Bride Gone Bad Read online

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “But why didn’t you say so earlier?” Tempest rubbed the place over her heart that still hurt. “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me. She didn’t act like a ghost. She touched the snake, or I thought she did.”

  “Let me help you through this experience.”

  “I understand ghosts, or at least normal ones.” She crossed her arms over her stomach, trying to get warm. She pulled his shirt tighter around her body, as if it could keep her safe. But no. She couldn’t depend on any man, especially not one like him.

  “You can’t escape your fate any more than I can escape mine.”

  “My life was pretty simple till I met you.” She stared into the fire, not wanting to look at him for fear her resolve would weaken. “I’m not at all sure our partnership is going to work out.”

  He got up, stalked around the campfire, and held out his hand. “I’m your Sun. Let me prove it to you.”

  Chapter 19

  Lucky couldn’t lose Tempest now, not after they’d come so far together. He just needed to bring her over to his side.

  She’d had a rough awakening by the Moon Rattler. He regretted it, but it wasn’t surprising. Tempest hadn’t been trained or prepared for the experience. He hadn’t been warned to expect it, either. Like an unborn chick, she’d had her shell broken open too soon. Now she was unstable and vulnerable to any spirit, malicious or benign.

  Tempest needed to be grounded, sealing in the Moon Rattler’s gift. He had to complete the initiation. He knew several ways to do it, but only one quick way. He’d wanted to woo her and win her as his ladylove, but not till after they’d completed the mission. He hadn’t wanted to chance their success. Now he didn’t have a choice.

  “Lucky?” She touched him with her fingertips.

  He clasped her hand, shuddering with desire so strong that it took his breath away. He had to retain control of his body even as she succumbed to him. He hoped he had the strength to do it.

  “I think she burned me or something. I don’t know how a ghost could do that, but it hurts. Please take a look and tell me what you think.” She pulled open the shirt that she’d been clutching together.

  At the sight of her lacy chemise accentuating more than covering her breasts with their rosy tips, he felt his control threaten to break. He knelt beside her, slipped the shirt down her arms, tugged it off, and set it aside.

  He grasped her upper arms, and turned her so that she was illuminated by the firelight. She looked so delectable that it took him a moment to focus on the raised red area on the upper slope of her left breast. He wasn’t surprised to see the mark. When it healed, she’d have her own Soleil Wheel, but hers would be an outline where his was solid. Negative to positive. Female to male. When combined, that power was energized, completed, and grounded.

  He sat back, stroking down her arms to her hands. He hesitated, holding her fingers and gazing into her violet eyes. He wondered if she had Indian in her bloodline. She’d been born on Turtle Island, so she had a physical connection to the land. Many Europeans and their descendants carried second sight, even if most disavowed it. Rattlers mated or married outside their clan, so there was no taboo against what he was about to do. She was a rare Spirit Rattler, so her bloodline would be welcomed into his Rattler clan.

  Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a soft kiss to each fingertip. He only hoped she would understand when she learned the total truth. For now, he was her Sun and she was his Moon.

  He pressed a kiss to the crimson place over her heart and felt power swirl against his lips. She hummed with ability. Maybe that was why he’d been placed with her. If he didn’t take her for his Rattler clan, she’d be vulnerable to those more ruthless who would not hesitate to own and use her.

  “I asked you to look, not touch.”

  He smiled as he raised his head. “Didn’t my kiss make it feel better?”

  “No. It aches even more.”

  “Did you rub against poison ivy out there?”

  She glanced down. “I don’t know. Is that what it looks like to you? I guess that makes more sense than a ghost mark.”

  “I’m sorry if I scared you with the rattlesnake.”

  “If they’re sacred rather than a threat, it makes a difference. But I’ve never seen anyone dressed like that ghost. She must have been around a long time.”

  “Did she say anything?”

  “No. She was insistent about pointing to the northeast. Do you suppose she’s connected to where you want to go?”

  “I hope so.”

  “I don’t know why I got so sick.”

  “You were shocked and scared by the snake.”

  “That strange ghost didn’t help matters.”

  “I didn’t, either.”

  “If I’m seeing ancient ghosts, I may be able to help you.”

  “I’m sure of it.” He raised her hands to his lips again and pressed warm kisses to her palms.

  “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Comforting you.” He kissed the inside of her wrist, ran his tongue over the soft flesh, and felt her pulse quicken.

  She inhaled sharply, but didn’t pull away.

  “Let me make it up to you.” He kissed her other wrist.

  “How?”

  “Did you ever get your wedding night?”

  “No.” She spoke in a husky whisper.

  “I’ve admired you from the first.” He planted hot kisses up her arm to the soft flesh on the inside of her elbow. He lingered there, tracing the indentation with his tongue, and then nipped the fragile skin.

  She inhaled sharply. “I’ve always thought you so beautiful.”

  “I’m more than that.” He trailed warm kisses up the inside of her other arm, sucking gently on the sensitive flesh.

  “Are you saying that you’ll give me my wedding night?”

  “I’ll give you whatever you want. I owe you for the fright.” He felt her shiver under his touch.

  “What if I don’t know what I want?”

  “We can discover that together.”

  “I think ladies are warned about men like you.”

  “Warned to take advantage of us?”

  “No.”

  He trailed kisses up to her shoulder. “Warned to have your way with us?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “But we’re the vulnerable ones.” He kissed up to the sensitive area where her shoulder met her neck. And bit, ever so lightly, then laved with his tongue.

  She caught her breath. “How so?”

  “You set us on fire.” He bit harder and felt her shiver, so he moved upward to her earlobe and bit and sucked and nibbled until he elicited a moan. “You make us burn for you.” He placed kisses across her jaw to her chin, to her lips. “Our cocks hurt.” He stopped and raised his head to look at her.

  “Oh.” She gazed at him with eyes the color of rich, ripe, juicy plums.

  “Shouldn’t something be done about it?”

  She widened her eyes as if in contemplation of hot, hard shafts. “What?”

  He cocked his head, as if considering the dilemma. He toyed with one strap of her chemise, running his fingertips over it, under it, and then slipping it down so that it dangled over her arm. “That’s better.”

  “Better?”

  “Such beautiful skin shouldn’t be marred with coarse fabric.”

  “That’s fine lawn.”

  “Silk would be coarse compared to your skin.”

  “Oh.”

  He toyed with her other strap, taking his time even though his cock was straining to break free. He could see her nipples tightening into hard buds under the sheer fabric of her chemise. He tugged the strap up and down, revealing a little more of the slope of her breasts each time. And when he thought neither of them could stand the suspense any longer, he jerked down the strap and her chemise fell to her waist.

  She inhaled sharply, causing her naked breasts to rise and fall.
/>   He took his time looking at her, feasting on her beauty, enjoying what had been denied him. He glanced up at her face. She was sucking on her lower lip, white teeth worrying the plump flesh. And he wanted her luscious mouth on his cock that moment, nipping him, licking him, sucking him.

  “You are the perfect example of why men are in such pain,” he growled, hurting with the denial of his own needs.

  She tossed her head. “I’m doing nothing but sitting here.”

  “Do you think you should be punished for hurting us?”

  She shook her head, watching him warily.

  He allowed himself the luxury of clasping her breasts. They filled his hands like ripe melons, soft yet firm. As he squeezed, he rubbed his thumbs back and forth across her nipples until they swelled under his touch. He leaned forward and flicked each nipple with the tip of his tongue, then bit and licked and sucked until she shivered and moaned. He pressed a soft kiss to the red area over her heart, but resisted inflaming it more.

  “Is this . . . punishment?” she panted.

  He raised his head as he continued to massage her breasts. “Are you in pain?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where?”

  “Everywhere!”

  “Where most of all?”

  She squirmed, rubbing her thighs together.

  “Show me.”

  She shook her head, glancing downward.

  He slid his hands from her rib cage to her waist, where he spanned the small circumference. He tucked his thumbs under the waistband of her drawers and found her navel. He stroked the indentation with one thumb and then the other while she squirmed and wiggled, growing more heated by the moment. He massaged over her hips and down until he clasped her rounded butt with both hands. He squeezed, lifted her up, and set her on his lap so that she straddled him.

  “This is indecent.” She sounded prim, but excited, too.

  “Do you want me to stop?” He nuzzled her neck. She smelled like violets and tasted like honey.

  “Maybe this shouldn’t go too far.”

  “How far is far?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He kissed her lips, nibbling and sucking, licking and biting until she opened her mouth and he plunged deep inside with his tongue.

  She moaned and threw her arms around his bare shoulders, digging in her nails as she pushed her breasts against his chest.

  He massaged the round globes of her butt, slowly rucking up the fabric so that he could get to the heart of her. At the same time, he stroked his shaft back and forth across her small, hot nub, knowing the friction and roughness of the material would set her on fire. Soon she wiggled against him, rubbing on the ridge of his blue jeans–covered prick with growing urgency. He pillaged her mouth, tasting her sweetness, drinking her essence.

  When she shivered against him, he used one hand to press her back so that he crushed her breasts against his chest. With the other, he slipped under her lacy drawers to the hot, wet core of her. She stiffened for a moment, but he didn’t give her time to think. He stroked her plump lower lips with his long fingers until she writhed against him, and then he thumbed her swollen bud until she stiffened and shuddered and moaned into his mouth.

  He continued to stroke her, inside and out, until she collapsed in his arms, spent and weak and pliant.

  Not quite his yet, but almost there.

  Chapter 20

  Tempest sighed in Lucky’s arms, snuggling against his chest.

  “Was that wonderful feeling . . . normal?”

  He chuckled. “You like my touch?”

  She nodded, inhaling his scent of sage, leather, and citrus. “But what about you?”

  “This isn’t about me.”

  She raised her head to look into eyes that reflected firelight as if he burned inside. “I’m not completely naive.”

  “Not anymore.”

  She drew circles on his chest with one fingertip, relishing being able to intimately touch him. “Your skin is so smooth.” She leaned forward and stroked the tip of her tongue across one nipple and then the other. When she felt him shudder in response, she grew bolder. She licked his nipple and felt it tighten into a taut peak, so she nipped the other and felt him move restlessly against her.

  “Does that hurt?”

  “Not there.”

  “Do you believe what’s good for the goose is good for the gander?”

  “Are you volunteering?”

  “I’d like to touch you, too.”

  She felt him spear fingers into her hair, pulling loose her chignon and letting her long hair tumble down around them. When he crushed her lips in a hard kiss, she reached up and twined her hands in his thick hair, desperately wanting more of him. She was starved for what he had to offer. Perhaps it was the aftermath of seeing the ghost or being susceptible to his looks and charm. She didn’t care. She’d waited so long for a man to love her, or at least make love to her, that she couldn’t resist anything he had to offer.

  When he bit her lower lip and sucked on it, she squirmed in his lap, feeling the ridge of his hard shaft excite her all over again. She reached down and pushed her hand between them so that she could feel, hold, and rub his long length through the fabric of his blue jeans.

  Lucky raised his head. “You’re playing with fire.”

  “Can’t I do for you what you did for me?”

  She scooted back and fumbled with the first button. When she got it unbuttoned, she glanced up at him.

  He smiled, then leaned back and braced his hands on the blanket and stretched out his legs under her. “I’m all yours.”

  At his words, she felt free to pleasure him. She popped one button after another until his shaft sprang free. She looked in amazement at the long, thick, dark shape. She touched the glistening end with one fingertip.

  He tensed and groaned, pushing up toward her.

  She jerked back her hand. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “If you don’t touch me, you hurt me.” He reached forward, took her hand, and wrapped it around his shaft. “That feels good.”

  She squeezed and stroked his smooth skin. “Like that?”

  “We can do better.” He patted her butt. “Move up on your knees.”

  When she straddled him on her knees, she looked to him for more instruction.

  “Now wet your hand between your thighs and use your moisture to stroke me.”

  “Oh. I’m not sure if—”

  “You can do it.”

  She pulled up her drawers, reached under, and stroked her hot, moist, achy center, remembering how he had touched her there.

  “That’s right.”

  She glanced up to see him watching her with fever in his eyes.

  “Use your fingers. Go deeper.”

  She felt her soft, swollen folds give way to more heat, more moisture as she held his gaze.

  He smiled, flashing his dimple. “You want me?”

  She nodded, withdrawing her hand and clasping his rigid shaft, spreading her moisture up and down the length of him.

  “Like this.” He leaned forward, clasped her hand, and taught her the rhythm, stroking up and down, faster and harder.

  When he leaned back, closing his eyes, she continued the movements, reveling in the feel of him, her power to please him, and the intimacy. He groaned, pushed hard against her, and spurted into her hand, blending their essences.

  He pressed a kiss to her lips, picked up a handkerchief, and handed it to her.

  She wiped off her hand, almost reluctant to lose that part of him, and set the handkerchief aside. “I had no idea there could be so much variety. I’d only heard about the missionary position and how women were simply meant to endure.”

  He chuckled. “I can make that position pleasurable, too.”

  “Are you going to prove it?”

  He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I want very much to prove it.”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yes.”

  She shivered w
ith anticipation, part fear, part excitement, part worry, but then remembered the danger of pregnancy. She couldn’t risk bringing a child into the world without a husband and father to help. She sighed.

  “What is it?”

  “We can’t risk making a baby.”

  “There are ways around it.”

  “Really?”

  “Have you heard of a French cap?”

  “No.”

  “It covers a man’s shaft like a glove.”

  “And you have such a device?”

  “Always. Just in case.”

  “Like your .44? Just in case.”

  “A man should always be prepared to protect his ladylove.”

  She felt a sudden longing in her heart. “Am I your ladylove?”

  “Would you like to be?”

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “You are my ladylove. And I treasure you.”

  She felt an expansive blossoming in her heart. Not love, of course. A woman would have to be a fool to fall in love with a heartbreaker like him. But she felt a great kindness and appreciation toward him. He knew the worst about her, but he still liked her. That alone was a great gift.

  When he reached for the waistband of her drawers, she allowed him to untie the bow, although she shivered at the thought of being completely naked.

  “Please stand up for me.”

  When she stood, her drawers slipped down her legs to pool at her feet.

  He simply looked at her for a long time, not saying anything.

  But she knew he liked what he saw because his shaft grew hard again, and poked out of his blue jeans.

  “You’re completely beautiful,” he finally said. “When we find that artist, I’d like him to paint you in the nude.”

  She gasped in shock.

  “It’d be just for me. And you. Nobody else would ever see it.”

  “What about the artist?”

  “Artists are used to seeing nude bodies. It’d mean nothing more than painting a still life like a bowl of fruit.”

  “I hardly think being compared to fruit is a compliment.”

  He chuckled, glancing down. “You can compare me to a banana.”

  She couldn’t keep from laughing at him. “Fine. He can paint all the bananas and peaches he likes.”