Published by: eXtasy Books
Author : Sean MacReady
Word Count :10000
Publication Date :2011-06-19
Series : #
Heat Level :
- Product Code: 00303
How much interference can wedding plans take?
Stormy Wedding is a romance set in the Texas panhandle of the 1850s. Constance wants to marry Erik, even if her father doesn’t approve of him. She really does. But the circuit-riding preacher shows up a week early and a storm is coming and it’s late enough for snow and Mama has to hurry making her dress and their house-raising isn’t until next Saturday and there isn’t enough baking done and—and most of all Constance just isn’t ready.
He felt his way under the covers and slid onto the other side of the bed. When his hand found her shoulder, she flinched. When he tried to pull her toward him, she resisted. Her body would have scooted away, except there was no more bed. "Constance,"
he whispered. "I won't force you. If you can't; I'll wait."
She shuddered. "Oh, please, don't do that to me. I'd just die, worrying over it another day." She took a deep breath and rolled into his arms. When her hands found his chest she thought, He's in my bed naked! It took all her will not to cry out. She felt the tips of his fingers brush across her cheek and around her neck under her braid. He kissed her on her forehead, then pulled her head back so he could reach her lips. He's going too fast, she thought. The kiss lingered. I wish he'd hurry, she thought. His hand slid down her back and pulled her closer until her breasts pillowed against his hard chest. Too fast. The soft friction through the softer flannel stirred her butterflies again. Hurry. The hand roamed lower, and found the top of the cleft in her backside. Too fast. Inch by inch his fingers drew the hem of her nightgown higher. Hurry. He kissed across her cheek and down into the hollow of her shoulder. Too fast. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him deeper.
"I don't deserve you," he said. "Hush," she whispered. "They'll..."
"Hear?" He chuckled. "Mixed blessing." He was breathing too fast to talk plain. "Storm chased us here. But it hides--the sound of--our lovemaking."
Lovemaking echoed inside her. How can he name it so bold? Then his fingers found the soft, bare skin inside her knee. She pulled her leg away, but that opened her thighs to him. He let her roll onto her back and leaned over to kiss her mouth again. His weight settled onto her shoulder and bosom. He touched his way up the inside of her thigh. She thought to close her legs, but instead they opened wider. The hip closest to him ran into something hard. She gasped, her mind filling with gruesome pictures of what unsheathed from a longhorn bull as he prepared to mount a cow. Erik's hand found the soft curls that covered her mound. She arched at the touch and pressed her thigh against his organ. It didn't feel quite as big as a bull's pizzle.
He whispered, "Constance?"
She nodded. Then she realized he couldn't see any better than she could. "I'm ready," she lied.