The Unexpected Wife(31)

Shaking off the image, Abby lifted her skirts and started toward the house, taking one careful step at a time. Icy snow crunched under her feet seconds before she slipped. She fell back hard and would have hit the ground if Mr. Barrington hadn’t had a hold of her.

The ice made regaining her footing all the more difficult. Instinct had her grabbing onto his coat lapels and pulling herself upright. She found herself facing his dimpled chin, her knuckles pressing against his muscled chest. Their lips were only inches apart.

His heart hammered in his chest against her hand. Warm breath brushed her cheek as he angled his face forward a fraction. Desire pulsed in her veins.

Before she thought, she rose up on tiptoe and gripped his sleeves with quivering fingers. Her heart raced and without a thought to propriety, she pressed her lips to his. Her closemouthed kiss was chaste by any standards and she felt awkward as he stood as rigid as a stone, staring down at her with eyes as black as Satan’s. Suddenly, she felt foolish. She scrambled for an apology.

She didn’t need one.

His strong arm banded around her narrow waist and he pulled her against his chest, his arousal pressing into her thigh.





For Matthias, Abby’s chaste kiss was like a spark to dry tinder. Desire flamed in him, scorching his veins with a white-hot need. He gave no thought to the past or the future but only to satisfying a lust thrumming in his veins—the lust he thought had died.

In the pale moonlight, he saw surprise flicker in Abby’s eyes as she looked up at him. She’d never been properly kissed, and he thought for an instant that he’d frightened her and that she’d go stumbling back to the cabin to the safety of her loft. In truth, it would be best for them both.

Instead, she leaned forward, pressing her full breasts against his chest.

As if his body had a will of its own, Matthias slid his hand up her back and cupped her neck in his hand. Fisting a handful of hair, he tugged her head back. Their warm breaths mingled in the chilled night.

The cold night air forgotten, he kissed her on the mouth fully. Moaning, she wrapped her arms around his neck. The fire in his veins burned hotter.

He slid his tongue into her mouth. He explored, demanded, possessed. She tasted as sweet as honey and he was ready to devour her here and now.

She moaned softly as he lowered his hand to her breast and circled the nipple until it formed a hard peak.

He trailed kisses down from her lips to the hollow of her neck. “God help me, but I want you.”

She arched back, moistening her lips with her tongue. “Yes.”

He stared down at her pale face in the dim moonlight. Her breasts pushed against his chest with each ragged breath of hers. Her thighs quivered. White-hot lust surged in his veins and loins.

Consequences be damned. He’d take her back to the barn and on a fresh mound of hay make love to her. His need had grown wild, tormented by too many long nights without a woman.

He kissed her again, nibbling her bottom lip with his teeth as he cupped her full round breast. Frustrated by the fabric that separated him from her bare flesh, he bunched the fabric in his hand, ready to tear it.

The front door to the cabin opened with a bang. “Pa, are you out there?” Quinn’s voice skidded through the night and struck him like a cold blast of air.

As if he’d been doused with a bucket of ice water, he broke the kiss. Still holding Abby, he stared down at her. Her hair was tousled, her lips swollen and her eyes misty with desire from his kiss.

“What the hell are we doing,” he said, his words scraping over his vocal cords.

She blinked, pressing her fingertips to her lips. The clouds faded from her eyes. “I wouldn’t think it needed explanation.”

Releasing her, he shoved his fingers through his hair.

“Pa!” Quinn shouted louder.

“I’ll be right there, Quinn. Shut the door so you don’t let the heat out.”

“Are you coming in soon?”

“Yes, just close the door, son.”

“Okay, Pa.”

When the door slammed shut, Matthias tried to collect the shattered pieces of his composure. His erection still throbbed, a painful reminder of what had almost happened. “I’m sorry.”

Sadness and frustration collided in her eyes. “I’m not.”

“We shouldn’t have done that,” he rasped.

“It’s not a sin to live again.”

In the year since Elise had died he’d lived in limbo. Each day he’d not concentrated on anything more than his boys and just getting through the day. Now in the blink of an eye, he had another woman living under his roof stirring desires so strong they rivaled what he’d felt for Elise.

He’d not done anything wrong, but he couldn’t shake the gnawing guilt in his gut.