Free River Bound: Bound and Tied, Book 3 by Myla Jackson Page A

woman in his arms, his fear dissolving, a smile sliding across his lips. “You have it, don’t you?”
    “If I did, why would I tell you?”
    “Because you’re the most wonderful woman in the entire world.” He hugged her, lifted her off her feet and spun her around the room. “Thank you.”
    When he set her on her feet, she stood stiff, her jaw tight. “Dalton, did you kill those men to steal the gold?”
    His smile faded. That she suspected him of murder cut him to the quick. “You think me capable of killing a man for a bag of gold?”
    “I don’t know what to think. When I found the bag of gold…” Her eyes filled and she turned away. She walked to the corner where she’d left her trunks and stood staring into their contents. “I didn’t know what to think.”
    Dalton had hoped she’d trust him, but then when had he given her much of a reason to place her faith in him?
    He walked up behind Rosalyn and laid his hands on her shoulders. She stiffened, the movement plunging a knife into Dalton’s heart.
    He sighed. “Where did you hide the gold?”
    Rosalyn ducked beneath his arm and moved a few feet away. “I have it on me.”
    Dalton’s lips twitched. “You hid an entire bag of gold on you with the marshal looking through your room?” He cupped her face. “You defy explanation.”
    “Not really. A woman’s skirts can hide a lot of sin.” She bent to gather her hem and lifted the ends of her skirt up to her waist. The bag of gold hung low over her pelvis, dangling between her pantaloon-covered legs.
    Dalton’s cock hardened. He reached out to untie the ribbon holding the bag of gold around her middle. He let the bag fall to the floor, one hand holding on to Rosalyn to keep her from darting away. “Have I told you today how amazing you are?” He cupped her ass, pulling her close, the thin muslin of the pantaloons a teasing barrier between them. If she wasn’t already suspicious of him, he’d rip off his clothing and drive deep inside her.
    The tiny dent in her brow worried him, slowing his desired raucous pace to one of gentle coaxing. This woman needed loving in a special way. A way that showed her that he knew her, what she liked, and most of all, that she could trust him.
    His fingers tugged at the bow holding her drawers up. The knot slipped loose and the material slid down her legs.
    Dalton bent to untie the ribbons around her ankles, easing the drawers over the tops of her boots and off. Kneeling in front of her, he stared up at her naked legs framed by the delicate crinoline and petticoat beneath her full black taffeta gown. Without the drawers, the tuft of dark hair over her pussy stood out against the white of her undergarments.
    His mouth dry, Dalton swept his tongue across his lips, imagining the taste of her sweet juices. He straightened, letting her skirts fall down around her, and turned her back to him. He pushed her hair aside and kissed the long slender line of her neck exposed by the low cut of her bodice. With deliberate and painfully slow movements, he loosened the ribbons of her bodice, drawing them through the eyelets one at a time.
    Rosalyn’s body swayed toward him, a moan rising in her chest.
    The bodice fell to the floor, revealing a black corset, trimmed in brown and ivory lace. He worked the laces at the back until the stays were loose enough the corset could be slipped over her head. The corset joined the bodice on the floor. He made quick work of the skirt, the petticoat and the crinoline, each dropping in a pool around her until she stood in nothing but a shear cream chemise, her thighs peeking from beneath the hem.
    Dalton turned her in his arms, his desire overwhelming the need to take it slowly to build her trust. His lips crashed down over hers, his hands gripping her arms, crushing her to his chest. He swept past her teeth to taste and twist his tongue around hers, slipping in and out in the age-old dance of lovers’ bodies joining in the most intimate way.