His eyes narrowed at her question, and his jaw flexed while he thought about his answer. Sadie almost laughed out loud. The poor guy looked like one of those men who
’d just been asked by his wife if her pants made her ass look fat. He understood that any answer he gave would be the wrong one.
Sadie stopped pointing her spoon and used it instead to stir the soup, hurrying the cooling process along. Their overcooked dinner was starting to look like mush.
“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he finally said, his voice guarded. “I just think you’re too trusting.”
Sadie slumped her shoulders. Wrong answer. “Too trusting,” she repeated. “As in the way I’m trusting you?”
She watched Morgan take a deep breath and let it out with a harsh sigh. He rubbed his hands over his face before he looked at her again. He slowly shook his head.
“What is it you’re wanting from me, Mercedes?”
“I want you to respect my judgment when it comes to Dwayne and Harry. Until either of them does something that proves different, I want you to treat them kindly. And,” she said, pointing her spoon again when he started to speak, “I want you to trust me.”
He snapped his mouth shut and started thinking again. Sadie took a careful sip of the soup and nearly gagged. She turned the pot upside-down and dumped their ruined dinner onto the ground, then rummaged around in her dry pack, pulled out two granola bars, and tossed one to Morgan.
He caught it, examined the bar with a critical glare, then turned that glare on her. Sadie lifted her shoulders.
“Hey. You probably wouldn’t get fifty dollars for me. You beginning to rethink this marriage thing?”
“I’m beginning to think it’s time to go to bed,” he said, standing up and tossing the granola bar on top of her dry pack. He walked toward the sleeping bag she’d laid out by the ledge, pulling his sword off his back as he went. Sadie quickly scrambled to her feet.
“There’s one more thing I want, Morgan.”
“And what would that be?” he asked, turning his head to look at her, lifting one arrogant brow.
Well, damn. She didn’t know how it had happened, but she was pretending to be this man’s wife for the next seven days, and she assumed that included sleeping with him.
Not that she minded. Truth told, she kind of liked the idea. But they needed to get a few things straight first.
“A-about our sleeping together,” she started, nervously wiping her hands on her thighs.
“I want to… but… ”
He turned fully to face her, and Sadie nearly lost her nerve. But she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. By God, this gorgeous, hulking, perfect example of man was not going to intimidate her.
“I want to set some ground rules,” she finally told him. “I keep my shirt on, and my back is off limits.”
Instead of an argument, Morgan simply shrugged his shoulders and nodded in agreement before turning back to their bed. He set his sword down beside it and began taking off his clothes. Sadie tossed her own granola bar onto her dry pack and walked into the darkness toward the river.
She took her time washing up before she rolled her bra, body sock, panties, and glove into her jeans. Then, wearing only her flannel shirt, she headed back to camp—and her waiting husband.
* * *
Morgan gritted his teeth as his wifecrawled under the covers beside him and stifled a groan as her long naked legs slid against his. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Blood rushed to his groin. And with only the barest bit of control, he kept his hands to himself.
“What is your necklace made of?” she asked, her hand going to the burl at his neck. “Is it covered with some sort of glow-in-the-dark paint? It seems to always be shining.”
He wanted to jump her beautiful bones, and the woman wanted to talk. Morgan took a calming breath. Maybe talking was not such a bad thing. She obviously needed some time to get used to sharing a bed with him, and he could use the distraction to get his urges under control.
“It’s made of cherrywood,” he told her, lifting it from her hand and holding it up between them. “And I don’t know why it swirls like that. It must be a play of the light,”
he said, ignoring the fact that the light had left with the sun.
“Why do you wear it?”
“It’s a gift from an old friend.”
“It looks just like the cane Daar was carrying,” Sadie mused, frowning at the burl. “It was cherrywood and had knots in it just like this one.”
“It is from Daar,” Morgan admitted. “That crazy old man said it was a good luck charm.
I think he’s touched in the head.”
“Yet you wear his gift.”
“He’s old. I have no wish to hurt his feelings.”
She patted his chest, apparently pleased by his answer, then left her hand there, her fingers lightly caressing his left breast. Morgan closed his eyes and prayed for patience.
Then snapped them open the moment her lips touched his.
The cagey little vixen had managed to capture his hands and was holding on to them with the desperation of a woman determined to have her way. She pushed his arms over his head, kissing him senseless as she wiggled to maneuver her body on top of his.
As she had promised, she was wearing only her shirt and was completely naked from the waist down. Every inch of her exposed skin touching his made the muscles in his body tighten in response. She weighed nothing, but still he was having a hard time catching his breath.
His manhood jutted into her belly, and Morgan was unable to keep from lifting against her. She squeezed her knees into his thighs and rubbed against him in slow, sensuous motions.
He groaned into her mouth and pulled his hands free in order to grasp her hips, hoping to slow her down.
She tore her mouth away from his, then placed her lips along his throat, and lower, where she lightly kissed back and forth over his chest.
He groaned again as Sadie straddled his lap. She was being so passionate, so honest about her desire for him, and he didn’t want her pulling away with worry that he wouldn’t keep to their bargain.
Dammit. He just wanted to make love to her.
“Slow down, Mercedes,” he said between clenched teeth.
“But I want you. Now,” she said, squirming against him. “I want to feel you inside me again,” she added in a husky whisper, feathering her fingers over his shoulders.
He held back a groan when her hands moved down the insides of his arms, along his ribs, and stopped to stroke his hips.
Had he really expected his disobedient wife to listen? And why was he second-guessing his luck? He liked her aggression, her honest and unskilled passion. He especially liked that she seemed to have forgotten her shyness with him.
She moved restlessly above him and kissed him with open-mouthed abandon. Morgan simply gave up then, taking her with him as he rolled them over until he was on top. He nudged her thighs open and settled between them and captured her hair so that he could still her wandering lips just long enough to kiss them.
He rocked his hips in sensual circles, using his arousal to build her desire. She groaned into his mouth, dug her nails into his back, and wrapped both of her legs tightly around his waist.
He leaned up and stared down at her, barely able to see her expression in the pale moonlight. “Do you trust me, Mercedes?” he asked. “To the point that I can touch you anywhere but your back?”
“Yes,” she whispered, nodding as she strained against him.
He rolled so that he lay beside her, cradling her against him. He started with her belly button, gently stroking and teasing with his fingertips, waiting for either her resistance or her acceptance. She lifted herself into his touch, making a sound of pleasure that sent a shiver coursing through his body. He splayed his hand wide, spanning over her belly from hip to hip, and moved lower, laying pressure with his palm on her most sensitive place.