He swung his legs over the end of the bed and stood. Several parts of him stood, stiff and tall, as he stalked toward her. “And I love the way you look at me like your soul is on fire.”

She gasped and shivered as he reached her, wrapping his arms around her with gentle insistence. He still stood behind her, his swollen staff pressing into her backside as he reached around to cradle one of her breasts.

“But most of all,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder, then her neck, then the base of her ear. “I love the way that you don’t give up, no matter how tough the competition and no matter how badly they cheat.”

She let out a shaky laugh as the fire within her slowly rose to an inferno. One glance at the clock on the room’s mantelpiece told her there wasn’t any time for fooling around, but she ground her backside against his erection anyhow.

Travis responded with a sharp intake of breath. “I love how proud and how bold you are,” he went on rolling her nipple under his thumb until it was pert and aching. “And I love how, no matter what happens, today or tomorrow or next week, I know that you’ll fight for what you want.”

The noise she made in answer was far more wanton than she’d intended, but she couldn’t help herself. She reached back until her hand spread across his thigh and hip. He jerked against her at the touch, tense as a tiger.

“I want you,” she whispered. “Everything else is extra.”

He inched forward, steering her toward one of the wingback chairs on either side of the fireplace. “No, it shouldn’t be extra,” he murmured against her ear, his hands sliding down to grip her hips. “You deserve it all—your shop, a house, a family—and I won’t rest until it’s all yours.”

He maneuvered her right to the chair, tipping her forward just enough for her to get an idea of what he planned to do. She drew in a breath, her heart raced, and the part of her that ached for him throbbed with need. And yet, her mind was wrenched in two different directions.

“Bonneville,” she managed. “His contract.”

“Ssh.” It was both a comfort and a command. “He can’t touch us.”

As he finished, he gripped her hips and lifted. Sensing what he wanted, she raised her knees to the chair’s arms and gripped the back. The position spread her hips, keeping her at just the right height for Travis to—

“Oh!” She gasped and shuddered as he thrust up and sheathed himself inside of her, more creative than she could have imagined. He kept his grip firm on her hips and guided her down to take him more deeply. So deep, in fact, that in an instant, her already heated body was near the edge.

“I love you because I love you,” he whispered as he set a furious rhythm.

It didn’t matter that his words were next to nonsense. She responded, body and soul, fingers digging into the plush of the chair as his thrusts increased. Somehow he managed to cheat a hand along the front of her hip, his fingers slid between her curls, brushing the tight heat of her clitoris.

Wendy let out a mewl of urgent pleasure. She let go of the chair with one hand, grasping his hand and pressing it into her. It was brazen. She felt wicked in the best possible way doing it. Her heavy breasts jumped with his thrusts, and she caught herself crying out and grinding harder against his hand as his thrusts claimed her. Then all at once, she came apart, gasping with pleasure as her body sang for joy. Travis followed, crying out at his own release a moment later.

A moment later, the two of them slumped together into the chair, limp and spent, sweating, but more alive than Wendy ever thought she’d be. The trickling sensation down her thigh as he withdrew only underscored how much they had shared in their sudden moment of passion. She arched back against him as they stood. Still panting, Travis circled his arms around her, one hand claiming a breast, the other inching down to cover her mound. Mad as she was, she still wanted more.

At least until her half-closed eyes settled on the clock.

“Good heavens,” she panted for an entirely different reason. “It’s ten ’til eight.”

“What?” Travis’s question was low and hazy.

“We’re supposed to be downstairs in ten minutes to fit and finish the dresses.”

Somehow, she managed to pull herself out of her husband’s arms and race to the washbowl and pitcher on the table in the corner. Her legs felt like rubber as she splashed water into the bowl and set about frantically washing up.

“Ten minutes?” Travis joined her at the wash table, his mind only just catching up.

All of Wendy’s panic turned to laughter as she glanced sideways and saw his beet-red face. “We’re in a fine state,” she managed, running the damp rag across her overheated body.

“You can say that again.” Travis met her eyes with a good amount of horror, then burst into laughter himself.

By some miracle, they managed to clean themselves up enough to be presentable, and to dress in Sunday clothes. By eight-fifteen, they were rushing down the hotel’s main staircase, hand in hand. The ballroom doors were already open, and a small crowd waited around Wendy’s table.

“There you are.” Estelle Tremaine, breathed out a sigh of relief as Wendy and Travis hurried over to the rack of dresses. “Whatever kept the two of you upstairs for so long?”

Wendy exchanged a guilty glance with Travis. His face was still bright red, and she was certain hers wasn’t any better.

“Overslept.” Travis gave their excuse, then crossed behind Wendy, disappearing on the other side of the rack of dresses where he could hide.

“Mmm hmm.” Estelle crossed her arms and grinned at Wendy. Katie Murphy, Olivia Garrett, and Lucy Faraday—also waiting for their dresses—gave her the same sort of look.

“We were newlyweds once too,” Lucy said.

“But never mind that,” Katie cut her off. “I want to try on my dress.”

The next hour was a flurry of activity—far too much for Wendy to keep the scandalous things she and Travis had done not more than half an hour before in her mind.

“It’s too tight,” Mrs. Kline lamented at the other side of the room.

“It is not.” Melinda argued with her. “You’ve just been eating too many of those bonbons your husband sells.”

“Why, I never,” Mrs. Kline balked.

“Oh, really?” Melinda sassed her.

“This hem is a bit uneven,” Mrs. Plover said.

Wendy spared enough of a glance to see that, yes, the left side of the dress Melinda had made for Mrs. Plover was a good six inches higher than the right side.

“That’s Honoria’s fault,” Melinda snapped. “
My
design was flawless.”

“I didn’t sew Mrs. Plover’s hem,” Honoria said, almost too quiet for Wendy to hear as she repined a bit of lace on Estelle’s gown.

“Shut up, Honoria!” Melinda shouted.

Wendy’s heart went out to Honoria, but there wasn’t time for much more than that. “A few stitches right here and this lace will lay perfectly,” she smiled at Estelle.

“It’s beautiful,” Estelle sighed. “And it fits me like a glove.”

“Well done, Wendy,” Lucy said.

“Well done,
Travis
,” Wendy corrected her. “He sewed almost all of the seams on Estelle’s dress.”

The ladies hummed their surprise and approval.

“Good job,” Lucy congratulated Travis, who was still trying to hide behind the table while Wendy finished with details.

“Anything I could do to help my wife,” Travis replied.

“So I suppose you’ll be looking for a job in her dress shop now,” Lucy went on. “Considering Rex Bonneville’s gone and hired Billy Reeder for that job we all thought you were going to take.”

Wendy poked herself with the needle as she sewed Estelle’s lace. “What?” She jerked her head up from her work.

Across the table, Travis’s eyes had gone round and his jaw had hardened.

Lucy blushed and slapped a hand to her mouth. A moment later, she pulled it away. “Didn’t you know?”

“Know what?” Travis asked.

“That Bonneville threw you over and gave your job to Billy on Friday,” Katie said. “Everyone in town knows.”

“I’ve been busy.” Travis ran a hand through his hair.

Wendy finished with Estelle’s lace, clipped the tail of the thread, then turned to Travis. “It’s all right. We’ll figure something out. We’ll—”

“Ladies.” Mr. Gunn strode into the ballroom clapping their hands to get everyone’s attention. “Mrs. Montrose, Miss Bonneville, please put your needles down. Time is up.”

Time was up. Travis had never been so sure of anything in his life. His job with Bonneville was gone. His job with Howard too. There he was, jobless with a wife to support, living in a hotel. He could have punched himself in the face…or maybe a little lower. For the last few days, all he could think about was how beautiful and talented and passionate his wife was. All he wanted to do when they weren’t working side-by-side to achieve her dreams was slip around between the sheets with her. But his blind desire and his good intentions had ruined him.

“It
will
be all right,” Wendy insisted, taking his arm and marching him out of the ballroom along with the parade of ladies in their new dresses.

“I’ve let you down,” he muttered, furious with himself. “That will never be all right.”

Wendy tugged him to a stop. Everyone else swept ahead, chattering at they left the hotel.

“Travis, you are the only person I know who has never let me down.”

He shook his head, neck stiff. “I let a good job slip through my fingers. Two good jobs. How am I supposed to uphold my wedding vows to protect and provide for you now?”

“I don’t recall protecting and providing being explicitly
your
responsibility in those vows.” She swayed toward him, going on before he could argue. “You have done more to love, honor, and cherish me than anyone ever has. You supported my dream when most men would have demanded I give up sewing to keep house for them. You made that booth for me and you picked up a needle and sewed for me.”

The gnawing frustration in Travis’s gut subsided a little. “I did.” He breathed out a sigh. “But that doesn’t change the fact that we have no place to live.”