Page 1 of Their Wanted Bride (Bridgewater Brides 1)

Prologue

CALEB

* * *

“I suppose it’s time for me to choose who I’m about to marry.” Maddy pulled a shiny silver dollar from her pocket and tossed it, then caught it out of the air. “Call it.”

“Heads,” my best friend Justin said.

She opened her hand, revealing the tail side of her coin, then set it gently on the table. “That means you’ll do the honors, Caleb. I suppose we ought to find the preacher before it gets too late. Thankfully, I won’t need a ring.”

“Why not?” I asked. “Most ladies want to tell the world they’re married.”

“They get caught on things. It’s a good way to lose a finger. Aside from that, I’m not seeing either of you wearing one.”

Infernal woman. My cock ached when I thought about taming that sass. I caught her arm and spun her to face me. “You’re going to wear a wedding ring, Maddy. You can take it off for working, but I’m going to tan your backside if I catch you without it when you aren’t.”

Her pretty eyes widened in surprise, and I had to hold myself back from kissing that sweet mouth.

“Why do you care?”

Thank goodness we’d had the foresight to request a private dining room in the hotel restaurant. Pushing her against the wall, I cupped her cheeks and crushed my lips to hers. She tasted just as sweet as I thought she would. The scent of her lemon soap swirled around me, making me growl as I sucked her lower lip into my mouth. Maybe I ought not be kissing a woman not yet my wife, but it was the only thing I could think to do to quiet her.

She stiffened and tried to wriggle free, but as I nipped her lip and stroked away the sting, she relaxed against me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. Whimpering softly, she stood on her toes and pushed a hand into my hair, her slim fingers tugging my head lower.

Biting back a disappointed groan, I pulled away, soothing her with one last brush of my mouth over hers as I passed her to Justin. Taller than me by more than a few inches, he remedied the height disparity between him and Maddy by picking her up off her feet, making her straddle his thigh.

His large hands cradled her backside as he kissed her thoroughly enough to make her whimper. I liked hearing that sound, and I especially liked seeing her wrap a slender calf around Justin’s hip. Her skirt rode up, revealing a swath of pale skin and a trim ankle encased in a battered leather boot.

Leaning close, I nipped the shell of her ear, then whispered, “Ride him, Maddy. Let Justin make you feel good.”

Reaching between them, I opened her bodice, loosening the buttons one at a time until her pretty bosom was revealed to us. Pert and a generous handful, her rosy pink nipples beckoned me to taste. My mouth watered, but I held back so I’d have something to look forward to on our wedding night.

Neither of us would claim her until after we went before a preacher and bound her to us. That didn’t mean we couldn’t give her pleasure beforehand.

Justin backed up a step, pulling her away from the wall. “Get behind her,” he muttered.

I took my position facing Maddy’s back and snaked my hands around to cup her breasts. When I traced my thumbs around those sweet pink morsels, she arched and tossed her head, crying out as her nipples furled into tightened buds. Rolling them between my fingers, I kissed the tender skin under her ear as her hips bucked against Justin’s thigh.

He grabbed her skirt, pushing it to her waist to reveal her pretty cunny framed by white eyelet drawers. Her russet curls were damp with arousal and I gritted my teeth, wanting nothing more than to claim her. Justin was having every bit as much trouble controlling himself as I was.

Banding my arm around her waist, I held her still and jerked my chin at him, giving tacit permission to touch her. I didn’t think I had enough control left to make sure I didn’t go too far.

He traced a gentle finger down her belly and kissed her, swallowing her cries. When he reached her pussy, she spasmed against him.

“Please,” she whined. “I need—”

“We know, darling,” Justin murmured. He reached under her skirts and her eyes flew open as she let out a soft squeal of delight. He must have found the little bundle of nerves at the apex of her sex. Fuck, she was a passionate little thing.

“Come for us, Maddy,” I ordered. “Let us see you take your pleasure from us.”

Jerking hard, she exploded with a soft scream, her chest and face turning red with exertion. I swiped a finger down her bare thigh. Just as I thought…wet. Copious moisture slicked her soft skin. I was desperate for a taste.

After licking my finger clean of her spend—sweet and tangy just like her—I kissed her damp forehead as I put her bodice to rights. “That’s just a sample of the pleasure we can give you.”

Justin smoothed her hair, tousled from our loving, then tucked a wayward curl behind one ear. Touching her chin, he brushed a soft kiss over her trembling lips.

Struggling to open eyes glazed with what was probably her first bout of passion, she let out a soft sigh of repletion. “Heavens, it must be a sin for a body to feel so good.”

Fuck, it had been her first orgasm. She’d

get more from us. And soon.

Justin set her on her feet, wrapping an arm around her to help her keep her balance. Turning to the side, he adjusted himself in his trousers, wincing as he cupped his swollen cock. He was probably in the same agony I was currently suffering.

I did some adjusting of my own, then said, “I reckon we better find that preacher, Miss Madelaine. Won’t do our reputations any good to be caught kissing a woman who isn’t our wife.”

Her eyes closed sleepily as she touched her swollen lips. “It’s Maddy. My husbands should call me Maddy.”

1

JUSTIN

* * *

Two months earlier…

* * *

“One more stop, then we’ll head back to the ranch,” Caleb, my best friend, said, striding purposely toward the mercantile. His blond hair gleamed gold in the late February sunlight. Tall, with a muscular frame, he walked as if he owned the world.

My folks worked his family’s farm, and we’d been inseparable since we were barely out of swaddling. There were days when I missed that old homestead in northeastern Ohio, but Caleb had his eye on moving west for as long as I could remember.

Not all Caleb’s ideas were good ones. He’d gotten us into more trouble than any two little boys ought to be allowed, but he always took the blame. I guess our respective parents figured I didn’t have the imagination for mischief. I had plenty of imagination, but my mama threw a mean switch. Smiling at the memory, I followed him inside.

What with the train making a stop in town, real businesses had cropped up, including a small hotel with a good restaurant, a mercantile, and even a postmistress down the street from the saloon. Bridgewater was a right nice place to be, especially for me, the son of an escaped slave and an abolitionist. The townsfolk didn’t give a whit about the color of a man’s skin. Their needs were simple and straightforward. They provided for their women and would stop at nothing to care for them.

It was odd at first. I’d always believed marriage was supposed to be between one man and one woman, yet the men of Bridgewater decided that wasn’t good enough. To them, two men were needed to satisfy a woman’s every need in bed and out. To provide for her and protect her, slake her darkest desires…

Shifting my feet, I attempted to control my thickening shaft at the mere idea of taking a wife for our own. I couldn’t fault their reasoning. If a woman’s husband died, there would be another to keep her safe and provide a stable home for her and her children.

It was one thing to share a soiled dove. We’d done that many times, and left our partners blissfully sated. I couldn’t stop daydreaming about embracing the custom brought to Montana from Mohamir by English soldiers who wanted to find a new home in America. Someday, Caleb and I would find our own bride. We’d use one of the carved wooden toys to prepare her back passage, making her ready for both of us, and she’d blossom like a flower under our touch.

Letting out a breath, I got my head out of the clouds and focused on what we were doing. “What do we need? Far as I know, we have plenty of beans, flour, and coffee.”

“You’ll see.” A wicked smile crossed his face and he bellied up to the counter.

“Good morning, boys,” Mr. Rutherford, the shopkeeper, said. His partner, Mr. Thompson nodded, and returned to arranging shelves. Their wife, Laurann, a pretty lady with dimples and curly blonde hair, smiled at us from her spot behind the till. “What can we do for you?”

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