MacKenzie-Blackthorn 2: Fire and Rain by Elizabeth Lowell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell [Lowell, Elizabeth]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance
Publisher: Silhouette Desire
Published: 2011-10-20T00:13:57+00:00

~ 10 ~

The kitchen door snapped shut behind Ten, leaving Carla and Luke alone in the taut silence. Silently she watched while Luke went to the sink, rolled up his sleeves and began washing up. He rinsed dust off his face, soaped all the way up his muscular forearms to his elbows and used a nailbrush on his hands. That was one of the things Carla had always noticed about Luke; no matter how hard he had worked or how tired he was, he always came to her table with clean hands.

And such handsome hands they were, almost elegant despite their large size. Long, lean fingers and neatly trimmed nails. A hand deft enough to pick a tiny flower without bruising it and strong enough to lift a saddle one-handed and lower it onto a cow pony's back. Luke's hands fascinated her. Warm, hard, capable of trembling with desire and yet still touching her with restraint, sensitive enough to measure and savor all the textures of her breasts, caressing her nipples from softness to velvet pebbles.

"Did I miss some dirt?"

Carla's head snapped up to meet Luke's eyes. "What?"

"You were staring at my hands."

"I…" Carla's voice died. She closed her eyes, unable to bear the exquisite torture of looking at Luke's hands any longer and remembering how it had felt to be touched by him, if only for a few moments. "I'll see if your dinner is still warm."

"You mean the wolves left some scraps for me?"

"I stood over the stew with a shotgun."

He smiled. "Did you eat?"

"A little."

He hesitated, then said slowly, as though against his better judgment, "Keep me company and I'll help you finish off the dishes."

"Sold," Carla said instantly. Her blue-green eyes appreciated Luke's smile and noted the signs of a long day's work in his face. "But you don't have to do my job, too. You look like you've been working so hard that you're too tired to sleep properly."

Luke's eyes narrowed. He wondered if Carla had heard him prowling the kitchen for the past three nights. When he was awake he could banish the memory of her body pressed to his, but when he slept, it was different. In his dreams he sat half-clothed in the dining room and she came to him, laughter and sunshine and sensual heat that bathed him in passion until he cried out; and then he awakened alone, sweating, his breath a tearing sound in the darkness.

"Sit down," Carla said. "I'll bring dinner to you. You must be starved."

Luke barely kept himself from saying he would rather have Carla than any dinner on earth; and he would rather have her in the dining room, sitting astride his lap, her head thrown back, her nipples taut and glistening from his mouth, her body sheathing him, bringing him relief from the torment of wanting her.

"Whatever you give me always tastes good," Luke said finally, trying not to watch Carla's mouth too hungrily.

The look in his golden eyes made her breath catch. A delicate, invisible shiver went from her breastbone to the pit of her stomach.

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