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“Garth, honey. Please.”
“I don’t know what to say to you. We hardly know one another. I-I’m doing you and Mary Alice a favor. Nothing more.”
“I won’t touch you, Ruth,” he said, his bronze eyes burning, “unless you want me to.”
“Mary Alice—”
“Is asleep. You’ve taken good care of her. I’m grateful.”
Ruth gasped. He was grateful? “Did you just say…”
“Thank you. I said thank you.”
“She’s a lovely child. I’m happy to help.”
“Is it only Mary Alice you want to help?”
“I’m a preacher’s daughter. I’ve been raised to help where I’m needed.”
“I thought maybe…”
“Maybe what?”
“That is, I was hoping that you might be helping Mary Alice because you…cared a tiny bit for”—he cleared his throat—“me.”
“I hardly know you—”
“Confound it, would you stop saying that, woman?” He lunged toward her, gripped her shoulders, and kissed her hard.
Tendrils of heated passion coiled between Ruth’s legs. Garth’s powerful bulge pushed into her lower belly and she gasped, yet couldn’t stop herself from rubbing into the hardness. Her mind whirled with uncertainty, but her body knew what to do. Knew just how to grind into his masculine potency so that the pulse between her thighs intensified, blazed, and a rush of desire clawed at her from somewhere within.
His mouth ravaged hers. No gentle kiss this time. This was deep. Raw. Possessive.
Ruth went limp against his strength. His clothes would soil her chemise and petticoats, but she didn’t care. All that mattered in this moment was kissing Garth. Bringing her body closer to his.
Sweet Lord, the temptation. Such a beautiful strong man, and he wanted her. Plain Ruth Blackburn. Spinster schoo
lteacher.
Garth ripped his mouth from hers, sucked in a breath, and sprinkled wet kisses across both her cheeks. “My God, I’d do just about anything to have you right now. I’ll marry you if that’s what you want. I swear it, Ruthie. I swear it.”
Her knees buckled under her, but he held her steady. Had she heard correctly? He wanted to marry her?
“Garth, I—”
He plunged his tongue into her mouth again as he thrust his arousal against her. Oh, the sweet sensation. His fingers crept down her arm, leaving a trail of pleasant chills in their path. He grasped her derriere and squeezed, and then crept under the waistband of her petticoats. His bare fingers against the flesh of her buttocks inflamed her to new heights. Improper though it was, she wanted his touch. Craved it.
“Oh!”
His warm hand slid to the front and entwined in her brown curls. He cupped her, and then slid a finger into her private heat.
“Wet, Ruthie.” His hoarse voice hummed against her trembling lips. “God, so wet.”
Icy fear speared her gut. This was wrong. So wrong. So why did she want it so much?
Fear won out over need, and Ruth pulled away, her breath heaving in rapid pants.
“Damn, honey, I’m sorry.”
