Mara McBain (18 page)

“If you aren’t going to wear them, I could make use of them,” she said, trying not to laugh at his battle with the dresser.

“What’re you going to do with them?” he asked, a golden brow arching in question before he snorted and shook his head, waving the question off. “Hell, what do I care? Use them for rags for all I care. It will clear up space.

Giggling at his aggravation, she patted the bed. Ignoring his pajamas, he sat down in his underwear and flipped his ponytail at her.

“Have at it, woman.”

She couldn’t hold back the laughter this time. Taking the tie from his hair, she kissed between his shoulder blades. He rolled his shoulders and murmured his approval when she kissed across the broad span.

“If you’re a good boy after I brush your hair, I’ll massage your shoulders,” she teased.

He chuckled and looked over his shoulder with an incredulous look. “If I’m a good
boy
?” When she just bit her lip and giggled, he shook his head. “Get busy. When you’re done, I’ll show you that I’m all man.”

“Do I have to brush your hair?” she asked with a little whine, kissing his back and giggling again.

“Yep. You started this woman. Hair, shoulders, and then if
you’re
good you’ll get some,” he said firmly, but his lips twitched behind his mustache.

“Yes, Trey,” she murmured sweetly and pulled the brush through his long hair so he groaned in pleasure.

“Good girl,” he purred, his voice dropping to a basement baritone. 

Gen grinned and shivered. That voice did things to her. 

Silence hung between them as she worked all the tangles from his wavy mane. Occasionally she’d lean forward and steal a little taste of his skin, following the scoop of his shoulder blade or the ridge of his collarbone with her lips. Trey didn’t seem to mind. When she was done, she carefully pulled his gleaming hair back, weaving it into a braid. Leaning forward she kissed his ear and whispered,

“I’ll be right back.”

Trey fell back on the bed as she dashed out the door. Where the hell was she going? He owed her an apology, but was loath to break the playful mood they’d fallen into. He stretched his bruised right hand, wincing at the stiffness. The pretty boy’s face had just reminded him of the damage the woodpile had done. He scrubbed his other hand over his face. Gen had been tense as hell when he’d came in. He hated that fear in her eyes. He’d wanted to drop to his knees and swear to her that he’d never hurt a woman, but that little voice had cautioned against it. She’d feared him today, and she had rejected the pretty photographer’s advances. Fear could be a powerful deterrent.

The bed shifted and he turned his head. She smiled shyly at him, a bottle of lotion clutched in her hand. A lazy grin twisted his lips. She had no clue how beautiful she was, or just how often she stole his breath away. Catherine had known and had wielded that power over him like a knife. There was no false airs about Gen, no smug superiority or games. Just a simple, pure honesty and innocence that was as baffling to him at times as it was humbling.

Brushing his thoughts aside, Trey watched the gentle sway of her hips as she crawled across the bed to him. His big hand reached out to trail over the pale satin of one thigh. Her fingers fluttered lightly over his chest, pausing to swirl over the hardened outline of the left pec. His brow quirked at the smirk that plied her lips as his nipple stiffened.

“You keep petting me like that, darlin', and that’s not going to be the only thing that pops up.”

Gen giggled, her eyes dancing at the purposely low rumble of his voice. He bit back another smile, loving the ease and play between them.

“Roll over on your stomach and I’ll massage your back and shoulders,” she urged; that hint of breathlessness in her voice that he loved.

Sitting up, he turned and stretched out length wise, folding his arms under his pillow. He heard the lid on the bottle open and the sound of her hands rubbing together as she warmed the lotion before starting to slowly massage it into his skin. Her strong fingers worked tired muscles, gouging deep. He briefly wondered where she’d learned to give a massage, but quickly squashed the thought as a spark of jealousy threatened. It didn’t matter. Those hands would never touch another man.

He groaned as her thumbs trailed down his spine, pressing into the dip just above his tailbone. She shifted higher on her knees, fingers exploring the knotted muscles. Rolling the waistband of his drawers out of her way, more lotion smeared his lower back. She grunted with the effort, her strong thumbs finding just the spot.

“Oh, yeah, darlin',” he whispered shamelessly.

Straddling the back of his thighs, she massaged until every last strand of tension was gone. He was nearly asleep when her hands cupped the cheeks of his ass, giving them a gentle squeeze. His eyes shot open and Gen tried to abandon her seat. Her brazen touch jolted his banked desire. Reaching back, he caught her arm, holding her in place as he rolled to his back. Shifting her, he settled her across his hips. A raging need seared through him. A low growl tore from his lips as he bucked under her. Her eyes were wide in the gloom. It was his turn to fondle as his hands roamed over her bottom, grinding her down against his growing erection.

Her thighs shook, and only his touch kept her straddling him. Her hands fluttered in the air in front of her as she fought with what to do with them. He caught one and pressed it down to his stomach. She jerked it back like she’d been scalded the moment he released it. He tried again, leaning up to kiss her fingers before flattening her palm against him.

“Touch me, darlin',” he begged, hating himself for asking.

She stroked the whorls of hair around his navel and he groaned, shifting pleadingly under her. Gripping her hips, he arched up into her, his breath ragged. She timidly pulled at his drawers, and he reluctantly released her hips to allow her to help him strip. The sound of ripping material joined the pant of their breath as his effort to remove her nightgown proved clumsy. He grabbed her thighs, spreading her wide over him. His hands shook as he urged her down, slowly impaling her. 

Her mouth opened in a silent scream as she stretched around him. He winced as tears filled her silver eyes. He’d gone too fast for her. Easing his grip, he silently urged her to rise up on her knees. Relief flooded her face. She bit her lip, and eased back down. He closed his eyes as she slowly posted on him. Clenching his hands in the quilt he let her control the pace and depth. The clasp of her body was torturous. Her fingers gently ruffled the golden fur of his treasure trail and he groaned. She moved a little faster. Opening his eyes, he drank in the sight of her sitting tall and proud. His hands slid up her ribcage to cover her jiggling breasts. Relishing the feel of her soft skin against his work roughened hands; he strummed her nipples with his thumbs. An excited flush tinged her skin a light pink. His mouth watered, wanting to taste and mark the pale contours. His hands fell back to grope her soft bottom, and he fought the desire to grab her hips and pound into her.  

Her head shook back and forth, the copper veil of her hair whipping around her. His name came off her lips a keening plea.

“Treeyyyy!”

His finger tips rode the ridge of her hipbones, urging her on without taking her control away. It was killing him. A strangled scream ripped from her throat, and her movements lost all rhythm as she rode him wildly. His big hands cupped her bottom and matched her wild movements with the upward thrust of his hips. His roar rang unchallenged. Pleasure exploded through his body and he wanted the moment to last forever.

When sanity returned she was sprawled over his chest. The pant of her breath tickled. His arm felt like lead as he lifted his hand to tenderly brush hair from her face. Her cheek shifted and she smiled up at him.

“I needed that,” she whispered.

Frowning, he raked his fingers through her copper locks. He’d needed to fill her, claim her, and mark her as his own. What had she needed?

“I know it’s silly, but I feel lo—” Her voice faltered and her eyes left his.

He caught her chin, tilting it up. A blush darkened her features. Something he couldn’t pinpoint flitted through haunted grey eyes. Had it been fear? Shame maybe?

“You feel what?”

Her eyes closed, locking him out. Her head shook softly.

“Yours,” she finally whispered.

The prickle of unease at his nape turned into a chill that traveled his spine. She’d lied to him.

“That isn’t what you were going to say. You know better than to lie to me, Gen,” he said harshly.

Her heart thudded against his chest, but she didn’t flinch away. For a moment, he didn’t think she was going to answer. Her fingers brushed the swell of his chest. Her voice was soft when she finally produced an answer.

“It’s not a lie. Saying that I feel like I’m yours is another way of saying I feel loved. I didn’t want to make you feel awkward.”

His fingers froze in her hair. Swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat, he pondered her words. They made sense. A lot had happened between them in little more than a month. Far from perfect, but the two of them already communicated better than he and Catherine had after four months of courting and a year of marriage. Talking to her wasn’t a chore. When he was away from her during the day, he missed her and looked forward to coming home to her smile. The way she flew into his arms at the end of the day said she missed him as well. He felt his face twist in a frown. Was that the beginnings of love? An image of his mama greeting his daddy pushed from memory and he nodded.

Fear tightened around his heart like a fist. He couldn’t tell her. It was bad enough if the feelings were real, but he couldn’t give her that weapon. He looked down into her eyes. Shame coursed through him. She was being honest with him, and he was hiding. He wet his lips.

"You're mine, darlin', same as I’m yours. You’ve been mine since the day you showed up here. Let's just leave it at that for now, shall we?"

The wind caught the quilt Gen was trying to hang on the line, nearly ripping it from her fingers. Watching her from the bedroom window, fresh guilt washed over Trey. She’d slept as poorly as he had. It had been the early hours before he’d dosed off. She’d obviously taken the chance to flee their bedroom. The fact that she had a load of laundry washed before he got dressed wasn’t lost on him. She’d been up a while.

His failure to say the words had hurt her. She’d flinched like he’d slapped her in the face. He felt sick. She’d recovered well, forcing a smile that fooled no one and murmuring her agreement before they’d gone to clean up. She hadn’t sulked. Unlike Catherine who would’ve presented her back to him and sniffled the rest of the night, Gen had still cuddled into his side when they’d turned out the lights. But there they’d lain until the sun was threatening. He sighed and dropped onto the bed to pull on his socks.

Making his way downstairs, the kitchen was empty. He poured a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter. The beginnings of a headache throbbed at the base of his skull, and he rubbed at it absently. The wind howled outside, whistling around the corner of the house. He took a long swallow of the hot, bitter brew. He was tired, and his head and hand ached. After morning chores, he might just retire to a chair in front of the fireplace.

The back door opened, admitting a cold blast of air and his windblown wife. She leaned her back against the stout wood to latch it and stood there for a minute catching her breath. She startled when she spotted him.

“I’m sorry. Have you been up long?” she asked, tugging off her outdoor clothes.

“I’m still on my first cup,” he answered, tipping his coffee at her.

“The wind is frigid today,” she said, picking up the basket of eggs and stepping to the sink with them. 

“I’m thinking about finding something to do indoors. I got a stack of bookkeeping I’ve been putting off.”

She gave him a funny look. He couldn’t blame her. Even to his own ears, that last statement had sounded as enthusiastic as having his teeth ripped out with pliers. He shrugged. Paperwork was a necessary evil, and it wasn’t going to do itself.

“I owe you an apology, again,” he said with a grimace.

She looked up in surprise, her wide eyes quickly narrowing in question. He watched the speculation scroll across her face like a movie, before she noted his scrutiny and blanked her expression. Her eyes momentarily dropped back to the eggs.

“I can’t think what you would owe me an apology for.”

“I should’ve been there when you finished shopping yesterday. If I’d have cooled my heels outside like I should’ve, you wouldn’t have had to deal with Dean.”

Her hands stilled under the stream of water. He watched her fingers tremble around the egg as she carefully set it aside. She gave a little shake of her head, and he frowned as she seemed to square her shoulders.

“We—we were in the shop for an extraordinarily long time, and you had things to do. That is understandable. Though I was thinking, it might be beneficial in the future if you would consider allowing me limited response such as, ‘
No, thank you. I’m married.’
Or as a last resort something along the lines of, ‘
Leave me alone before he hurts you.’
”

Trey snorted. Gen giggled. He stroked the back of his finger up her nape.

“You didn’t say anything?”

“I believe my husband’s exact instructions were to ‘
keep my pretty mouth shut
.’”

“At least he got the pretty part right,” he said, trying for a bit of levity. She rolled her eyes. He sighed. “Maybe my jealousy tied your hands.”

“As much as I wish you could just trust me, I’m not asking for you to remove the restriction if it makes you feel better. I just want the ability to warn the stupid ones off,” she said, the last bit little more than a mutter of disgust.

“I can agree to that.”

She turned with a smile. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his bottom lip. “Thank you.” 

He nodded, a little embarrassed at her thanks. A low growl at the back door startled him, and he stepped between Gen and the door as it swung open again.

“Shut the hell up, Brute,” Cole grumbled as he stepped over the dog.

Trey relaxed, but frowned and turned to look at the clock.

“Yeah, you over slept. Rough night?”

“Didn’t sleep well,” Trey mumbled, pouring his brother a cup of coffee. “Are the chores done?”

“Yep. I don’t know what you were thinking for today, but something in the barn would be preferable. The wind is coming down out of the mountains, and it’s a cold one.”

 “I have a stack of invoices and such I need to go through and figure the books. I’ve been putting it off. Today seems like a good day for it. There’s nothing pressing. Do what you want.”

“You really aren’t feeling up to snuff,” Cole said, his brow furrowing in concern.

Trey waved him off. “You’re always whining that I work you too hard. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice. Is it safe to have breakfast before I run?”

Trey caught his grinning brother in a headlock and gave his head a scrub with his knuckles before releasing him.

“I remember lighting outa the house with a pack and being gone until dark when Daddy gave us the day off.”

Cole laughed. “Those were some of the best days ever. I missed that when you left for Texas.”

“Couldn’t you get the runt to go with you?”

“Eh, he always had his nose in a book.”

“That’s when I’d have told him to stow it or lose it,” Trey said with a chuckle.

“Yeah, well, neither of us ever argued with you. I’m afraid I’ve never had the same intimidation factor you do.”

Trey rolled his shoulders in a shrug but smiled. Those had been good days. They hadn’t had a care in the world, fishing, hunting, and riding the rope swing out over the river. He glanced at Gen standing over the griddle. She was listening with the softest smile turning her lips. He smiled back and nodded to himself. If God ever granted them children, he’d remember the importance of those days. His growling stomach interrupted his reminiscing, and he reached over to pat his woman’s bottom.

“What can I do to help, darlin'?”

Cole looked up from the flickering dance of the flames. Furnace or not, there was something to be said about a wood fire. The massive stone fireplace cast inviting warmth through the room, dispelling the chill of winter. Right now, the living room felt like its own private corner of the world. He was glad his brother had taken the day off. They’d all been working hard, too hard; to keep up with Trey’s crazy work ethic and his desperate need to drive himself to exhaustion. Whatever feelings the big man was trying to escape were going to be the death of the rest of them.

He looked at Gen from the corner of his eye. Since her arrival in Virginia, Trey’s new bride had been allowed little in the way of relaxation or entertainment. She worked tirelessly and without complaint. In that, she seemed a perfect match for Trey. Even now, a fancy gown of crimson and black silk lay stretched across her lap, spilling toward the floor in a wave of shimmer and lace.  He was impressed with how sure she seemed with shears and needle as she modified the lovely piece for Adrienne.

Sitting with the girls reminded him of the quiet time spent with his mama in a lot of ways. He missed her so much. Maybe when the snow came, they would have more days like this. He snorted, drawing a curious glance from Gen as she looked up from her stitching. He felt his cheeks warm, his face coloring slightly, when she lifted an arched copper brow. Sighing, his attention shifted to the songbird, only to find her lost in her own daydreams before the fire with a book forgotten in her lap.

“Is something funny, little brother?” Gen asked in a teasing tone.

“I was just thinking how nice this was, and was hoping for more days like it this winter. Then I remembered what a slave driver my brother is,” he admitted with a little chuckle.

“He’s a hard working man,” she said, eyes flitting to the double doors that housed Trey’s office.

“Afraid he’ll hear you picking on him?” Cole asked in a stage whisper.

Gen giggled and threw a spool of thread at him. Laying the gown aside, she stood and stretched. “I’m going to refill Trey’s coffee mug. Can I get either of you anything?”

“You know if you spoil him this early in the marriage, he’s going to come to expect it and you’ll be stuck with the monster.”

“I hope so,” she said with a smile he couldn’t really decipher.

He watched the swish of her skirt as she left the room before looking to Adrienne for insight. The sexy little songbird was looking after Gen with a look both resigned and irritated.

“She has no sense of self-worth,” she said when he cocked an eyebrow in question. “She will take whatever scraps of attention and affection the bas—bully tosses her, and be glad for them.”

“My brother really isn’t a bad guy once you get to know him,” Cole said with a shrug. “Of course that can be a problem. Trey is a pretty private person.”

“He’s stingy with affection, and Gen is starved for it. It’s not a good combination.”

“I think you’re judging my brother a little harshly and underestimating Genevieve. Even if he won’t admit it, there isn’t much the big man wouldn’t do for her.”

“Except tell her that he loves her—unless ‘
You aren’t ugly, but you’ll do’
is some sort of declaration of love out here in the sticks.”

“Love takes time.”

“I’ve heard that somewhere before,” Adri snapped.

“You know, just because some city slicker decided to take what you were offering and pass on buying the cow, doesn’t mean you get to take it out on my brother,” Cole snapped back. “Trey married Gen and will bust his ass to take care of her. I think they have a good start on a marriage. They like each other and the passion’s there.”

“Did you just call me a cow?”

“That would be what you got out of that,” Cole said in disgust. “You really are a self-centered little princess. Get over yourself, honey.”

“What did you just say to me?” Adrienne hissed, her eyes narrowing to emerald slits as she leaned forward.

“You’ve got a bad case of selective hearing, honey.”

“I’m not your
honey
.”

“Nope, but you’d be damn lucky if you were. We McCade men take damn good care of what’s ours.”

“You have a pretty high opinion of yourself.”

“Then I guess we have something in common.”

“Just because I think you’re nice to look at doesn’t mean I have a high opinion of you.”

“I’m flattered you think I’m handsome, honey, but I was referring to your healthy sense of self-worth,” Cole said with a little smirk. He caught Adrienne’s wrist just before her hand connected with his cheek. He smiled. “My brother was married to a city girl. I’ve seen that move. Don’t try it again.”

“Or what?” Adrienne asked, tense with anger.

Cole yanked her close by the captured wrist. His voice dropped to a growl. “Try me and find out.”

He stiffened as she leaned forward, her lips slowly gliding over his. A little voice in the back of his head warned him to back away, but the man in him rose to the challenge and hauled her closer. He deepened the kiss, drinking in the sweetness of her lips like he was starving. She tugged her wrist free and wrapped both arms around his neck. Her body pressed awkwardly against his as she half knelt on the sofa, and he instinctually shifted to protect his sensitive parts. She giggled against his lips.

“Scared, stud?”

“Not stupid is more like it,” he mumbled, pulling her lips back to his.

“I won’t hurt you. That feels too good,” she whispered.

Cole swung her around to sit in his lap. She squirmed suggestively.

“I see why you’re so cautious.”

He felt the heat flood his face and she laughed.

“Don’t be shy, handsome. It feels like you have plenty to be proud of,” she said, plowing her fingers into his blond hair. She pushed him against the back of the couch, snatching the control back from him.

They both jumped as a loud crash echoed through the living room. Gen stood frozen, eyes wide, the silver coffee service scattered at her feet. Her hand shook violently as she pulled it away from her mouth and dropped to a squat to fumble with the mess. Trey charged from the office, concern clear on his face. He barely spared them a glance, but even in that brief second Cole saw the disgust.

“Are you okay, darlin'?”

“Yes. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened,” Gen whispered. “I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up and make you some more coffee.”

Cole set Adrienne from his lap as Genevieve fled to the kitchen to get something to clean it up.

“What the hell is wrong with you two?” Trey growled. “You have your own house or use the hay loft, but not my couch.”

Cole opened his mouth, but didn’t know what to say. Glancing at Adrienne didn’t help. Suppressed laughter danced in her beautiful eyes, and she was struggling to keep her generous lips from curving in a smug grin.  He winced as his sister-in-law returned, still apologizing to her glowering husband. Trey snatched a towel from her and dropped to a crouch to wipe the hot coffee from the polished hardwood.

“I’ll, um, get some more coffee going,” Adrienne said smoothly and disappeared.

“I’m sorry, little sister,” Cole choked out.

Gen waved him off, graciously accepting fault for the entire incident as she continued to beg Trey’s pardon and mopped at the spill.

“It’s fine!” Trey said sharply. “The important thing is you weren’t scalded. Seeing my moronic brother and your friend making out on the couch like two teenagers in a hayloft would be enough to startle anyone.”

Cole’s face heated at the accusatory glare Trey leveled on him. He glanced uncertainly toward the kitchen. What the hell had that been? One moment that’d been ripping each other apart, and the next he’d been ready to tear her clothes off. How much of that had been real and how much an act by the pretty city girl? Did he dare trust her with his tender anatomy, let alone risk his heart? As much as he hated to admit the possibility Trey was right, stranger things had happened. He needed to get some air.