The Cowboy Imports a Bride (Page 51)

The Cowboy Imports a Bride (Cowboys of Chance Creek #3)(51)
Author: Cora Seton

Rob rounded on her. "For real? Or is this another practical joke?"

She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a kiss. "You’ll have to wait nine months to see."

* * * * *

Morgan knew their friends expected them to head straight to Chance Creek airport and on to Aruba, where they’d decided to spend their honeymoon. Their flight didn’t leave until early the next morning, however. First they planned a night out under the stars.

They snuck down the lane to the Double-Bar-K in Rob’s truck until he swerved off on a dirt track that led out to their land. The thought of what they’d gotten up to last time they’d been out this way – a month ago at Claire and Jamie’s wedding – had her pulse racing.

This time there were no boundaries they couldn’t cross. This time they could do anything they chose. Although they’d been together before, she knew that this was the true start of their life together and the full expression of their love.

She couldn’t wait.

When he cut the engine, Rob reached behind them and pulled out a canvas duffel bag and a picnic basket. Morgan joined him outside, shivering a little in the cool air.

"I won’t build a fire – we don’t want unwelcome guests," Rob said, "but I brought these." He pulled out a thick blanket and spread it out on the ground, then handed another one to her. She shook it out and draped it around her shoulders like a cloak, watching the man she loved pull out other provisions from the bag and basket. A bottle of champagne and two glasses, a loaf of bread and hunk of cheese, even a pillow. "I want you to be comfortable," he said with a grin.

"What would you have done if it rained?"

"I’ve got a tent in the truck. I can go get it if you want."

She shook her head. She wanted nothing between her and those stars. Nothing except Rob.

She appreciated the thought he’d put into this night, but right now she didn’t want champagne or snacks; she wanted him. He must have guessed what she was thinking, for he pushed the food away and reached out for her.

Morgan joined him gladly on the blanket and sighed when he bent to kiss her.

"How are you doing, wife of mine?" he asked, tracing the contour of her jaw with a finger.

"I’m doing fine. How about you, husband?"

He swept her into his arms with a groan, and it was all too evident exactly how he was doing. Morgan came up from his embrace laughing with joy.

"Are you going to get me naked or not?"

"With pleasure." He turned her around and fumbled with the long row of tiny buttons that held her dress together. "What kind of torture is this?" he asked after a long moment.

"It’s a test of your dexterity," she said, as eager as he was to get them undone.

"I’ll prove my dexterity to you in a minute, as soon as I get this thing off of you," he growled, kissing the back of her neck and tickling her ear with his breath. "There. I think I’ve got it."

She turned around, slid the gown off and stood before him in a white lace bra and garter set. She remembered how much he’d liked this kind of get up the last time they were here and she hoped the sight of it would propel him to similar feats of passion.

"Don’t you look a sight," he said, leaning back to take in the view.

"Your turn," she said, and stood watching, hands on hips, as he obediently stripped down.

"I’d ask you which way you want to do this," he said as he approached, took her hands in his own, and pulled her in tight, "except it doesn’t matter because we’re going to try them all before the night’s through."

"Oh, yeah?" she said as he tugged her down to the blanket. He leaned her back, supporting her as she lay down, then covered her with his own body. He tugged the second blanket over the top of them since the night had grown cool.

"Yeah," he said, and kissed her again. Lifting her arms above her head, he captured them in one hand, then used the other one to stroke and knead and squeeze her until she hummed with desire. He kissed her everywhere, from her forehead to her nose, to first one breast, then the other, weaving back and forth until she felt that her skin would soon catch fire. When he slid lower, she kept her arms above her head, clutching at the tough grass and weeds that grew all over this rangeland. When Rob tossed the blanket away, she welcome the cool touch of the night air on her skin. She wanted to be naked, wanted the sky and stars and all creation to witness this love of theirs.

Rob slid his hands under her ass and lifted her, dipping his head to taste her and drink in every inch of her beauty. She moved beneath him, slowly and sensually, joining him in this intimate dance.

When he moved back up to join her, pressing the length of him to her aching core, Morgan could barely contain herself. She wanted him inside her, wanted him to make love to her.

"Is this okay?" he asked, pushing forward an inch, nudging open her folds, giving her the tiniest taste of the sensations to come.

"Yes," she said, "but no fooling around this time. I want it hard and fast and powerful. I want it all."

"Yes, ma’am," Rob said, and plunged into her with a swift, hard stroke.

Morgan cried out as he pulled out and thrust in again, and then they were off and running, Rob’s strong, fast strokes lifting her swiftly to a peak of desire. He wrapped his arms around her, crushing her against him, plunging in and out until Morgan could hardly breathe. She held on for dear life, trusting him utterly to bring both of them to the brink, and when they fell over the cliff together, they called out as one, their cries echoing in the night air.

Rob cradled her then, stroking her hair, her face, her body, until her breathing evened out again. He kissed her forehead and down her nose to her lips, lingered there for long minutes.

"Are you okay?" he asked finally. "I wasn’t too rough?"

"No," she said, a smile curving the corners of her mouth. "Just rough enough."

"You want to sleep a little? Or eat something?"

She could tell from his tenderness Rob didn’t quite believe her – that he was feeling tentative, maybe even ashamed of the physicality of the way he’d made love to her. She had to nip that right in the bud. She wriggled until he relaxed his hold on her, then got to her feet and reached out for his hand.

"Where are we going? Is something wrong?"

Morgan didn’t bother to speak. Instead she led the way to the same fallen log she’d braced herself against a month ago, leaned forward to place her hands on it, and spread her legs. She heard his breath hitch and a moment later felt him take his place behind her.