SA 03 - Lover in the Rough - Elizabeth Lowell by Elizabeth Lowell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell
Language: bg
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-07T19:51:49+00:00

Seven

Reba sat up, her heart pounding wildly. All around her was night, not even a pale shimmer of moon to outline the ridge-lines. A billion stars blazed coldly overhead, emphasizing rather than lighting the darkness. She shivered, wondering what had awakened her.

“Go back to sleep, chaton,” said a deep voice from beside her. “There’s nothing to worry about. It was just a twitch of the dragon’s tail.”

“What?” she said. Then, “Oh. An earthquake.”

She sensed Chance’s smile in his voice. “Yes. A few more fractures in the tourmaline buried beneath us.”

With a yawn, she lay down again. He reached out, pulling her into the curve of his body. Last night he had zipped their two sleeping bags together, over her protests. Now she was glad for the intimate nest. She put her head on his shoulder, her arm across his chest, and felt very safe. She yawned again.

He laughed softly and nuzzled her hair.

“What’s so funny?” she asked sleepily.

“You. Only someone from Los Angeles would be frightened by a deer and yawn at an earthquake.”

“It was just a tiny shaker,” she murmured sleepily.

“The deer wasn’t very big, either.”

Reba fell asleep before she thought of a suitable answer. She stirred restlessly during the minute aftershocks of the earthquake, but she didn’t wake again until dawn.

The first thing she was aware of as she drifted slowly up from the depths of sleep was Chance’s warmth, his hands moving over her, bringing a pleasure that made her body melt in liquid waves. His mouth caressed her from her temple to her navel, a sliding heat that sealed the breath in her throat. Half awake, half asleep, wholly vulnerable to his touch, she could only twist languidly, helplessly, consumed by her Tiger God.

When he finally came to her, she was crying his name, suspended in a sweet agony that only he could end. He moved slowly, powerfully, claiming her more deeply with each wave of pleasure that shook her until she came apart, giving herself to him without reservation. Only then did he succumb to her softness and heat, the siren call of ecstasy deep within her.

For a long time afterward, Chance simply held Reba, caressing her with gentle lips and hands. She lay without speaking, holding onto his solid warmth, slowly becoming aware of her own identity again. She knew she had been taken without warning, without even the smallest opportunity to say no. He hadn’t given her a chance, but in the aftermath of sharing such extraordinary pleasure, she couldn’t be angry with him.

“Forgive me,” he whispered against her cheek. “I had to know if I had driven you away last night. I had to know that from the core of you, not from whatever civilized expectations have been pasted on you by people who don’t know better or don’t care. Now I know. No matter what is said or isn’t said, you want me as deeply as I want you.”

Reba wondered if love could be one of the “civilized expectations” Chance was referring to.

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