personally those lips were much softer than they appeared.
Stop thinking about his dang lips .
“The trees, Chloe. You said you had marked them with your knife.”
“On the bark.”
His eyes narrowed. “I realize it’s on the bark. What I’m asking is did you mark them high, in the middle, on the roots?”
Chloe wished she were anywhere but that very spot. Vibrations echoed between her legs, his seed was on her thighs, and he was treating her like she was an idiot. Instead of letting her temper and her pride overtake her again, she turned away from him. If she wasn’t looking at him, perhaps she could regain some semblance of self-control.
“I made an X at eye level.” She wasn’t surprised to hear her voice had grown huskier. Emotions were not something she welcomed or relished, and they were surrounding her at the moment.
“Low on the tree.”
She opened her mouth to repeat eye level but realized the marks were low on the tree, comparatively speaking, that was. Her short stature was always a source of annoyance, especially around men who were as big as trees.
“Yep, I reckon you’re right.” The words were pulled from her throat.
“Start looking, then. It’s almost too dark to see, and I’m pretty sure we’re near where we started with the peddler.” He gave orders, again, and held the reins so nonchalantly she wanted to smack him. Wasn’t he as affected as she was by what they had just done? If not, then why?
She had no one to ask and no answers to the million questions in her mind. She focused on what she could do—find the trees she’d scored. As the minutes passed, she grew worried they wouldn’t find the packs in the dark, much less Granny and the girls. She must have been fidgeting on the seat.
“Is something biting you?”
She glanced at him. “Why?”
“You’re dancing over there like an army of ants is biting at you.” His scowl made his eyebrows touch like two caterpillars kissing.
She ignored him. After all, she could fidget if she wanted to. He was not her real husband, and he had no say in what she did. Maybe annoying him would become a game until, well, until they lost control again. That couldn’t, shouldn’t , happen another time. It didn’t stop her traitorous body from warming to the idea. Was she turning into a wanton? Granny didn’t warn her about that. In fact, Granny didn’t warn her about a lot of things.
Like how her skin tingled at his touch, or how she throbbed before, during and after joining with him, or how his lips had blazed a trail of fire across her. Now she was beginning to fidget, and it wasn’t because of ants.
“More ants?”
She wanted to smack him. “If you have to know, I’m just worried is all.”
Liar .
“Me too.” He tried again in vain to get the horses to move a bit faster. They did not respond to his call or the traces lightly smacking their rumps. “I can’t make these nags into stallions no matter how hard I try. We’ll just have to keep moving and hope we find something.”
That something turned out to be the trees she had scored. The night air was cooling things off, but anxiety and stress made sweat trickle down her back as she squinted at the forest. At first she thought she was seeing things because she wanted so badly to find the marks. Then she grabbed his arm, surprised again by how it felt to touch such a muscular man. She shook off the feeling.
“Stop the wagon. I think I see something.”
Before he could even react, she jumped out and ran toward the trees. She nearly wept when she saw the X she had swiped with her knife hours earlier. Her finger traced the letter as she worked at swallowing the lump in her throat. They were back on track, back to where their detour started, and now they could pick up the trail of the Ruskin wagon.
The sound of clanking drew her attention, and she saw Gideon had retrieved their packs already. He was staring into the back of the peddler’s wagon and shaking his head.
Stop thinking about his dang lips .
“The trees, Chloe. You said you had marked them with your knife.”
“On the bark.”
His eyes narrowed. “I realize it’s on the bark. What I’m asking is did you mark them high, in the middle, on the roots?”
Chloe wished she were anywhere but that very spot. Vibrations echoed between her legs, his seed was on her thighs, and he was treating her like she was an idiot. Instead of letting her temper and her pride overtake her again, she turned away from him. If she wasn’t looking at him, perhaps she could regain some semblance of self-control.
“I made an X at eye level.” She wasn’t surprised to hear her voice had grown huskier. Emotions were not something she welcomed or relished, and they were surrounding her at the moment.
“Low on the tree.”
She opened her mouth to repeat eye level but realized the marks were low on the tree, comparatively speaking, that was. Her short stature was always a source of annoyance, especially around men who were as big as trees.
“Yep, I reckon you’re right.” The words were pulled from her throat.
“Start looking, then. It’s almost too dark to see, and I’m pretty sure we’re near where we started with the peddler.” He gave orders, again, and held the reins so nonchalantly she wanted to smack him. Wasn’t he as affected as she was by what they had just done? If not, then why?
She had no one to ask and no answers to the million questions in her mind. She focused on what she could do—find the trees she’d scored. As the minutes passed, she grew worried they wouldn’t find the packs in the dark, much less Granny and the girls. She must have been fidgeting on the seat.
“Is something biting you?”
She glanced at him. “Why?”
“You’re dancing over there like an army of ants is biting at you.” His scowl made his eyebrows touch like two caterpillars kissing.
She ignored him. After all, she could fidget if she wanted to. He was not her real husband, and he had no say in what she did. Maybe annoying him would become a game until, well, until they lost control again. That couldn’t, shouldn’t , happen another time. It didn’t stop her traitorous body from warming to the idea. Was she turning into a wanton? Granny didn’t warn her about that. In fact, Granny didn’t warn her about a lot of things.
Like how her skin tingled at his touch, or how she throbbed before, during and after joining with him, or how his lips had blazed a trail of fire across her. Now she was beginning to fidget, and it wasn’t because of ants.
“More ants?”
She wanted to smack him. “If you have to know, I’m just worried is all.”
Liar .
“Me too.” He tried again in vain to get the horses to move a bit faster. They did not respond to his call or the traces lightly smacking their rumps. “I can’t make these nags into stallions no matter how hard I try. We’ll just have to keep moving and hope we find something.”
That something turned out to be the trees she had scored. The night air was cooling things off, but anxiety and stress made sweat trickle down her back as she squinted at the forest. At first she thought she was seeing things because she wanted so badly to find the marks. Then she grabbed his arm, surprised again by how it felt to touch such a muscular man. She shook off the feeling.
“Stop the wagon. I think I see something.”
Before he could even react, she jumped out and ran toward the trees. She nearly wept when she saw the X she had swiped with her knife hours earlier. Her finger traced the letter as she worked at swallowing the lump in her throat. They were back on track, back to where their detour started, and now they could pick up the trail of the Ruskin wagon.
The sound of clanking drew her attention, and she saw Gideon had retrieved their packs already. He was staring into the back of the peddler’s wagon and shaking his head.
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