She yawned against his chest. “Maybe after I’ve had a nap?”
He stroked her hair, smoothing it back from her brow. “Tired?”
She snuggled into his neck. “Yes.”
He suppressed a yawn of his own. He slid his hand over her waist and up the curve of her hip. She seemed to blend into his touch. As natural as breathing, his palm curved over the globe of her ass. She shivered, and it wasn’t from cold.
He dipped his fingers into the crease and lightly traced her anus. “Did you like it when I took you here?”
A slight tension stiffened her muscles. “It felt strange at first.”
“And then?”
She didn’t answer.
He kissed her temple. “Did you like it later?”
“Yes.”
He hugged her and moved his hand back to her ass cheek. “I’m glad.”
The tension left her muscles. He wondered if she’d thought he would think her enjoyment was improper. He yawned again. “I hope you don’t think less of me, Mrs. MacIntyre, but I’m about played out.”
She stroked his chest comfortingly. “Me, too.”
He reached down and pulled the covers over their bodies. “Then cuddle up here, darlin’, and we’ll get some sleep.”
She was out before he finished talking. With one last stoke of her hair, he closed his eyes and joined her.
Chapter Sixteen
Weary and pleasantly worn out after four days of lovemaking, Asa saddled up Shameless. As much as he’d like to spend the next year or so in bed with his wife, he had a ranch to save. The Rocking C meant everything to Elizabeth. If he wanted to hold onto her, he had to hold onto it. It was simple, but it had been his experience that most things usually were. Sift through all the sediment and there would usually be some shining truths. He tightened the girth and dropped the stirrup into position. Of all the things he’d gained in his life, Elizabeth was the one thing he didn’t plan on giving up.
“You ready, Shameless?” he asked the patient horse. Dust flew as he patted the sorrel’s neck. Not by the twitch of an ear did the horse indicate agreement. “I know what you mean. It’s a lazy day, but we’ve got work to do.”
Catching the bridle, he led the horse out the barn door. Shameless protested with a hard blow of his lips.
“You’d best be finding your pepper, old son, ‘cause we got to head over to the East Range. Clint claimed there was Rocking C stock running loose there.”
He scratched the horse behind his ears. “That means you get to run,” he coaxed. As if he understood, Shameless perked up his step. Asa grinned. “Thought that might help you shake off the blankets.”
He cast a wary eye to the sky. “Sure enough looks like bad weather moving in.” He checked the knots securing his poncho to the back of the saddle. “Damn, I hate getting wet.”
“The mighty Asa MacIntyre has a weakness?”
He turned and found Elizabeth holding a sack containing his lunch. In her red gingham dress, she looked as fresh as a spring day and just as inviting.
“Every now and then, one crops up.” Like you, he thought.
Her smile was shy. Her hair was back in its prissy bun. Remembering the night before, he hooked his arm around her neck and pulled her close for a kiss. He swallowed her gasp and seduced her mouth like he wanted to do to her body. When she stepped back, red-cheeked, her hair came tumbling down around her shoulders.
She grabbed for the mass, but it slid through her grasp, curling around her shoulders and falling into her face like living silk. “How did you—?”
“Now you look like my Elizabeth.”
She shook her head at him while holding out her hand for her hairpins. “Not even for you, husband, will I go around looking like a harlot.”
“I could order you to,” he pointed out as he combined the pins into one hand.
She swapped his lunch for the pins, then set to work immediately on her hair. “You won’t,” she mumbled around the pins sticking out of her mouth like quills on a porcupine. She twisted the waist-length strands into a rope and, with a couple of flicks, reestablished the bun on top of her head. Four jabs and her mouth was free of hairpins.
She seemed pretty confident. A more optimistic man might call her cocky. He adopted his most impressive don’t-tell-me-what-to-do expression. “I might.”
Instead of backing up, she stepped forward until her breasts brushed his chest. “You won’t.”
“I won’t?”
She smiled. “Nope.”
“Your grammar’s slipping,” he informed her.
“So’s your ability to give orders, but I’m not lecturing you on it.”
“You’re probably just waiting on a better moment.” He shifted his grip on his lunch. “So,” he asked, raising his arms slightly so she could slip hers around his waist. “Why am I not going to order you to wear your hair down?”