Read Online The Marriage Charm (Bliss County 2) by Linda Lael Miller - Free Book Online
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
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low voice, “Come on, Melody, you know I think you’re beautiful. That was never our problem.”
No, he was right. With him, in his arms, she’d always felt every inch a woman. In fact, she’d become a woman. At twenty, even in this day and age and halfway through college, she’d been a virgin. Not a conscious choice, really, but she’d had the nagging thought that it might have been. She was the naive fool who’d saved herself for him, as she’d realized later, when she faced the bitter truth.
*
F OR A VERY long time she’d had a crush on Spencer Hogan. When it turned into a love affair, she’d gone in feet first, like jumping off a cliff. It had been awkward when he’d grasped that she had zero experience, but all in all, they’d managed pretty well, probably because he sure hadn’t saved himself for her. She was well aware that even in high school he’d had a reputation as a player.
Over the next few months, practice had improved the situation. They’d practiced on every horizontal surface available until it came time for her to enroll for fall college classes. They’d continued their relationship—or that part of it, anyway—even after that disastrous proposal of hers, followed by his humiliating rejection, in early July. All summer long, they’d been lovers. She’d still thought they had a future.
Then he’d cut her loose.
He’d wanted a summer fling, so why couldn’t she just do the same thing now?
That annoying inner voice, the one she wished would shut up, whispered, Because that’s not you, dummy. Especially when it comes to this man .
He was beautiful, too, with all that dark hair and those oh-so-blue eyes. At least she’d put on a new bra with matching panties when she’d gotten dressed, since that was all she had. She hadn’t done laundry in a while, thanks to the wedding festivities.
He ran his finger along the scalloped lace edge over the curve of her right breast. “My X-ray vision missed this. Nice.”
She retorted, “It’s a laundry issue, so don’t think I wore it for you.”
“I hope you won’t mind if I admire it more off you than on.” He deftly undid the clasp in front and slipped it off her shoulders. At some later time, she’d probably resent that level of expertise.
Don’t think about that .
In his usual audacious way, he just picked her up and deposited her on the bed. His room was masculine, but then again, he was Spencer Hogan, male through and through. A rough-hewn bed with a headboard made of pine logs took center stage. It was covered with a bedspread in browns and greens patterned with pine trees, and there was a single dresser, a nightstand with a reading lamp and a door to what she assumed was a closet. A window with a view of the mountains drew the eye. No other decorations.
The view alone was probably the reason there wasn’t a single picture on the wall. What was the point? No framed picture could match it, spring, summer, fall or winter, but her attention was currently riveted elsewhere.
When he shed his clothes, she could see that his body certainly hadn’t changed, still honed and muscular, his broad chest tapering to a taut waist and narrow hips. She knew he worked out because she’d seen his truck at the local gym; Bex owned it and she went there, too. She also knew that he rode Reb every day, rain or shine.
His aroused state reminded her that sexual attraction was never their problem, either. Any more than mutual appreciation of each other’s looks had been. On the physical level, they’d had no complaints.
“You won’t need these.” Her panties went next as he hooked his fingers in the thin bits of lace and drew them down her legs.
When he stretched out on top of her, her heart was beating at a pace that would send the average race car driver slamming into a wall at curve three. He stroked her breast and said the most romantic thing possible, which certainly didn’t help matters.
“I’ve missed you.”
Three simple
No, he was right. With him, in his arms, she’d always felt every inch a woman. In fact, she’d become a woman. At twenty, even in this day and age and halfway through college, she’d been a virgin. Not a conscious choice, really, but she’d had the nagging thought that it might have been. She was the naive fool who’d saved herself for him, as she’d realized later, when she faced the bitter truth.
*
F OR A VERY long time she’d had a crush on Spencer Hogan. When it turned into a love affair, she’d gone in feet first, like jumping off a cliff. It had been awkward when he’d grasped that she had zero experience, but all in all, they’d managed pretty well, probably because he sure hadn’t saved himself for her. She was well aware that even in high school he’d had a reputation as a player.
Over the next few months, practice had improved the situation. They’d practiced on every horizontal surface available until it came time for her to enroll for fall college classes. They’d continued their relationship—or that part of it, anyway—even after that disastrous proposal of hers, followed by his humiliating rejection, in early July. All summer long, they’d been lovers. She’d still thought they had a future.
Then he’d cut her loose.
He’d wanted a summer fling, so why couldn’t she just do the same thing now?
That annoying inner voice, the one she wished would shut up, whispered, Because that’s not you, dummy. Especially when it comes to this man .
He was beautiful, too, with all that dark hair and those oh-so-blue eyes. At least she’d put on a new bra with matching panties when she’d gotten dressed, since that was all she had. She hadn’t done laundry in a while, thanks to the wedding festivities.
He ran his finger along the scalloped lace edge over the curve of her right breast. “My X-ray vision missed this. Nice.”
She retorted, “It’s a laundry issue, so don’t think I wore it for you.”
“I hope you won’t mind if I admire it more off you than on.” He deftly undid the clasp in front and slipped it off her shoulders. At some later time, she’d probably resent that level of expertise.
Don’t think about that .
In his usual audacious way, he just picked her up and deposited her on the bed. His room was masculine, but then again, he was Spencer Hogan, male through and through. A rough-hewn bed with a headboard made of pine logs took center stage. It was covered with a bedspread in browns and greens patterned with pine trees, and there was a single dresser, a nightstand with a reading lamp and a door to what she assumed was a closet. A window with a view of the mountains drew the eye. No other decorations.
The view alone was probably the reason there wasn’t a single picture on the wall. What was the point? No framed picture could match it, spring, summer, fall or winter, but her attention was currently riveted elsewhere.
When he shed his clothes, she could see that his body certainly hadn’t changed, still honed and muscular, his broad chest tapering to a taut waist and narrow hips. She knew he worked out because she’d seen his truck at the local gym; Bex owned it and she went there, too. She also knew that he rode Reb every day, rain or shine.
His aroused state reminded her that sexual attraction was never their problem, either. Any more than mutual appreciation of each other’s looks had been. On the physical level, they’d had no complaints.
“You won’t need these.” Her panties went next as he hooked his fingers in the thin bits of lace and drew them down her legs.
When he stretched out on top of her, her heart was beating at a pace that would send the average race car driver slamming into a wall at curve three. He stroked her breast and said the most romantic thing possible, which certainly didn’t help matters.
“I’ve missed you.”
Three simple
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