She’d saved us… whoever the hell she was. Her aim was true, even from a distance. And fuck if that hadn’t been hot. There was no doubt in my mind if she’d wanted those two men dead, they’d be buzzard feed right now. Instead, she’d ensured they were injured enough to be unable to flee. Hell, they couldn’t even stand up. A gunshot wound, jail and a noose were a miserable fate. Did she know the men? Did she hate them so much she wanted them to suffer? Or had she just been sitting up on the bluff, picking wildflowers and happened to witness our trouble and got lucky firing a gun?
The last was highly doubtful. Her shooting hadn’t been luck, it had been skill.
We should have dealt with the Grove men and their injuries, but we’d gotten the money they’d stolen. They could suffer for a while, like they’d made others. This woman was a puzzle I wished to solve. Fuck, more than that. One look up at her on the bluff and I’d known then and there she’d be ours. Hank and I would claim her together. He might not have been in Mohamir with me to learn about their ways of two men claiming a woman together, but he lived at Bridgewater and saw it firsthand with the other couples. Kane and Ian with their Emma. Mason and Brody with Laurel.
Yes, Hank wanted her, too. A good thing, for it was clear she needed two men to tame her.
As for those two members of the Grove gang, we’d have them dragged back to town… eventually. From the wanted posters, it appeared it was Marcus and Travis Grove shot and bleeding. That left the third member still at large. We’d get him, but not today.
Now, she was here. Right fucking here and I wasn’t letting her slip through my fingers. Her hair, a dark chestnut color, was in a long, single plait down her back. Something for a man to grip and hold onto as he took her from behind. A halo of soft curls which had come loose either clung to her damp skin or caught the bright sunlight, showing off glints of red and gold. She looked a little mussed, as if she’d been fucked a few times. I’d been able to tell her gender as she stood high above us on the bluff, even in the awful clothing. My cock just knew.
Up close, the line of her neck was delicate, even the slope of her brow. Her lips, when not twisted in a frown or grimace, were full and tinged a lovely shade of pink. That had me wondering if other parts of her were just as pink.
My gaze dropped to her shirt, wet and translucent. I could see hints of a pale belly through the clear water, but she wore something beneath the shirt that covered her breasts, and it wasn’t a corset. Not even the slightest hint of curves could be seen. It was the fact that her nipples, which had to be rock hard from the cool water, were not visible that had me thinking her body was hidden beneath more than just a men’s shirt and pants.
And I wanted to find out. I wanted to discover every secret inch of her. While women were taught to keep their bodies and virtue hidden until they married, this one was taking it to the extreme. I doubted it was for pious reasons either.
Then why?
Leaning forward, I held out my hand. “Come on, love. Out of there.”
She looked up at me, then my hand, considering. A smart move because while I did wish to assist her from the water, I also wanted her before me so I could finish getting those pants off of her, and everything else she wore. I wanted her naked.
As Hank had said, we weren’t gentlemen. After what had almost happened, it was a reminder life was short, and that we should take what we wanted, to find pleasure and happiness where we could. I knew we’d find both with her, not just in this moment, but for the rest of our lives.
She reached up—knew she truly wasn’t afraid of us—and I took her wet hand in mine, tugged, then helped her onto the soft bank in front of me, water sluicing off of her. Her free hand was at the top of her pants, trying to work them up over her bottom. Drenched, she was having little success. Unfortunately, we couldn’t see much more than a hint of pale ass since her shirt tail—damn the man she stole it from—was long.
I reached forward to help, but she swatted my assistance away.
“Want to go back in the water?” Hank asked and while she stopped fighting me, she glared at him.
“No matter how much I want these clothes off of you,” I said, working the pants up over her wide hips. “I’m putting them back on.”
She looked up at me through her lashes, clearly wary. Surprised, even. “Why?”
“Why?” I echoed. “Why am I putting them back on, or why do I want the clothes off you?”
She pursed her lips, considered. “Both, I guess.”
“Because when we get you naked, we want you eager and willing, not ornery.”
“I’m…” She was about to say more, then shut her mouth. She looked up at me with a hint of confusion. She didn’t want us, but yet, she did.
“Willing?” I asked, eyeing her. I wouldn’t fuck her, but I would push her to see how skittish she really was. Since my hand was resting on her hip, I had easy opportunity to slide it down inside the front of her pants to see just how willing she was.
She gasped and wrapped her hands about my wrist, automatically attempted to step back because I’d shocked her. A man didn’t stick his hand down a woman’s pants—not that any other woman wore them.
But the second I found her center, found her folds hot, slick and silky soft, she gasped, then stilled. She still held my forearm, but was no longer trying to push me away.
“You’re eager,” I said, glancing down at the surprised look on her face. When I found her clit, all hard and swollen for me, her cheeks flushed and her gaze softened. Blurry. A breathy moan slipped from her lips.
I slipped a finger into her. So fucking tight. She went up on her to
es at the entry, but I didn’t make it further than the first knuckle, she was that snug.
“A little finger fuck and you’d be willing.” I pulled out, circled her entrance that was now dripping, then back in. Eyeing her, I watched every flick of emotion, of surprise, pleasure, awakening. Fuck, she was perfect.
“What’s your name?” I asked, gently circling her clit with my thumb as I continued to slide only part of my finger in and out of her pussy.