Their Reckless Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 11)

He released his hold so abruptly, I almost lost my balance once again. I felt… cold and alone without his touch, even though he was right before me.

Slowly, he crossed his arms over his chest and winked. “Don’t let us stop you.”

His friend, the handsome red-haired man, came to stand beside him. I could get past them, but they felt like a heavily-muscled wall blocking my way.

“I can’t… I can’t bathe with you here!”

I shivered thinking about the very idea and I continued to cover my fear and confusion by bickering. If I acted tough, perhaps they wouldn’t be able to see past the façade to the real me, the one where I was very affected by them. That I wasn’t scared of them as I was Barton Finch or even my family, but was frightened in a different way. A way that had me fearing they could see all the way to my soul.

The red-haired man, the one the sheriff called Charlie, held out my soap, the little bar I’d set upon the rock beside my gun. Where the sheriff was outright grinning, this one’s lips turned up in a small smile. He was equally amused, but wasn’t quite so… pushy. He didn’t have to be with actions or words, giving me the soap was enough. He agreed with the sheriff. They weren’t keeping me from bathing.

“Why not? You watched us at our most vulnerable. We can watch you take your bath.”

“I saved you from those men,” I countered, setting my hands on my hips. Both their gazes dropped with the action.

“And we’ll save you from anything that might happen while you’re washing,” Charlie said. Yes, he did have an accent, proving he wasn’t from these parts.

I pursed my lips, narrowed my gaze. “You two are no gentlemen.”

They shook their heads slowly and chuckled.

“Never said we were,” the sheriff replied.

The other thumbed over his shoulder. “But we’re not like the Grove gang. Our intentions are honorable.”

My mouth fell open and I sputtered. “Honorable? Honorable? How can you be honorable if you intend to watch a woman… a stranger, bathe in a creek? Naked.” I added the last for clarification.

They both looked bemused now. “How else would you bathe besides naked?”

I rolled my eyes and screeched. Reaching out, I grabbed the soap that was still held out on offer and walked up the creek. Just because I took it from him didn’t mean I was going to bathe. I just couldn’t stare at the attractive man holding the sliver of my favorite soap in his large hand. It seemed so… intimate.

“Very well. I’m Charlie and the sheriff’s Hank,” the red-haired man said as way of introduction. “Now we’re not strangers.”

Spinning on my heel to face them again, I gave them a dark, exasperated stare. “You are… brutes!”

They really weren’t. I knew brutes and these two weren’t them. I didn’t know of any other way to behave but to be defensive. To snarl and claw. To fight and push them away. Keeping them at a distance, even if it meant they didn’t like me, was safe.

The sheriff tipped his head back and laughed.

“What do you want with me?” I asked, completely confused. Why weren’t they upset? Why weren’t the calling me names like bitch or worthless female? While he’d kissed me, it was full of intent, but not molestation. Not assault.

“Discovering the perfection that’s hidden beneath those horrible men’s clothes?” Hank asked. “Besides seeing your naked body dripping wet? Watching your hand slide a bar of soap over your breasts? Seeing your hair long and unbraided? Getting a glimpse of your pussy and wondering if it’s wet because of us or the creek?”

My mouth fell open and no words came out. No ire. No rebuttal. I’d never been spoken to in such a manner. Barton Finch had told me what he was going to do to me—fuck every one of your holes until you’re all stretched out and useless—but that was nothing like the sheriff’s words. His made me feel… desired.

The way both of them stared at me, with heated, intense gazes, made me shiver. Made me want to strip bare for them and let them look their fill. Somehow, I’d made them look that way, and I felt oddly powerful in a way I never had before.

Charlie put his hand at the front of his pants and… rearranged himself. When he moved his hand away, I could only stare. There. Beneath his dark pants was a bulge. No… a very large, very obvious bulge that had the shape of a, of a… of fuck, a lead pipe. It angled upward toward his belt and I would swear it grew as I watched.

“We want you,” he said finally.

“I’m not offering,” I countered, licking my lips. I had to remain vigilant in my restraint, even if these two were so overwhelming it felt like the creek was rising up and about to wash me away. Earlier, Barton Finch had been all over me and he’d made me feel cheap. Dirty. Worthless. And now, these two wanted the same thing and I felt completely different. Why? I didn’t understand.

Their gazes raked over me. “Yes, we can see that. You’ve done everything possible to hide that you’re a woman. Why is that?” he asked, stepping closer, then closer still.

“It’s none of your business,” I snapped. “I saved your life, you’ve given your thanks. Now, you may go.”

“Being sassy isn’t going to help you, love,” Charlie said. This close, I could see his brows were a darker shade of red, similar in color to the whiskers on his jaw. His eyes were mesmerizing, an emerald green. I was so used to seeing menace and evil when a man looked at me. With him, it was clear interest, no malice.