Surrendered on the Frontier by Jane Henry

implied threat go straight between my legs, I dipped my bucket, filling it with the cool, fresh water. I rose to my feet and turned my back to him, walking home, as I muttered loud enough for him to hear, “And I’ve not yet convinced you that I like to be left alone.”
    I could hear him behind me, his footsteps gaining on me with every crack and snap of the twigs beneath his heavy boots. He was coming at a rapid pace, and I wondered if that meant he was angry. My heartbeat accelerated. I quickened my pace, but I was carrying a heavy bucket of water, and his legs were far longer than mine.
    “Give me that bucket,” he ordered.
    “I can hold it myself,” I said from behind clenched teeth, and before I knew what was happening, his hands were on mine, and the bucket was taken from me. He placed it on the ground. He snatched my wrist in his own, spun me around, and landed one hard, solid swat to my skirt-clad bottom.
    “Young lady, I’ve had quite enough.”
    I gasped, my hands flying to my backside. I was too shocked to be angry, finally lifting my eyes to his. His unapologetic act of dominance awakened in me something elusive but undeniable. I liked him being in charge. I could see his shadowed eyes now that he was standing in front of me. He merely grabbed the bucket in one hand and my hand in the other. I tried to pull my hand away but he held tight.
    “How dare you—”
    He looked down on me, interrupting me. His eyes flashed, and I couldn’t remember seeing him so angry. “No, Ruth. How dare you ? I’ve done everything I could to keep you safe, watchin’ over you when Leroy was on the loose and we feared for your safety. Buildin’ you that solid house sturdy enough to keep out predators. And now I come to check in on you, and I’m met with outright defiance?”
    We were walking quickly back to the barn, and I couldn’t see his eyes. I merely continued to glare ahead of me as he tugged me along by the hand.
    “I can take care of myself ,” I said. “I don’t need your help!”
    We’d reached the barn. He placed the bucket of water down, and now that he had two free hands, he pulled me into him. One hand went to my jaw, gently but firmly holding my face and staring me in the eyes.
    “Woman, you’d try the patience of a saint,” he said.
    “You’re not a saint,” I spat out, and I was about to reply with another scathing retort, when he leaned in and his lips met mine. His hand still on my jaw, the other went to the small of my back, drawing me closer to him. I was awash with the scent of coffee and hay and tobacco. I could feel not only his hand on my jaw and back, but with his flank pulled up against me, his hardness right against my stomach. His mouth tasted like mint, and as his tongue flicked into my mouth, another lick of arousal heated my core. He was backing me up, back against the wall, and I couldn’t stop him if I wanted to. But I did not want to.
    A need rose in me, the need to feel him, stronger and harder than he was now, not just his lips but all of him. I needed him to take me as I was, to help me forget my anger and my hurt, and to drive my frustrations out of me.
    He released my jaw, steered me away from the wall and lowered me to the ground, the soft hay prickling my back, his arms still cradling me as he continued to kiss me. His hand smoothed over my skirts. My hips rose at his touch. I kissed him fiercely, almost angrily, wanting him not to just kiss me but to take me. I wanted to be claimed, owned, possessed, every bit of me his.
    His hand hiked up my skirt and roved over my undergarments, pushing past the layers until he found my sensitive parts. He groped as my hips jerked upward. He’d brought me to ecstasy once, and now here, in this heated moment with his lips plundering my mouth, I felt my need building again. When he pulled his hand away, I whimpered into his mouth.
    He lifted his mouth to my ear. “Am I too rough with you?”
    “No,” I moaned. “ No. I need you