Free The Fortune by Beth Williamson Page A

with her tiny, hard fists. He didn’t want to hurt her but he wasn’t going to allow her to keep beating on him either.  
    “Stop!” He grabbed her wrists, stopping her movements. “I didn’t propose to her, dammit.”
    She stopped her efforts to yank her arms from his grasp. “What?”
    “You heard me. I didn’t propose to her. Hell, I don’t even like her.” He sighed, the fear and anger from the engagement making his stomach churn. “She hid in my tent naked and then waited for her father to appear. I either lost my job and the ranch I plan on starting with the money from it or face a shotgun in my belly.”
    “She tricked you?”
    “Females are the most perverse creatures. Yes, she tricked me. I still don’t know why she’d want to marry a poor cowhand like me. Hell, I ain’t educated and all I know is horses and living outdoors.” He became very aware of the female body on top of his, the heat from her center, square on his. Her scent, one of lemon and woman, washed over him.
    In only seconds, the strange situation turned into a sensual one. His dick throbbed against her backside. There was no way she didn’t feel the hard-on knocking at her door.
    “Perhaps she found you handsome.” Frankie still straddled him, her body growing warmer by the second.  
    His pulse notched up even faster. “You think I’m handsome?” He didn’t know what to think about Frankie—she didn’t reveal much about her feelings, but she did let every thought in her head fly off her tongue. She had kissed him back too.
    “You are not entirely unpleasant to look at.” Her voice had a breathy quality to it.
    “High praise, darlin’.” He shifted beneath her and she made a funny sound in her throat. It almost sounded like a growl.
    She leaned, her hair brushing against his cheek. Her hair was unbound. His pulse thundered as he reached up and touched it. Soft and slippery, her locks slid through his fingers. He brought it to his nose and inhaled.  
    His dick hardened to painful proportions, jammed up against her body. He thrust a little, enough to ease the ache. She gasped and wiggled, which made the painful erection worse. He wanted to push inside her, sheath himself within the soft hot folds of her body. It was almost irresistible, the pull to make her his own. To brand her.
    “You’re still sitting on me.”
    She sighed, her breath gusting past his cheek. “I know. It is wrong, but I cannot seem to make myself move.”
    John could hardly believe she felt it too. The hard, elemental pull between them was strong. He thrust up again and she gasped. Her mouth landed sideways on his and she kissed him as hard as she’d hit him minutes earlier.
    He closed his arms around her, pulling her down until she was flush against him, breast to breast, groin to groin. John’s brain ceased functioning and his body took over. She was heaven in his arms, soft and warm against his achingly hard self. He deepened the kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, exploring her teeth, her tongue and her lips. She met him stroke for stroke, her passion burning brighter than the stars.
    John grabbed her ass and pressed her down. Sweet mercy, she was so hot. All he had to do was unbutton his trousers and slide her skirt up until he reached the slit in her drawers. Then he could plunge into her honeyed heat.
    “Frankie?” one of the Chastain sisters called out.
    John’s eyes flew open and he saw the glimmers of her eyes, wide in the shadows. They were lying on the ground, kissing and grinding on each other.  
    Holy shit.
    She scrambled to her feet and shook out her skirt, her breath choppy in the cool night air. John pressed a hand to his heart and willed it to slow down. He’d almost fucked her on the ground in the open air.
    What the hell had he been thinking?
    “I will be right there, Jo.” Frankie sounded as shaky as he felt.
    He rolled to his knees and winced at the tightness in his drawers. His dick was harder than steel,