With the sun sliding down the other side of the mountain, Adler’s truck came to a stop in front of an isolated ranch house. Across the small clearing, shadows gathered around a two-story barn. No animal sounds filtered through Sage’s open window, just the smell of wildflowers carried by a light breeze.

“This is Sarah’s house?” Sage murmured, her gaze dancing back from the barn to the home where Corryn Turk had brought his mail-order suffragette bride. “No one told me it was still standing!”

Reaching across the center console, Adler stroked a finger against the bare curve of her neck. At his request, she had kept the blond hair in the updo she wore at the wedding. He had caressed that spot of exposed skin so many times during the reception, she felt permanently marked—in a good way.

Branded by my cowboy, she thought, a grin erupting. My cowboy husband!

Adler slid his hand down to unhook her seatbelt.

“Except for the bunkhouse, everything they built is still standing.”

Hearing the thick emotion in his voice, Sage turned to him. The drive from the reception hall had lasted fifty minutes, most of it on dirt road, the console between them hindering anything more than holding hands.

But even that limited contact had been heaven, holding her husband’s hand, feeling the play of his fingers against hers.

Leaning over, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

“Our great-great-great grandchildren will be saying the same thing one hundred and thirty years from now.”

She kissed him, both of them taking their time in a slow exchange of bites and licks that drifted from lips to jaw to ear and back again. When her body began to shake with the effort of staying suspended over the console, Adler wrapped his strong, capable hands around the sides of her torso, holding her up until the need to do more than just kiss had them both groaning.

“Stay here,” he rasped, setting Sage down on her side of the cab.

He pulled the keys from the ignition, jumped out of the truck and hopped up onto the house’s porch. A few seconds later, the door was open and the lights turned on inside. Coming around to Sage’s side of the truck, he opened her door.

She slid one foot onto the side rail. After the ceremony, she had changed into a sleeveless dress of dark red satin that reached just below her knees, pairing it with red leather boots, a lace pattern embroidered on them in white.

Tweaking the toe of Sage’s boot, Adler grinned. “I can’t wait to see you walking around a Maui beach in just these and a bathing suit.”

She blushed, her cheeks for one flashing instant matching her crimson dress.

Sage slid her other boot onto the side rail then cocked a brow at her husband.

“How am I supposed to get down with a big cowboy blocking my way?”

Adler made a short, but serious study of the problem, his bottom lip caught between his teeth the whole time.

“Well, if you put these here” he started, grabbing her hands and curving them around the back of his neck. “And I put mine here.”

He circled her waist and coaxed her into standing on the rail.

“And you lean a little closer, but real, real slow,” he added, his gaze caressing her exposed shoulders.

“Like this?”

“Yeah,” he grinned before thinning his lips into something less leering.

Dropping one arm behind Sage’s knees as the other ran diagonally behind her back, Adler scooped her up into his arms. Taking a step away from the truck, he balanced on one foot and used the other to push the door shut.

He carried her up the steps and onto the porch. If there were any squeaky boards, they held their peace.

“Oh,” she whispered, as they crossed the threshold and she got her first look at the inside.

There wasn’t a speck of drywall in sight. The floors, walls, and ceiling were a glossy pine aged to a deep gold tone. The furniture in the living room was thickly cushioned leather, the deep chocolate of the material offset by brightly colored lap blankets and throw pillows.

Adler carried her over to the hearth where a fresh log waited ready to light in the fireplace.

“Do I smell strawberries?”

“Maybe,” he teased. “Siobhan and Maureen came out bright and early this morning to make sure everything was presentable and bring us a few snacks to survive the night.”

Seeing the suggestive twinkle in her husband’s dark gaze, a warm flush embraced Sage from head to toe.

“Why don’t I get the fire going and you see what they brought.”

Head bobbing, Sage followed in the direction he pointed and found herself in a kitchen that hadn’t changed much in the last hundred plus years except for the lighting and a refrigerator humming quietly against one wall. A cast iron, wood stove stood ready to cook anything a couple or a family might need. A copper sink gleamed at her from a wooden counter cut from a single tree and placed all in one piece. While there were regular faucets that delivered hot water, a heavy brass water pump served as a reminder that the homestead had been carved from the land in a time when nothing was done the easy way.

“Where is the electricity coming from?” she asked, popping her head around the corner.

Adler inclined his head toward the front door. “Solar panels behind the barn. Power supply lines are buried from there to here.”

Returning to the kitchen, Sage noted the strawberries waiting in a porcelain bowl. Opening the refrigerator, she found a tray of various meats and cheeses with two rings of blueberries.

And chilled champagne resting next to two glasses.

“We’re set for more than one night,” she announced, bringing the food tray out and placing it on the coffee table.

With the fire slowly warming the room, Adler stood, pulled Sage to him and planted a sweet but fleeting kiss on her cheek.

“Is that all I get?” she teased.

He tapped her bottom once in warning then bit lightly at her earlobe. “You’ll be pleading for a break long before morning, but first I’m going to fetch your bags.”

“No swimsuit until Maui!” she laughed as he stepped off the porch.

They had tickets for an early evening flight out of Billings to San Francisco, with a few hours’ wait for their connecting flight to Hawaii. Brunch with the family was scheduled before they left.

All the time between then and the bon voyage meal would be just the two of them in Sarah and Corryn’s house.

She ran her hand along the fireplace mantle then returned to the open doorway separating the kitchen from the living room. She scanned the frame, looking for the telltale signs that children had been living in the home. Little notches, a pencil mark.

“Here,” Adler said, returning with the luggage and surmising what Sage was doing. Going into the kitchen, he opened the double doors to the pantry cupboard.

“Their first child,” he said, pointing at a boy’s name carved into the wooden door. The last year entered for the name was 1902 and he was nearly to the top of the door. “He would have been seventeen then.”

“So the Turks have always grown them tall,” Sage joked.

He touched his fingertips to his forehead like he was tipping his hat to her.

“Yes, ma’am, we do.”

She followed the names from the inside of one door to the next. Adler’s father and uncle were there. So were Adler and his siblings.

“Here’s where Leah starts,” he said, his voice thickening as he bent down. There was just one mark placed maybe an inch and a half below the toddler’s current height. “Dawn brought her here as soon as Leah could stand long enough on her own to take the measurement. She would have brought her out on her birthday and every year after.”

Straightening, Sage wrapped her arms around him, face tilted up to stare into his beautiful eyes. She brushed a finger across his cheek, releasing the tension that had appeared at the memory of his sister.

“We’ll bring Leah out when we get back—the whole family. And one day, there’ll be another line started.”

Adler lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed each of its fingers in turn.

“We’ll need to add in another cupboard if you were serious about having five.”

Sage blushed, her eyelids closing to half-mast as fresh need shot through her body, baking her bones until they felt brittle.

“Not yet,” he teased, nibbling at her ear. “We have a toast to make. You go sit that lovely bottom on the couch while I get the champagne and glasses.”

Sage obeyed. There was time to toast before tending to other matters a husband and wife might address on their honeymoon. There was all the time in the world.

Adler returned and placed the champagne and glasses on the table. He signaled for a little more patience then tended to the log on the fire. When he had it blazing once more, he closed the grate and sat next to Sage on the couch.

He worked the cork loose. It flew halfway across the living room before bouncing off a lampshade. He filled her glass, handed it to her, then filled his.

“Scoot a little closer, baby.”

Once again, she obeyed, a smile on her face.

Adler leaned in, his lips whispering across hers, the sensation so soft but electric it stole her breath.

Nuzzling her ear, he raised his glass.

“What shall we toast, love?”

For Sage, sitting next to the man she loved in a house that had nourished generation after generation, answering that question was the simplest thing in the world.

“A toast,” she said, “to more marks on the pantry door.”

They each took a sip. Putting his glass down, Adler sucked his bottom lip in, the dark gaze dancing with firelight. He cocked a brow, voice purring with a fresh challenge.

“You know how that works, right?”

Head bobbing, she stopped and threw him a wink. “Practice. Lots of practice.”

Adler purred a little louder. Closing her eyes, Sage clutched at the top of the couch, dizzy with anticipation after weeks of his gentle denial.

Once Adler put the engagement ring on her finger, he turned traditionalist. Not completely traditionalist, but very nearly so.

Frustratingly so.

Heavy petting was indulged, but the clothes stayed on and the buttons and zippers remained fastened, leaving Sage with the biggest case of the female version of blue balls in the history of womankind.

Lifting his glass, Adler drained the rest of his drink in two swallows. Sage followed suit. Adler slid closer. His hands came up, just the index fingers extended. He used them to trace the collar of her dress, his trimmed nails lightly scratching at her feverish skin. From the collar, he moved up to the wide shoulder straps. He leaned in, tracing his way to the zipper pull.

His nose caressed the side of Sage’s neck as he unzipped her with an aching slowness. She pressed her palms against the top of her thighs, hands and legs vibrating with need.

The zipper ended near the small of her back. His fingers slid from the dress to her spine on a leisurely return trip to her shoulders. Each millimeter traveled upward was marked with a kiss or bite along Sage’s neck or jaw.

She eased her hands off her lap and toward Adler’s. He stopped her with a warning click at the back of his throat. She exhaled the moan bottled up in her throat then nipped at his ear as retribution.

Adler’s prolonged teasing after weeks of holding back had her on the verge of climax. Her entire body quivered with the need to explode. He cupped Sage’s shoulders and stared into her eyes until she stopped shaking.

“Better?”

She nodded.

“Good.” He caressed up along her neck and along her hair to find the first pin securing the updo in place.

There were four pins to keep it tidy and one larger pin that held the twist in place. He drew the larger pin out last, his gaze surfing the contours of her face until the hair began its slow cascade onto her shoulders and he tracked its fall.

“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands smoothing down to the shoulder straps then across the bodice, where he offered each pointed nipple a slow scrape.

Wondering at the source of his self-control when she was ready to dissolve into a pool of hot need, Sage ravaged her bottom lip. Gripping Sage’s chin, Adler stopped her with a rasp.

“Stand up.”

She snorted, tried to stand, dropped back down. He had her weak-kneed and trembling. Favoring her with a smile, Adler stood and held out his hands. She took them, pushed as he lifted. When she was on her feet, he sank back onto the couch and stared.

“Pull the bodice down.”

Her eyes rolled up in her head but she managed to slide her arms out and fold the top half of the gown down to expose her torso, her breasts hiding behind white satin.

Adler re-filled Sage’s glass with champagne and handed it to her.

“Sip. Don’t spill,” he warned. “Spill so much as a drop and I’ll fill it back to the top. Do more than sip and I’ll fill it back to the top.”

“Sadist,” she accused, her tone tortured with desire for her husband.

“Sip,” he repeated.

When she obeyed, he wrapped his hands around the fabric folded at her waist and slowly peeled the dress down her legs. She stepped out, the bra, panties and red leather boots her only cover.

“Sip,” he said.

This time, she didn’t hesitate. A sip, a boot, another sip, the other boot.

The only thing wrong was that his beautiful body was still fully clothed while she was about to soak threw her panties.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered.

She exhaled, her breath so hot she swore she saw steam.

With Sage’s legs spread, Adler ordered another sip. Hand shaking badly, she somehow obeyed without spilling any.

Her reward was a slow trace with one finger of the lace along her panties before the finger disappeared beneath the fabric to stroke lightly at her clit. Pushing forward onto the balls of her feet, Sage tried to increase the pressure to the swollen bud, but Adler denied her.

“Sip.”

She growled, fresh cream pushing thickly from her core at his disciplined command. She growled—and then she took the sip.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his finger taking a final stroke down her clit then delving deeper between the slick folds to reach the mouth of her pussy.

The tip slid in to massage just the opening, her interior muscles coiling and squeezing to capture and draw the finger deeper.

“Sip.”

Ever so slowly, her entire arm trembling, she brought the glass of champagne to her lips and carefully drew no more than a sip.

In went a second finger. Her hips bucked, her eyes dazed and locked not on her husband but the glass.

Adler chuckled.

She glared down at him.

“Love, this is torture for me, too.”

She shook her head, refuting him. She wanted to throw herself at Adler, yank his zipper down, hold him in her hands for one sweet second then sink onto his thick shaft. But he wouldn’t let her.

Midnight eyes grinning at Sage, Adler wrapped his hands around the side panels of her panties and slid onto his knees. He planted a kiss on the curve of her stomach then looked up.

“Sip.”

A pout formed. The glass vibrated against her lips. Her thighs clenched with the need to have his fingers back in her.

“Sip,” he repeated when she failed to take a drink.

She opened her mouth wide, prepared to gulp, and caught herself at the last second.

“Good.”

Adler stripped the panties away and pushed Sage’s legs apart once more after she stepped out of the underwear. One hand gripped her hip, the other returned to teasing her pussy.

“Sip.”

The flow of honey from her body thick and constant from his teasing, Sage moaned and obeyed.

Adler slid three fingers inside her quivering hole as his mouth formed a seal around her clit. One hand maintaining a stranglehold on the glass of champagne, Sage curled the other around the top of his head, urging him to continue.

Her hips began to rock, her body rolling onto the balls of her feet then onto her heels, her pussy squeezing at the thick fingers, milking the hard triangle that pushed and tugged, twisted and flexed.

Clit aching with a need that brought tears to her eyes, Sage ground against Adler’s fingers. Her nails dug at his scalp as champagne splashed against her wrist. Together they moved. His lips, her hips. His tongue, her clit. His fingers, her greedy pussy.

Rolling.

Grinding.

Gasping.

Sage froze, only her throat convulsing and her lips parting in a cry. Her throat and the sheath curled tight around Adler’s fingers. The cry long and thin and marked by tears of release.

Sage’s legs gave out. Adler caught her, put the glass down and scooped her up into his arms. His long legs carried them quickly to the master bedroom, the linen turned down in anticipation of their arrival.

Placing Sage on the bed, he got on his knees again, teeth and tongue licking at the cream that continued to pulse from her as he stripped his clothes away. She fumbled her bra off and tossed it on the floor.

Her hands clutched at the bedding as she fought for some small shred of control.

Standing, Adler grabbed along the underside of Sage’s thighs and pulled her to the edge of the mattress. She looked across the curve of her stomach to see his cock out, swollen from all the teasing, its rhythmic bob squeezing out thick pearls of pre-cum.

A fresh wave of climax slammed through Sage just looking at the thick shaft and fat, dripping head. Her clit danced with the same throbbing pulse. She bit hard at her bottom lip, begging him with her eyes to enter her at last.

Adler released a long, slow breath then positioned the crown against the gate of her sex. Thighs and hips flexing, Sage surged toward him, the muscles of her pussy opening to mouth and suck him inside her.

Eyes shuttered, his lips a thin line, Adler shook his head, kept control, and slowly pushed forward, stretching Sage with the fat crown. A relaxing victory unfolded within her. Control shifted. She tightened the muscles of her lower torso, her grip on his shaft unassailable.

Deeper she pulled him in, milking him closer. Groaning, Adler slammed one palm on the mattress, his face a broken grimace, his breathing harsh and hurried. She drew him deeper still, her body coiling vines, tugging, rolling. Her ass started to bounce along the bed. A rolling of up, down, up, down.

He was reduced to moans and soft murmurings. They both were.

Fuck

Love

There

Yes, there

Deeper

There, deeper

Then silence and perfection as they came, straining against one another, blue gaze locked on green, lips quivering with the words suspended in the air around them.