Okay, since In Your Arms, the third full-length novel in my Montana Romance series, comes out in three weeks, I thought I’d take the opportunity to revisit the other books in the series with some of my favorite scenes. And so, here is one of my favorite scenes from Our Little Secrets….
“Michael, can I ask you something?” Charlotte propped herself up on one arm in bed and looked down at Michael’s closed eyes. The morning sunlight was warm against her bare back, filling her with well-being like she hadn’t felt in years.
“No,” he mumbled. “We said no questions, remember?”
“It’s not that sort of question,” she giggled. Not that she hadn’t been trying to sneak questions about his past into every conversation for the last two weeks. “Can I ask you something different?”
“No,” he repeated, rolling from his back to his side facing her, eyes still closed. “It’s Saturday. Saturday’s are for sleeping in, not asking questions.”
Charlotte’s grin widened. Even half asleep her new husband found delightful ways to tease her. Although she wasn’t sure if he could still be called her new husband after two whole glorious weeks of marriage. Her new life was turning out to be everything she had hoped it would be and more.
“Why does the world manufacture so much hyperbole around sexual intercourse?”
Michael pried one eye open, arching his eyebrow. “Charlie, I am not even remotely awake enough to begin to answer a question phrased like that.”
Charlotte flopped to her back, staring up at the ceiling. She rested one arm on the pillow above her head while the other one was trapped at her side as Michael cuddled close to her. He rested his head against her shoulder and stretched his arm across her stomach. She sighed in contentment, happier than she’d ever been.
“It’s just that I’ve always been told that respectable women abhor all things sexual and any woman who actually enjoys her husband’s attentions isn’t much better than a common whore.”
“You’re not a whore,” Michael murmured.
“I know I’m not,” Charlotte pondered, playing with her hair above her head, “but I’m sure my step-sister would argue otherwise. She would accuse me of all sorts of things for the way I enjoy making love with you.”
Michael muttered something that might have been “thank you”.
“Especially since we aren’t much more than strangers. If I only knew more about you.” He replied to her niggling with a wordless mumble. She let several silent moments pass before saying, “Do you suppose I’m unusual for enjoying myself so thoroughly with you even though we barely know each other?”
“Charlie, you are thoroughly unique,” he answered.
Charlotte arched an eyebrow and craned her neck to look at him. Her heart did a satisfying flip in her chest. Michael wasn’t what society would consider handsome, but she found him altogether wonderful. His face and body were slack with sleep. That entirely male part of him was far more interested in what she had to say.
“You don’t have to be head-over-heels smitten with someone to find happiness with them in bed, do you?” she mused on.
“No you don’t.” He grunted, stretched and rolled to his back.
Charlotte moved with him, spreading her naked body across his and sliding one leg between his. She rested her chin on her hands above his chest. “I like the things we do in bed very, very much.” She arched an eyebrow.
“I know,” Michael said, more awake than she thought he was. “You liked it very, very much three times last night. Which is why I need to sleep this morning. Saturdays are for sleeping in.”
A grin split Charlotte’s lips. “You were very, very likable three times last night.”
“And that, dear husband, is my point. Why is it that conventional wisdom says that a woman is not supposed to enjoy sexual intercourse? It is by its nature pure enjoyment.”
“When done right.”
“And we do it right.”
He let out a breath that might have been a laugh. Charlotte gasped as it dawned on her that her weight might be crushing him. She lifted herself above him.
“A woman has every right to enjoy pleasure as much as a man,” she went on. “I don’t care what my step-sister says.”
“Charlie,” Michael pulled her closer as the air between them cooled, “it is much too early for you to be a suffragette. Go back to sleep.”
He rolled to his side again, turning her with him to spoon with her. After a beat he said, “So you have a step-sister, do you?”
Charlotte’s stomach quivered the way it had every time he’d come close to discovering something about her old life. “Believe me, I’d like to forget. In fact, never mind. I don’t have a step-sister at all.”
“Is she the reason you left Philadelphia?”
Michael’s grin was warm against the back of her shoulder. “Stop talking. I’m trying to get my extra sleep. I’m going to need it for this stupid dance tonight.”
“The cowboy dance is not stupid,” Charlotte scolded him. It would have been easier to be irritated if he wasn’t stroking her breast. She felt so safe in his arms. “It’s an important town function hosted by the Ladies’ Auxiliary.”
“I’m sure your step-sister would be proud,” Michael drawled.
“Yes,” Charlotte fired back, “and I’m sure whoever you got this ring from would be just as – ouch!”
He pinched her nipple to cut her off. Then he laughed, a rumbling, drowsy laugh.
“I see how it is.” She heaved a sigh and snuggled against him.
She let a long silence pass between them. His body was warm and tantalizing and so familiar to her now when so much else was a mystery. She wanted to know all of him.
“I just think that it’s important that we set a good example for the rest of the town,” she went on before his breathing could become too regular.
“For Christ’s sake, go to sleep, Emily.”
Charlotte’s eyes popped wide. She sat bolt-upright.
“What did you call me?”
Michael blinked, eyelids heavy, and rubbed a hand through his hair. Then he gasped, eyes widening and then squeezing shut.
“I’m sorry.” He winced. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. That was unforgivable.”
“Who is Emily?” Charlotte asked, voice flat, crossing her arms over her fluttering chest.
Michael went stiff with panic before saying, “It’s not important.”
Charlotte begged to differ. She arched an eyebrow, but Michael winced at her with such dread that she sighed and said, “Alright, alright.” She climbed out of bed, feigning indifference.
She tossed the covers back at Michael. “I know you have a whole past that you don’t want to talk about and it’s only natural that there are other women in that past. I don’t want to know.”
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, pulling the covers over his head.
The problem was, of course, that now she did want to know. She wanted to know very badly.
Want to find out more? Follow the links on the main page for Our Little Secrets to purchase the book on Amazon, B&N, iBooks, or Smashwords!