Hitched to the Gunslinger by Michelle McLean

Chapter Thirteen

Gray might have been huffing and puffing, but he made it to the wagon—barely—before he put Mercy down. He couldn’t lie; he was a bit proud of himself. It had been a while since he’d hauled anything of any size that far. And dropping his new bride on her rear end an hour after their nuptials would have sent the wrong message, surely. Actually lifting her into the wagon, though, wasn’t going to happen, but he did hold out a hand to help her up onto the bench before he followed her up.

“What about Jason?” she asked.

Gray grimaced, annoyed she asked about the other man, though he had no reason to be.

“He’s sleepin’ at the jailhouse tonight. Keepin’ an eye on the prisoners.”

“Oh,” she said, her cheeks flushing. “We’ll be alone, then.”

He pulled himself into the wagon and grabbed the reins. It had to be a sign of how flustered she was that she didn’t insist on driving the horses as she usually did. He was a bit flustered himself. He was no blushing virgin, but—he looked in horror at his new wife, suddenly realizing she very well might be.

“Have you…are you…” Damn. There really wasn’t a delicate way to ask a woman that question.

Mercy glanced at him, her brow creased. “Am I what?”

He took a deep breath. Just say it, man!

“Are you a virgin?”

Mercy’s mouth dropped open before she tilted her head higher. “No.”

Gray’s shoulders sagged in relief, and she looked at him, thoroughly confused. “Is that a problem?” she asked him.

“Hell no!” he said so loudly she laughed. He broke into a grin. “Sorry. I just…I wouldn’t have any idea what to do with a virgin.”

Mercy raised a brow. “I expect the same thing you’d do with someone who wasn’t. Just, a little more carefully.”

Gray snorted. “Point taken.”

She regarded him for a moment and then shook her head. “You truly don’t mind?”

“No, I meant it. I’m relieved.”

“Well, that’s a first,” she muttered.

At his questioning glance, she sighed. “The first man I was with was my fiancé. I was sixteen. Young, naïve. In love.” She shook her head. “We didn’t wait until the wedding night. And then he broke off the engagement. Said he couldn’t marry a girl who would give herself away before being wed.”

Gray gaped at her, truly astounded. “He was an asshole.”

That surprised a sharp laugh out of her. “That he was.”

“And since then?” he asked. He didn’t want to pry, but knowing exactly how experienced she was would help him out a lot.

She looked out ahead of them, watching the land slip by as they rode. “There was another since then. Not great. But I know what to expect.”

Gray grunted. Hardly a rousing recommendation of her past lovers. But at least she wasn’t a total novice. At the basics, in any case. He might have his work cut out for him.

Though, this was definitely one time he didn’t mind at all.

They pulled into the courtyard of Mercy’s house, and Gray hopped down, hurrying around to the other side of the wagon so he could help her. He raised his arms and after a second’s hesitation on her part, she put her hands on his shoulders so he could lower her to the ground. Which he did as slowly as possible. For one, he didn’t want to drop her. But mostly, he wanted to feel her as she slid down his body to the ground. Wanted her to feel him. And from the glazed look in her eyes by the time her toes touched the ground, she had.

“Welcome home, wife.”

She shivered in his arms, though the night wasn’t cold. And judging by the heated look in her eyes it had nothing to do with fear. A flash of pure male pride that he could cause that reaction in her with little more than a few words had him swinging her into his arms again so he could carry her into the house.

“What are you doing?” she asked, clinging to his shoulders.

“Carrying the bride over the threshold is a tradition, I believe.”

“Yes, but you really don’t have to…”

“Mercy.”

“What?”

“Just shut up and let me carry you into the house.”

She narrowed her eyes, but the corners of her lips were pulling into a smile. And she stopped trying to argue. Probably the fastest she’d ever conceded an argument. He had no notions such a miracle would continue, but he’d enjoy it while it lasted.

It turned out it was more difficult to enter a house with your arms full than he’d thought. She finally reached down and opened the door, giving it a good shove as she did so. He turned sideways so they’d fit through the door and then kicked it closed behind them. And then…he stood there. Holding his wife in his arms in the home that had been hers but was now, permanently, theirs.

His heart thudded in his chest, hard enough she could probably feel it beneath her fingertips. But he still didn’t put her down.

She glanced at him, brows raised. “I think you can put me down now.”

He grinned and held her tighter. “I don’t know. I think I kind of like you like this.”

She squirmed. “I’m too heavy for you. You’ll pull something or strain your muscles.”

He shrugged as well as he could with her in his arms. “My muscles could probably do with a little more strain.” When her eyes widened, he hastened to add, “A little more. Don’t go getting any grand ideas.”

“Oh, perish the thought,” she said, bringing another smile to his lips.

He carried her a little farther into the house and then gently lowered her to the ground. But he didn’t release her. “You looked very beautiful today. These were a nice touch.” His finger trailed over the crown of daisies still in her hair. They’d been his favorite flower ever since he was a little boy. His mother had always had them in the house when she could. It was one of the few things he remembered about her. So, to see them in Mercy’s hair at their wedding… He gritted his teeth, not wanting to show any of the emotion that clambered at him.

“It was very kind of Mrs. DuVere to loan me such a fine gown,” Mercy said, smoothing her hands over the material. “I’ve never worn anything so beautiful.”

Gray’s knuckles brushed across her cheek. “You should always be draped in silk and jewels.”

Her eyes rose to his in surprise, but he wasn’t quite brave enough to meet her gaze. “I probably won’t be able to give you everything you deserve,” he said, trying to find a way to say what he wanted without coming across too strongly. “But everything I have is yours.”

“Gray.” Her voice cracked, thick with emotion.

“Don’t get too excited,” he said. “The sum total of my possessions is two guns and a pain-in-the-ass horse.”

Mercy’s laugh filled the room, a sound that never failed to make him smile, and he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her closer. She gasped as he brought their bodies flush against each other.

“Are you sure you still want to be my wife in truth?” he asked, not knowing what answer he wanted to hear the most. If she was wise, she’d say no, because getting deeper involved with him was never a good idea for anyone. But he was honest enough to admit, to himself at least, that he wanted her to say yes. Because he needed her. Desperately.

He held his breath as she trailed her hands up his arms to circle his shoulders. She pressed herself even closer and rose on her tiptoes until her mouth was a breath away from his.

“I said yes when the reverend asked me all those questions, Gray,” she said. “I meant it. Make me your wife.”

He didn’t wait for her to ask again. He captured her lips, his mouth moving over hers with an urgency he could no longer control, as he scooped her into his arms again and walked into her bedroom. But if he’d worried that his exuberance would frighten her, he shouldn’t have.

As he lowered her feet back to the ground, she returned his kiss with a passion that both startled and amused him. When he licked at her lips, she immediately opened to him and he delved inside, tasting and exploring every bit of her. Her arms tightened around his neck, trailing up to tangle in his hair. And when a quiet whimper escaped her lips, Gray groaned, crushing her to him, staking a claim with his kiss that had her clutching at him with a passion that spurred his own.

He didn’t let up, moving his mouth to trail down the column of her throat. She dragged in a shaky breath, tilting her head to give him better access. And when his hand curved around her buttocks and squeezed, bringing her up against the hard length of him, she gasped and ground herself against him.

“Damn, woman,” he groaned into her neck. “You keep that up and I won’t last ten seconds.”

“Well, we’ll just have to work on your stamina,” she said, kissing a burning path across his jawline while her fingers tugged at the bowtie Sunshine had meticulously tied what seemed like days ago.

He snorted and pulled her closer again. “I’ll admit there are many things I need to work on. But stamina is not one of them.”

She shrugged and pushed his jacket from his shoulders. “All I’ve got to go on is what I’ve seen since you’ve been here and—”

He cut her off with a searing kiss that had her swaying in his arms. When he finally pulled away, they were both breathless, chests heaving. “Judging me on my performance during chores is unfair.”

His fingers fumbled at the interminable row of tiny buttons on her bodice. “Hmm,” she said, unbuttoning his vest and pushing it off his shoulders. “I don’t know. One could consider performing your husbandly duties as a chore.”

He snorted. “Sweetheart, any man who counts making love to his wife as a chore isn’t worth the ink on the marriage license.”

Before she could respond to that, he growled in frustration and pushed away from her.

“Wha—?” she sputtered as he marched from the room.

“Stay there, I’ll be right back,” he said and walked away.

He marched across the small house straight to the kitchen, where he selected the sharpest knife he could find, and then hurried back to the bedroom. Mercy’s eyes widened and she took a step back when he came at her with the knife raised.

“What are you doing?” She raised a hand to ward him off, though he was pleased to see she didn’t look afraid. More curious and a bit exasperated.

He pointed at her bodice with the knife tip. “I’m cutting that damn dress off you.”

He stepped forward, and she warded him off again, this time with a laugh. “You are not cutting up Mrs. DuVere’s gown. She’d never forgive me. Just…give me a minute.”

She got to work on the buttons, making much quicker work of them than he had.

“If you’re impatient, you could work on these,” she said as she settled onto the side of the bed and stuck out a foot clad in a small-heeled boot that was also fastened with a dozen or two buttons.

He hadn’t paid much attention to women’s fashion other than to admire the way a woman looked while wearing it. But he’d never actively hated women’s clothing until that moment. There were so many damn layers, he’d probably age another year before he got them all off.

He had removed one of her boots by the time she’d finished with her bodice. She stood to unfasten her corset, so, for expediency’s sake, Gray shoved his head under her skirts to continue working on the second boot.

Mercy let out a tiny shriek. “What are you doing?”

“Getting your other boot off.”

Before she could respond, he managed to undo enough buttons to remove the second boot about the same time that her corset hit the ground. It was also about that moment that he realized what an amazing opportunity being beneath her skirts afforded him.

He grinned, glad she couldn’t see it, because he had no doubt the expression was filled with a hedonistic delight that might offend her if not downright frighten her. But he was like a starving man being presented with a feast. And he was determined to enjoy every bite.

…

Mercy had just dropped her corset and reached behind her to untie her skirt when the feather-light touch of Gray’s fingers skimmed across her leg. She gasped.

“What are you doing?”

In response, she felt the garter ties holding up her stockings release. Gray wrapped his hands around her leg and dragged them downward, pushing the stocking down as they went. The sensation of his fingers on her skin was enough to set her heart pounding, and she reached for the bed frame to keep herself steady. But when his lips trailed across her inner thigh as he removed the second stocking, her knees buckled and she plopped onto the bed.

Gray didn’t let up. Instead, he pressed closer, forcing her legs wider to accommodate him. She fought between the urge to squeeze them shut or open them completely. One would trap him against the most intimate part of her. But the other would give him full, unfettered access. Either option sent her blood roaring through her in a rush of desire.

He’d managed to remove both stockings, but he didn’t emerge. Instead, his hands now inched their way upward.

“What are you doing?” she asked again.

He kissed her leg. “Exploring. Shh.”

His breath when he shushed her blew gently against her over-sensitized skin and she jumped, her already strained breath catching in her throat.

“I…” Her voice came out in a squeak and she tried again. “I’ve gotten the bodice off. You can come out from underneath there now,” she said, wanting to stop him from doing whatever he had planned while at the same time her body wanted nothing more than to urge him forward.

“I’ll be just a minute,” his muffled voice said from beneath her skirts.

“Gray.” Her voice shook as he found the edge of her bloomers and pulled them off, and she didn’t know if she was pleading with him to stop or to continue, or if she’d uttered his name because it was the only word she could remember just then.

She dragged in a breath, trying to get some much-needed oxygen into her body. “You don’t need to do that part. I think I can manage.”

It probably would have sounded more convincing if her voice hadn’t been so faint.

“But I’ve already begun,” he said, his lips continuing their torturous path along her inner thigh before she could dredge up a coherent thought. “And I really don’t mind.”

His mouth moved even higher up her thigh until he reached her aching center. Surely, he couldn’t mean to—

He pressed a kiss to her core that made her gasp and jerk backward with a startled yelp. He emerged and leaned forward, planting one hand on either side of her hips as she sat on the edge of the bed.

“Trust me,” he said, capturing her mouth in another searing kiss that had the room spinning. “Trust me,” he murmured again against her lips. He looked at her, waiting for a response, and when she finally nodded, his face lit up like it had when Martha had handed him the cherry pie.

He ducked back beneath her skirts, his mouth retracing its path along her inner thighs. He took his time to get back to her center, only this time he did not pause, just pressed a kiss to her aching core. She sucked in a tremulous breath, her hands fisting in the quilt beneath her. When his tongue darted out to taste her, she lost her wits altogether.

“Gray! Wait, wait, stop.” She squirmed against him, though she wasn’t sure if she was trying to escape or get closer.

He flipped her skirts up. “What? I’m busy.”

She tried to choke back a laugh, but with his hair standing a bit on end and his face red, either from his exertions or the airless confines of the depths of her skirts, she couldn’t know. Though she was fairly sure her own face was just as red.

“I know, but you…you can’t just…”

His eyes flashed, and he crawled on the bed as she scrambled back. “I can’t?”

She shook her head, though her body trembled with anticipation as he loomed over her.

“And why can’t I?” he asked, his face going absolutely predatory as he wedged his body between her legs again.

“Because, it’s not…decent,” she gasped out, writhing against him.

The vibration of his laughter, his hips pressing into her, had her arching off the bed. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not a decent man.”

And with that, he moved back down beneath her skirts. Who knew her husband was capable of such relentless determination? God bless him.

She wanted to argue more, but everything in her world narrowed down to focus on him. That decadent sensation of his tongue that drove her wilder with every caress. She thrashed beneath him, the part of her that was embarrassed quickly overtaken by the growing demand of her body.

She’d been caught in a lightning storm once. The bolts had struck all around and one in particular had struck far too close. Just before it had hit, she’d been filled with an energy that made every inch of her tingle with a power she wasn’t sure her body could contain. She was sure she’d be incinerated on the spot.

That moment paled in comparison to the sensations Gray created within her.

Her hips bucked beneath his mouth, trying to draw him in closer as the exquisite pressure built within her with such intensity that it bordered on pain. And when his fingers joined in, she lost all control. Her body took over completely, and she ground herself against him, chasing that crest that was just out of reach. Gray redoubled his efforts and the building wave finally crashed over her, pulsing through her until she threw her head back with a cry that was half laughter and half a sob of pure pleasure.

Gray reemerged from beneath her skirts with a look of such heat that she sucked in a breath.

“Don’t ever be embarrassed by somethin’ that brings you pleasure,” he said, fixing that steely gaze on her. “Understood?”

She nodded, still struggling to pull air into her tortured lungs.

“Good.” He pulled her to him, his mouth crashing down on hers. She could taste herself on his tongue, but it just made her movements more frantic. Her hands gripped his shirt, while his fumbled with the ties of her skirt and petticoats.

“You do yours, I’ll do mine,” she said, too desperate to get her hands on him to wait for him to deal with the rest of her layers of clothing.

He grinned and nodded, quickly removing the rest of his clothing while she rolled away to deal with her skirt and petticoats. Then he stood back, letting her look her fill while his eyes roved over her. She had thought she’d be embarrassed in this moment, but she was so busy devouring the sight of him that she didn’t give much thought to what he was seeing. Until she met his gaze. And then any misgivings she might have had were wiped away. Because the only thing in his eyes was heat and hunger and an admiration that she had never seen in any man before.

“My God, woman. You are breathtaking.”

Her heart stuttered, and she drew in a tremulous breath. And then let her eyes rake over him. She’d seen bits and pieces of him before. But never the whole picture at once. The edges of him might not have been as hard as they once were, and he definitely didn’t have the physique of a ranch hand who spent his days doing hard labor under the hot sun. But his shoulders were broad and strong, and he had a great wide chest that made her want to wrap her arms around him and cuddle in.

And the rest of him… Her eyes went wide at the evidence of exactly how pleased he was with his own view.

“You’re quite impressive yourself,” she said, her gaze taking in every inch of him.

He gave her that half smile she loved so much and reached out to pull her to him. The touch of his skin against hers sent her head spinning again, and she held on for dear life. He toppled them to the bed, and her startled giggle broke off in a gasp when his hand closed over her breast. When his mouth replaced his hand, closing over one pebbled nipple, her hand tangled in his hair, pulling him closer and keeping them captive.

He chuckled. “Always the bossy one?”

She panted out a laugh. “Complaining?”

“Never,” he murmured, turning his attention to the other breast.

His hands and mouth explored every inch of her until she was ready to beg him for mercy. He finally moved over her, and just the brush of his hot length against her thigh had her lifting her hips to bring him closer.

“You’re still sure?” he asked, the slight tremor in the arms he planted on either side of her betraying his inner storm.

She gripped his shoulders. “Please.”

“You tell me if you need me to stop,” he said. “We can take this as slow as you need.”

In response, she lifted her hips, and when he moved too slowly, she gripped his surprisingly firm buttocks and urged him forward. She knew this first bit wasn’t going to be the most pleasant, and she just wanted to get it over with.

He groaned and then buried himself in one hard thrust. She froze at the immediate discomfort, and he held still, letting her grow accustomed to the fullness that stretched her beyond anything she’d ever felt before.

“Easy, darlin’,” he whispered. His voice was strained, but he leaned down and captured her lips, kissing her until she was whimpering beneath him.

He murmured things she barely listened to while his mouth and hands worshipped every inch of her, restoking the flames that had been licking at her since the moment they’d entered the house. Hell, since the moment he’d walked into her life. Even through his grouching and grumbling, every aggravating moment, in the back of her mind she’d wondered what it would be like to be with him like this. Even her most imaginative dreams couldn’t compare to the real thing.

After a minute, she couldn’t help but move against him, wanting, needing something more. He withdrew and then slowly pushed back in, watching her reaction as he moved. It was uncomfortable, almost too uncomfortable. She hadn’t been a virgin, but she hadn’t had much experience, and what little there was had been a very long time ago. And had been nothing like what Gray had shown her. She didn’t want to stop now, though.

The more they moved together, the more that storm built inside her again. The discomfort from his unfamiliar body blended with the pleasure he drew from her with his lips and hands. God, he was destroying her one piece at a time, breaking down who she had been, who she thought she’d been. There was no escape from him. And she didn’t want one. But it still terrified her. She’d never be able to walk away now, not as a whole person.

Her breath grew ragged, and she arched into him, her lips moving feverishly over his. He moved faster, harder, and when his thumb reached between them and found that sweet spot that begged for attention, a strangled cry escaped her throat. Two more strokes, three, and once again that wave of unimaginable pleasure washed over her, setting every nerve ending alight. Her toes curled and she grabbed the sheets in her fists to keep from raking her nails down his back.

He was right behind her, his rhythm faltering. And with a final thrust he followed her into the abyss. He lay there for a moment, his forehead resting on her shoulder as they both dragged in ragged breaths, their hearts thundering together. His weight was heavy on her, but she didn’t mind. She kissed his neck, nipping a little, and he tangled his hand in her hair, tilting her face so he could capture her mouth in a slow, lingering kiss that seared her very soul.

He rolled to his side, but he took her with them, their limbs still entwined. Then he pressed another kiss to her lips, so gently she nearly forgot how to breathe.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She let out a breathless laugh. “All right is not the word I’d use.” His brow furrowed, but before he could ask, she snuggled against him and kissed his chest. “That was…remarkable.”

His body relaxed and he smiled up at her. “Well, I do aim to please.” At her raised eyebrows, he added, “In here, anyway.”

She laughed again. “This might just make up for the more aggravating aspects of your nature.”

He gave her that lopsided grin she loved and kissed her again. “I guess I’ll just have to make sure we do this on a regular basis then. In the interest of keeping up morale and building my stamina, of course.”

“Of course,” she said. “And speaking of stamina…”

She waggled her eyebrows at him, and he barked out a laugh.

“The spirit is willin’, darlin’, but you’re going to have to give my body a few minutes to recover.”

“Hmm, that’s all right. I’ll just amuse myself while you rest,” she said, trailing her lips down his chest while her hands traveled farther down.

He sucked in a shaky breath. “You’re goin’ to be the death of me, woman.” He wrapped his arms around her and rolled her back beneath him. “But what a way to go.”