Page 13 of The Prospector's Only Prospect
She rose with a small huff and took his plate with a tetchy look. “Well, I’m not so forgiving as you. Keep your gas to yourself.”
He watched her sashay away in her billowy trousers and new moccasins, then realized that he waswatching herand made himself fetch the bedroll from the wagon. He heard metal clank against rocks as he took a final check of the area.
When he returned to bank the fire, he found Marigold had aligned herself on the very edge of the narrow bedroll. She had her shawl wrapped around her head and shoulders and had left the lion’s share of the bed and blanket for him.
He set his gun to hand and lifted the blanket, stretching out with his back to hers.
She wasn’t as wide and sturdy as the average man, though. When he leaned onto her, she sagged beneath his weight, and her breath rushed out in an “oof.”
It would have been laughable if it hadn’t fully awakened him to the fact he was lying next to a woman for the first time in years.
He tried rolling onto his stomach, but that put half his body on the cold, rough ground. When he shifted more fully onto the mat, his side was pressed right up against her back and ass. Not unpleasant, but it was inappropriate.
Marigold stiffened and tried to inch away, but he was lying on her skirt.
“Um…” She pulled at her skirt, but even after he lifted himself off her clothes, she said, “I’m on the gravel.”
With a grunt of dismay, he rolled onto his back, aware of his body brushing hers as he did. Tension gathered in his belly and blood rushed to his groin. He had the same issue as he’d had on his stomach. The bedroll wasn’t wide enough. His shoulder and leg were on the pebbles. The rocks were worn smooth, but they were cold and hard.
“Perhaps top to toe?” She sounded anxious and stubbornly kept her back to him.
“Then I’d have to take off my boots.” He didn’t want to accidentally kick her in the face, and he wanted to be able to hotfoot it if he needed to.
Oh, screw it.He rolled to face her and scooped her close. At least they would both be warm.
She went stiff as a board, and so did his cock. He didn’t mean it to, and he sure as hell wasn’t wanting it to, but she’d scrubbed herself in the stream and her hair smelled like mountain air, and it had been a really, really long time since he’d held a woman this close.
“Virgil—”
“Ignore it,” he ordered into the hair that tickled his lips.
If only he could take his own advice. She was sosoft. It took everything in him not to knead his touch against the give of her tense stomach and explore the roundness of her hips and the pliancy of her thighs.
“Breathe,” he ordered.
She exhaled raggedly and gasped another one in, like she was drowning and only surfaced for a moment.
“Marigold, I was faithful to my wife even though I didn’t see her for years. Even when women in saloons sat in my lap and pushed their…”Don’t say tits. Don’t think about hers.“Their bosom in my face, I kept my vows. I can control myself for one night. Go to sleep.”
“Get off my hair, then.”
He shifted, and she dragged her tail of plaited hair free, still tense.
“Give me the cushion,” he said. “You can rest your head on my arm.”
“You should have bought two if you wanted one.” She gave it up anyway, then grumbled, “The ground is cold.” She snuggled deeper into the curve of his body.
His eyes popped open. This was such torture, his eyes prit-near crossed into the other’s socket. Despite the layers of skirt and bloomers and drawers, he could all too well detect the warm, smooth curve of her ass. The heavenly crevice. Damn, that was nice.
“What if something attacks us in the night?” she asked.
“Then I’ll shoot you so you don’t suffer too long.”
“Very funny. Where were you when I was getting a divorce? I could have used that chivalry.” She yawned. “Good night, hard-ass.”
“Good night,lady.”
“Hmph.” It was a tiny noise of amusement, but for some reason it pleased him.
