Harvest Moon (Borrowed Brides 2)

“What time is it?” David sat up and groped at the nightstand for his watch. He found it, flipped the cover open, and stared at the face until the numbers came into focus. “It’s not even seven o’clock yet!” he announced before he snuggled back into the warmth of the bed, pulling the covers over his head.

Tessa listened at the door for a moment. “Are you up?”

“Go away,” David grumbled. “Come back at a decent hour.”

Taking a deep breath, Tessa tried the doorknob. It turned. She pushed open the door. “It is a decent hour. You should have been up ages ago.” She advanced toward the bed.

David pushed the covers away from his face and sat up.

Tessa’s breath came out in a rush when she realized he was not wearing a nightshirt. She stared at his naked chest, fascinated by the ripple of muscles beneath his bronzed skin.

“It’s Sunday,” David told her, unaware of the effect his nakedness was having on Tessa. “My day off. You know, day of rest and all that.”

“What about church?” Embarrassed yet curious, she let her gaze wander to the planes of his handsome face. Noting the shadow of his beard darkening the strong lines of his jaw, Tessa quickly glanced at the floor.

“What about it?” Church services weren’t high on David’s list of priorities. Not since he’d moved to Peaceable. He preferred to sleep late on Sunday mornings and enjoy the relative quiet of the town when everyone else was at the Sunday services. He didn’t like to be reminded that his family was a short train ride away at church in Cheyenne.

“Aren’t you going?” Tessa asked. She had gone to Sunday mass all her life. The idea of anyone not going shocked her. Even the girls at the Satin Slipper attended Sunday services. They all dressed up and marched to the Methodist church and sat in the last pew, near the door. They were the last to enter and the first to leave every Sunday. Tessa, Coalie, and two other girls from the saloon walked to the tiny building on the edge of town at eight o’clock in the morning two Sundays a month when Father Joseph stopped and said mass in Peaceable before boarding the train for other churches along the way west.

“No,” David said. “I’m not going to church. I’m going back to sleep.” He slid down in the bed and pulled the quilts over his chest, but he let his gaze roam over her. From his position in the bed, he had

a unique view of the underside of her calico-covered breasts. They were magnificent. “You’re a little overdressed,” David teased. “But you’re welcome to join me under the covers.”

David’s naughty invitation sent color rushing up to Tessa’s face. “I’m going to church.”

“Fine,” David said agreeably. “Close the door on your way out.” He pulled the quilt up over his face, covering his eyes.

“Oh, no, you’re not!” Tessa marched out the door into the office.

David heard the creak of the pump minutes before Tessa returned to his room.

“Are you going to get up?” she asked as she approached the bed again.

He slowly pushed back the quilt, opened his eyes, and looked up at her. She stood next to his bed, holding a pitcher of water over him at a threatening angle.

“You wouldn’t.”

Tessa tilted the pitcher slightly. A drop of ice-cold water landed on David’s top lip. He licked it off.

She leaned forward to watch as his tongue captured the moisture.

Bending over was a mistake. David moved with the swiftness of a cat. He reached out from beneath the covers and grabbed Tessa’s arm. Water splashed against his chest as he jerked her toward him. She let go of the pitcher. David batted it away with his free hand. It bounced off the bed and landed on the floor with a crash. Shards of glazed pottery scattered across the woven rug and the wooden floor.

Tessa landed on top of David’s hard body.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to do next, contessa?” David asked, staring up at her. Her china-blue eyes were wide with surprise, and her pink, pouting lips, though slightly open, were quiet for a change. “No?” He placed his hands on her waist and pulled her closer. “Too bad. Because I have,” he murmured an instant before his mouth found hers.

Tessa felt the heat of his body penetrating her green dress, but it was nothing compared to the heat of his mouth. She tasted him, feeling the rasp of his tongue against her teeth as it slipped between her lips into her mouth. She felt the urgency of his mouth and echoed it, moving her lips on his, allowing him greater access. Tessa moved her own tongue, then experienced the jolt of pure pleasure as it found and mated with David’s. She tightened her grip on his wide shoulders, drawing little circles against his feverish skin, then trailed her fingers up the column of his neck and buried them in the thick black silk of his hair.

David caressed her back through the fabric of her dress. The green calico hampered him, frustrated him. He wanted to feel the softness of her flesh beneath the layers of clothing. He wanted to move his hands over her, count her ribs, and test the weight of those wonderful pear-shaped breasts, but all he could really feel was cotton. Too much cotton, masking the curves pressed against him. He moved his hand down her back, over one firm buttock, to the back of her thigh. He fumbled with her skirt until he’d raised the hem and could slide his hand underneath. He made his way through the petticoats until his palm rested against the curve of her bottom while his mouth moved over hers.

Rolling Tessa over onto her back, David reversed their positions. He stopped kissing her mouth long enough to press warm kisses against her jawline, her neck, and beneath one ear.

Tessa gasped when his probing tongue explored the contours of her ear. She was hot, breathless, lightheaded. She whimpered, seeking his mouth.

David took that as a sign of encouragement. Becoming bolder, he found the lace-edged leg of her drawers, then slipped his hand up under it.

Tessa pulled away. “What are you doing?” she murmured against his lips.