A Wild Woman (Mail Order Bride of Slate Springs 2)

Spur knelt down on the other side across from Lane and I knew he could see my body. I looked between the two, not sure what to do. I felt like a cornered mouse.

“I don’t know,” Lane replied, and using my befuddled brain to his advantage, deftly took the soap from my hand. “I think we’ll have to check and see.”

“Check and—”

“Mmm, yes. We’d hate for you to take ill,” Spur added, his gaze dipping below the surface of the water. I was grateful for the darkness and just had to hope that most of me was in shadow.

“Take ill? From dirt?” I argued. “My brothers would have been dead years ago.”

“We can assist with your hair then,” Lane murmured, his eyes roving over the tresses that I knew were unbidden and wild.

I shook my head. “It’s fine.”

“Yes, it is,” Lane confirmed, lifting one long curl and playing with the wet tip. Mesmerized.

“Then you don’t need our help?” Spur asked, looking over my shoulder to Lane.

I swallowed, licked my lips. “No, thank you. I’m—”

Both men stood abruptly. Lane reached down and scooped me up into his arms.

“Good, then it’s time to make you ours.”

I screamed in surprise and wiggled.

“Careful, sweetheart. You’re slippery when you’re wet like this,” Spur cautioned. He seemed to be the practical one of the duo, but he wasn’t telling Lane to put me down.

I grabbed hold of Lane’s shoulders and tried not to do so all at the same time, for they were bare and damp and warm and well muscled. I could feel his arms about me, against my side and even my thighs. I was naked!

“I can’t wait to find all the places she’s slippery and wet,” Lane murmured against my neck.

“Lane! Put me down. This is… oh, God. Please,” I cried.

I was fighting his hold and Lane did lose his grip with one hand. All at once, I was hoisted up and over his shoulder as if I were a sack of potatoes. I was staring down at the upper curve of his bottom that was exposed by his loose pants. My breasts were pressed against his hard back and my bottom was hoisted up in the air. That meant—

“Lane!” I screamed.

A hand came down hard on my bottom. He’d spanked me.

“You one-balled bull! Put. Me. Down.”

Lane laughed. “Trust me, precious, I’m all man.”

“I like that handprint on her ass, all nice and pink,” Spur commented. Nothing seemed to rile him. Then again, he wasn’t tossed naked over someone’s shoulder. No, he was standing there mouthwateringly bare to the waist, skin damp, pants open. “Settle, Piper, or there will be more.”

Spur’s words didn’t make me calm in the least. I was as riled as a penned badger. A hand stroked over the heated, stinging flesh and I startled. But when it slipped over my folds, I bucked.

“Shh,” Spur soothed. “She is wet everywhere.”

“Wet? What the hell are you talking about?”

I felt Lane’s deep intake of breath. “I can smell her arousal.”

I was going to die of mortification. “Oh, Lane, please, please put me down.”

“Tastes sweet, too,” Spur added. I heard sucking and then realized he must have put his fingers—that had slid over my wet woman’s core—into his mouth.

“Lane,” I cried, even though it seemed futile.