He stopped the wagon, and got down, then he came on her side and helped her down, but as he did so he held her in the air. She laughed, "What are you doing?"
"I forgot to kiss you good morning this morning," he told her and as he brought her down, his lips fastened onto hers. It was a sweet surrender. She swooned, a sudden rapture taking control of her. She smelled the hay and leather on him, she tasted the sweet saltiness of his lips. And kissing was becoming her favorite pastime with her husband. She shouldn't enjoy it so much, but that part was hard to control.
She was hungry for that kiss, hungry for the sweet persuasion of his so-soft lips. She'd missed it too, this morning as she'd grown used to his routines.
When her lips moved with his, he groaned and pulled her closer. She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him down to her. The kiss went on so long they were both breathless when they pulled apart. She was quickly acquiring a taste for her husband, and a bond was growing between them. It was a strong bond. She should be ashamed for enjoying it so much, but she couldn't muster the shame either.
When he raised his head, he pulled her up into the air again, and as he brought her down, he kissed her, holding her there, their bodies fusing to one another, their lips melding like hot metal and fire. She had quickly acquired a taste for his kisses, and the way he persuaded her lips to part and their tongues joined in a silent waltz.
He slowly sat her back on the ground.
She blushed when their eyes met.
"Why did we stop?"
"Stop kissing or moving on?" He asked softly.
She laughed. "Moving on."
"There's a spot here, I wanted to show you." He took her hand and squeezed it gently in his. He led her over to a cliff that overlooked miles and miles of beautiful Texas land.
"When we leave, we'll head straight up that trail. And when we come back, we'll come back the same way."
"Oh, how far do you go?" she asked, staring at the land.
"Kansas."
"Oh my, that's a long way, isn't it?"
"It's miles of bad weather, Indians, outlaws and all kinds of accidents. But we're also used to it."
"How long you been going up the trail?" she asked curiously.
"Fourteen years."
"You must have started early." Something seemed to dawn on her. "I guess I never asked but how old are you?"
"I'll be thirty my next birthday. And you?"
"I'm twenty-four." She said a little sadly.
"You say that like it makes you sad."
"I never figured I'd marry. Back home I was considered old for marriage. I used to throw my hair up in a bun in the back, so my hair didn't get tangled in my mop water. I wore drab clothes so the dirt wouldn't show, and I looked older than I was. They had a gay old time of making fun of me."
"Oh, why is that?" He looked at her with a slight smile.
"I'm twenty-four Lance, most women are married with a houseful of children."
"Did you have beaus back home?"
"No, I worked too much, and then took care of my dad. There wasn't time for such frivolit
ies."
"Well, you don't have to worry about that now, you are married."
"I wasn't your choice, Lance. I was your mistake."