Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103370 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Wolf hesitated. He hadn’t been with a woman in quite a while and didn’t know if his resolve would hold. After all, she was his wife and he had every right to couple with her. Still, he had to be sure when he planted his seed inside her it was his that would grow.
“Do you fear you’re not strong enough to resist me and will lose your resolve not to poke me until you discover for yourself no seed grows within me?”
Not only did he grow angry that she realized his thought, but also what she insinuated. “You call me a coward?”
“Your action—or inaction—do that for you.”
Wolf stripped and climbed in the tub.
One look at his hard shaft as he entered the tub had her smiling. “Your protruding shaft speaks loudly.”
“You would be wise to learn to hold that tongue of yours, wife,” he said and settled across from her, bending his legs and planting them on either side of her bent ones.
“And I advise you to grow accustomed to it.”
The warmth of the water calmed him some and her snappish tongue managed to cool his desire. The woman was insufferable. She’d probably take command in bed, a place he preferred to command.
“You show no signs of discomfort of me being naked in front of you or joining you in this tub. Is that because you’ve grown used to seeing naked men?” he challenged.
She laughed and flung her own barb at him.” I spent the last five years with six men. What do you think?”
His brow narrowed. “Six men? There are only five with you.” He leaned forward, the water splashing past her chin. “Where is the sixth man?”
A foolish slip of the tongue on her part. “He’s dead.”
Wolf leaned back, though eyed her skeptically. “How can I be sure you speak the truth and he doesn’t lurk some place in wait.”
“He does lurk someplace—in my heart. I will never forget him. He was the most wonderful man,” she said and her chest grew tight with painful memories of losing the man who had been like a father to her.
This was something he never expected and he found himself asking. “You loved him?”
“More than anything,” she admitted and the ache in her chest grew.
“Do you carry his child?” he demanded.
“No,” she said and after ducking her head to wet her hair completely, she began to scrub it with the slice of soap she had swiped off the stool next to the tub before getting in.
“How do I believe you after you tell me you loved him?” he asked though the question was more for him to contemplate.
“You don’t. It’s impossible to believe someone you don’t trust. Which is why you would never believe me if I told you I’ve never been touched by a man.”
“You claim to be a virgin after telling me you loved a man?” he asked, his chest rumbling with laughter.
“See, you don’t believe me,” she said and hurried to finish washing, the warmth leaving the water. “And you will wait to discover the truth because you don’t trust me.”
That she was right annoyed him and that she might be telling the truth annoyed him even more since he would deny himself the pleasure of his wife and the consummation of their marriage until he could satisfy his worry. But he couldn’t take the chance—he couldn’t trust the word of a thief.
She glared at him. “Can’t trust the word of a thief, can you?” The familiar tic at the corner of his eye let her know she was right. “Don’t be so surprised that I know what you think. I’ve seen that look far too many times before not to know what it means.” She stood, dropping the slice of soap in front of him. “I am who I am, like it or not, husband.”
Wolf watched her climb out of the tub, her shirt clinging to her, showing the outline of a narrow waist and curved hips. Water dripped down her slender legs and her every step, her every movement, was more graceful, more powerful than the next. She grabbed two towels from the stack by the tub and walked over to the hearth slipping one towel beneath her shirt to tuck around her before she slipped the wet shirt off. She dried herself with the other towel. Once she was done, she rinsed her wet shirt near the hearth, the stone hissing where the water hit, then she moved one of the benches in front of the hearth to lay the shirt on it to dry. She went to the bed and snapped up the nightshift that had been left on the bed for her and slipped it on, the towel falling away as the shift drifted down to cover past her knees, allowing no chance at a peek of what lay beneath.