A Suitable Wife: A Sweetwater Springs Novel (10 page)

He stepped around Dean and Cass, gave Rosie a quick kiss and held up her day planner. “You can’t function without this, so I thought I’d better run it over.”

Ignoring Rosie’s open-mouthed surprise, he turned toward the other couple, and grinned. “She’s getting scatterbrained with all the details of our wedding to plan and her business to run, too.”

“You . . . you’re getting married?” Dean asked, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m surprised you haven’t heard,” Sam answered. Following a hunch, he raked his gaze over Dean deliberately. “You must be Dean and Cass. I’m Sam Moreland.”

Dean hesitated before shaking his hand. Sam rewarded him with a bone-crushing grip that made the man wince.

“
The
Sam Moreland?” Cass squeaked, her eyes large and questioning.

“The only one I know.” Sam noted the quelling glare Dean leveled on the pretty blonde.

The light left her eyes. “Congratulations, Rosie. When is the wedding?”

“A week from Saturday in the park gazebo.”

Sam slid an arm around Rosie’s waist and hugged her to him, trying to ignore how perfectly they fit together. “We’d invite you guys, but we’re keeping it small and intimate considering the time constraints. Mostly family. I’m sure you understand how it is.”

Dean stared at Rosie, one corner of his mouth quirking. “Around these parts, a sudden wedding is usually followed by a premature birth. Are you pregnant, Rosie?”

She jerked beneath Sam’s arm as if she’d been stung.

“Dean! What’s the matter with you?” Cass wrenched away from him and planted her hands on her hips. “Apologize.”

He didn’t acknowledge her, just locked gazes with Rosie in some kind of battle only they understood.

Rosie’s eyes glittered with blue fire. Sam tightened his hold at her waist, fighting a strong urge to deck the guy, but he didn’t dare let go. The way her body trembled, he was afraid she would collapse.

Dean and Rosie appeared to despise one another. Then again, love and hate were practically kissing cousins.

Sam tamped down his own dislike for the man and adopted a coldly polite tone. “Not that it’s any of your business, but we’re marrying quickly because it feels right, and we don’t see any need to wait. We’ve spent enough time alone.” He turned to Rosie, deliberately blocking her view of Dean. “And speaking of time, aren’t you late for an appointment? Better take that planner and scram.”

Panic registered in her face. “Omigod, yes! I’ve gotta go.” She sprinted to her van, wrenched open the door, slid the planner across the seat and froze. In a flash, she was back, her hands framing his face, her mouth moving firmly over his. She broke contact, hugging him fiercely, creating a major heat wave with their bodies pressed so intimately together, and then she was gone. Her whispered words didn’t register until she was in the van and driving away.

That was just because I wanted to.

Oh, man. All the irritation that had plagued him for nearly a week dissipated. Sam didn’t realize he was smiling, until he saw Dean’s scowl. Then it widened into a full-fledged grin.

On some level, Rosie was attracted to him. Maybe she’d be willing to modify the platonic side of their agreement—eventually.

On the way home, he formulated a new plan, a risky one. But sometimes a man had to dig deep and take big risks when big rewards were at stake.

* * *

I
t was nearly nine o’clock that evening when Rosie finally made it home. For several minutes she sat there, leaning against the headrest, eyes closed. All afternoon she’d relived that impulsive kiss, calling herself all kinds of stupid.

What good did it do to dodge Sam most of the week if she was going to launch herself into his arms during a weak moment? She needed a keeper.

But Jeezus Pete, she wasn’t Wonder Woman. Her day, actually her whole week, had been frenzied enough trying to throw together her own wedding and take care of the shop. Knowing Dean’s track record, she couldn’t ignore Cass’s distress call. Listening to the young woman’s fears about his increasing possessiveness and trying to decide how to warn her without divulging personal secrets had added more stress. Then Dean brought his irrational behavior into the picture. He’d almost sent her over the edge, taunting her like he had.

She’d wanted to scratch his eyes out.

Thank goodness Sam had been there.

Little did he know his support had kept her sane, protecting her from a future in the slammer. Despite her best intentions, she was beginning to feel serious interest in him as more than her friend. It didn’t help that he’d walked into the situation like her personal Sir Galahad. There didn’t seem to be any way to stop the slow but steady tumble of her heart.

Hello, you silly rhythmic organ. Remember me? This is so not real, or permanent either, for that matter. Forget that he’s got a big, tender heart beneath that rhetoric about not believing in love.

What was the use?

Telling herself he had no interest in her personally didn’t work. Avoiding him and his darling daughter didn’t work. That just made her lonely, something she hadn’t noticed much before they moved in. Knowing he didn’t deserve her baggage heaped on him didn’t work either. Already, he owned a small piece of her heart, so why fight it? She’d be a goner if he ever decided to turn his considerable charm on full force.

The end result would hurt. That was a given. But she could survive a bruised heart as long as she kept her perspective. Sam didn’t want forever, and she couldn’t consign a man to her brand of it.

Hearing a squeak, Rosie opened her eyes. A delectable masculine feast in jeans and bare feet stood in the opened screen door leading to the back porch. His porch light spilled across the grass and into the twilight.

All she could think about as she stared unabashedly was how perfect his large body had felt pressed against hers that afternoon.

Sam approached her door, opened it and leaned in. “Hey,” he greeted her softly, his voice creating shivers along her spine.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“Get your purse,” he instructed, waiting until she had it in hand before sliding an arm under her knees, the other behind her back. He swung her into his arms effortlessly, as if she hadn’t been the tallest girl in her grade the year he’d left for college, as if she were dainty and weighed next to nothing, like Claire.

She didn’t bother with a weak protest they both knew he’d ignore. Instead she clung to the broad shoulders that had borne more than their share of hurt in someone of Sam’s age.

And here he was, taking care of her.

Rosie squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, fighting back hot tears that would demand answers she couldn’t stand to give. Bringing pity she didn’t want or need. Not from him.

“Can you get the door?” His warm breath blew loose strands of hair against her neck, leaving trails of fire where they touched her overly sensitive skin.

No one had ever made her feel so . . . cherished. She found it impossible to speak around the lump in her throat and opted for a hard shove against the door. It shut with a satisfying click. Sam turned toward the house. With her opening doors, he carried her across the porch, through his kitchen and into his living area where a lamp bathed the room in a soft glow. He sank into the deep cushions of his couch, settled her across his lap and began to unbraid her hair.

The action was soothing, seductive. Rosie fought to keep from leaning into him. “Um . . . where’s Lorelei?”

“Asleep.” Inch by excruciating inch, he combed through the strands with his fingers, increasing her pulse rate and easing her stress at the same time.

How did he
do
that?

A thousand questions swirled in her brain about the why and how of this moment, but she had neither the energy nor inclination to voice them. Especially when his fingers reached her scalp. They performed miraculous, massaging circles, and she relaxed against him. At this moment she was exactly where she wanted to be. Closing her eyes, she succumbed to the delicious sensations. When a moan of pure pleasure escaped her throat, his hands stilled.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Sam’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. Evidence of his desire pressed against her left thigh.

What now? A million possibilities swam through the mud that was her brain tonight, but only one stuck like glue.

CHAPTER NINE

“
I
need a shower,” Rosie said. “Preferably hot and lengthy.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose slightly at her unexpected announcement. A staring contest ensued. A question unasked. No answers given. Pulses throbbed. Chests rose and fell.

Sam broke their visual connection. “I thought you did morning showers.”

She didn’t have to ask how he knew. At times, the old water pipes within these walls could be quite vocal. The urge to escape the awkwardness between them was strong, but moments before he’d broken eye contact, she’d seen a flash of something which looked a lot like disappointment.

The promise of that gave her courage. “That’s right. Nothing revives me like a nice long shower.”

His gaze locked on hers. “I wouldn’t mind taking one myself.”

Rosie bracketed his face with her hands and kissed him thoroughly for hearing the things she couldn’t say. Silently, she thanked him for not making empty promises. He kissed her back with the same intensity.

This she could deal with. It was bittersweet, but honest.

Slowly, they drew apart. Keeping his gaze locked on hers, Sam unbuttoned one button on her blouse, then another.

For a split second, she panicked and stilled his hand. What underwear had she thrown on this morning? Would her body appeal to him? She would never be mistaken for a svelte runway model, that was for sure.

His hard length pressing into her leg told her it didn’t matter.

She eased off his lap, stood on shaky legs and faced him boldly, cleavage exposed, hair wild and tangled. “I . . . need a minute first.”

Sam stood and brushed a thumb across her lower lip, his tender touch sending frissons of pleasure down her spine. “I’ll wait until I hear the shower curtain being drawn.”

She grabbed the elastics he taken from her hair and hesitated. What if indulging their needs tonight destroyed their friendship? What if—

“Rosie.”

She raised her panicked gaze to his calm one. “Are we making a mistake here? We could—”

“Shhh. You’re thinking too much.” He reached for her, slowly drawing her back into a loose embrace, his fingers splayed low on her back. “Kiss me.”

His gentle approach was exactly what she needed to calm her nerves. Almost any other method of seduction, however manly and assertive it might have been, would have intensified the beginnings of panic.

Deep in her core, a slow burning sensation began as he pulled her lower body snug against his. He’d obviously not felt any waning of desire or second thoughts. Tentatively, she brought her mouth to his, sipping at his lips before dipping inside them with her tongue. Sam responded with fervor, taking the kiss to inferno levels.

He withdrew a fraction of an inch. “You’ve got three minutes and I’m coming in that bathroom. Now go.”

The sound of his voice strained with need, set her leg muscles aquiver. Somehow she made it the length of the hallway.

Inside his bathroom, she stopped and leaned against the door, surprised at the changes Sam had made. Her house, her palette of taupe complimented by faded-jeans blue. But he’d made it his own with towels and rugs in wide stripes that matched. A bold fabric shower curtain of geometric shapes—also in her colors—hung on a new curved rod that allowed the bather more space. She peeked inside the shower-tub combo to see a new, oversized showerhead.

Nice
.

It would easily provide a wide enough spray for two.

She turned on the water to warm before making quick work of necessary business and stripping. Once she’d formed a neat pile of clothes, and secured her hair atop her head with the elastics, she faltered, feeling too exposed and vulnerable.

Had it been three minutes already?

With shaking fingers, Rosie adjusted the temperature. This was crazy, this
thing
between her and Sam. She wanted him more than she’d wanted anyone in a long, long time. Even so, she’d rather not meet him totally naked.

With a sudden inspiration, she flicked off the lights. There was no window in the interior walled bath, nothing but all-encompassing darkness. Carefully, she stepped under the spray and drew the curtain and liner with enough force Sam couldn’t miss hearing it.

Her pulse practically leapt through her throat when the door opened and closed.

She shut her eyes, feeling the warm water sluicing over her body, teasing the very places she wanted his hands.

Hurry, Sam!

As if in response to her plea, the curtain slid back and forth.

“Sam?” she whispered.

“In the flesh.” His voice, though deeper and strained, was familiar and safe as he crowded her.

Her eyes flew open but saw nothing. She released her pent-up breath. Thank God he hadn’t turned on the light.

Her palm connected with a wall of warmth lightly sprinkled with hair. Beneath the layers of bone and lean muscle, his heart beat as fast as hers, the steady thump-thump reassuring. She knew this man. He wouldn’t hurt her in the way she’d been hurt before.

Sam stepped forward. His arms folded around her gently, as they had in the living room, his large hands pressing her closer. His erection nudged the inside of her thighs, and she heard a low groan.

Touching his face grounded them both. Their lips met, banked forays of tenderness that threatened to enslave her bruised heart yet hinted at more. Sam nibbled, sucked and kissed his way down her throat. He found a sweet spot at her nape and another at her entrance, tormenting her with mouth and hands until her knees threatened to buckle.

“Turn around,” he whispered into her ear. The rasp in his voice made her stomach clench, and her body readied for him. Desire had eased them past the awkwardness of first-time lovers. She did as he asked, reluctant to leave the circle of his arms, deliberately brushing her breasts and derriere against him.

“Tease,” he accused and nipped her shoulder. His hands withdrew and returned slick with body wash.

The warm water spraying across her nipples intensified Sam’s attentions. Steam rose, filling the air in the small room, adding to the feeling of intimacy. It was an odd sensation, being in complete darkness, and very erotic. She never knew where Sam’s hands would touch her next.

But touch he did, showing no hesitation or lessening of desire that would suggest he didn’t find her body to his liking. She relaxed, delighted he obviously considered her body his personal playground. She tried to return his caresses, but the position was awkward.

“Sam,” she gasped, barely above a whisper. “I need to touch you.”

“I’m all yours.”

No. You’re not. But we can pretend for awhile.

Turning under the spray rinsed most of the soap from her body. Sam poured a generous amount of wash into her open palm and allowed her to return the favor until she took his erection in hand.

She managed two slow, slippery strokes before he stilled the movement with a firm grasp on her wrist.

“No more.”

“I sincerely hope you don’t mean that.”

Sam chuckled, the sound loud in the room. He reached behind the curtain and a small tearing sound followed.

She should let it go, but tonight was all about feeling, and she wanted to experience all of Sam.

“We don’t need that.”

He touched her shoulder. “You’re protected?”

She nodded, hoping he wouldn’t need details. Oh, right. He couldn’t see her. “I . . . yes. And there’s no other need for it.”

“Not for me either. I’d never put you at risk.”

“I know.” She breathed a sigh of relief.

The exchange could have left them feeling awkward, but had the opposite effect. Sam gathered her close, whispering his impatience, fueling her own, though the rapidly cooling spray indicated they should continue elsewhere.

“What’s with the goose bumps?” he growled in her ear.

Rosie giggled. “I’m beginning to get cold. I think we’ve used all the hot water.”

“Do we have to dry off in the dark, too?” Sam shut the water off.

“You didn’t like letting your other senses see me first?”

“Oh, it was . . . inspired. I’ll give you that. Erotic as hell. But I’m dying to see this luscious body of yours.”

Luscious? He thought her body was luscious?

Well, now. The man deserved a reward for a comment like that.

* * *

H
e’d died and gone to heaven.

It was the only explanation Sam could supply for a reality that surpassed his imagination, and in far less time than he’d expected.

Rubbing a towel over his hair while his body dripped water on the carpet, he flicked on a small bedside lamp and looked to see if Rosie had followed.

Hot. Damn.

With an emphasis on hot.

In the dim light filtering across the hall, Rosie stood in profile, like a porcelain statue. The bath towel wrapped around her covered way too much in his estimation. She raised her arms to unwind the bands from her hair, and the towel slipped off, fluttering to the floor as she shook out the glorious mass.

He hadn’t thought it was possible to get any harder than he’d been in that shower.

He’d called it erotic, and it had been. But it had taken Rosie and a darkened room to teach him intimacy.

She reached for the towel.

“No!” The word exploded from him in a harsh whisper.

Her head jerked up, lips parted in surprise.

He raised an index finger to his lips with a conspiratorial grin, reminding her of the need to keep a certain little girl asleep.

They both moved forward, meeting in his doorway. The evaporating water droplets cooled his skin, brought his desire in check. Tugging her inside, he shut out the world, needing her to understand the things welling within him, threatening to burst open. She’d freed him this afternoon with that kiss and a few words. He had to make sure she understood their original agreement still stood.

“Rosie?”

She slid into his arms and nibbled along his collarbone, “Hmm?”

Oh, yeah. That felt good. Somewhere between that shower and his bedroom, she’d become bolder and he wasn’t complaining. Where was he? “A-about this. Uh . . . us.”

“Don’t.” Rosie stilled.

“But—”

“Please? We both know the score. Can’t we just—”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re right.” He struggled not to sound disappointed or relieved as both emotions assaulted him. Damn, where had the disappointment come from? “I’m an idiot.”

Rosie giggled against his shoulder. “Let’s just say your timing is off and shut up now.”

He could do that.

Sam nuzzled her hair aside and sucked on her earlobe, lightly raking his teeth across it. She shivered within his arms, burrowing closer. Clearly, her desire hadn’t waned and his own persevered quite insistently. “Let’s take this to bed.”

“Absolutely.” The breathy quality in her voice distracted him, focused his attention on the way her breasts brushed against his chest. How long had it been since he’d felt this close to someone? Had he ever?

He palmed a plump breast, plucked at the nipple, need spearing through him with her indrawn breath. The bed seemed a mile away. He captured her mouth again, walking backwards, drawing her with him, tumbling them sideways across the turned down duvet.

She looped a leg over his, her eyelids half closed from desire. “I think this was inevitable. We’ve been dancing around this ever since you came back.”

“This?” He focused his attention on the sensitive nub between her thighs. She curled into him with a gasp, demonstrating how perilously close she was to the edge.

He’d take that as a yes.

Even lost in sensation, her mouth and hands sought him. He’d slept with his share of women over the years, but nothing he’d experienced had been like this. Making love with Rosie was almost too intense, and dangerously addicting. He doubted he’d ever forget this night and the feel of her velvety touch.

With one quick move he positioned himself above her. She sought his hands, laced their fingers together. Gazes locked, he sank into her welcoming warmth. With all the foreplay and heightened sensitivity, satisfaction overcame them with a swift intensity.

He lay down beside her, breathing hard. They’d scarcely regained normal lung function, when Sam realized he was still hungry for Rosie. He tugged her into a spooning position and cupped her breast, then tugged at her nipple.

She gasped and arched her butt, grinding her bottom against his hard length. “Again?”

“You complaining?”

“Not me. That feels . . . great. Please—” She gasped again as he pinched and rolled the sensitive nub. “Yeah, that. More.”

He chuckled against her ear, then rimmed her ear with his tongue while complying with her demand.  “I love how responsive you are. How about another position this time?”

“Mmm.” She nodded, her eyes half closed. “I like this one.”

“Better leverage if I’m kneeling behind you.”