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His touch was more real than mountain rain, better than expensive chocolate… better than the first bloom of her great grandmother’s peace rose.
“The kettle,” she murmured, dropping her head back as he kissed his way down her neck to the eyelet trim lining the square neck of the gown.
“Hmm?” he murmured against her skin.
“Kettle.”
He released her. “Go turn it off but come back. I want to taste you some more.”
She’d never moved so fast. When she returned, she plopped right down in his lap and drew his head to her, seeking his lips. For several seconds, she reveled in the fuel spilling into her belly, revving her, making her forget every admonition about leaving Lucas Finlay alone. When she broke the kiss, it was only to drop her head back so he could slide his lips down her throat.
She groaned as he met her unstated request.
“Ah, that’s a girl,” he groaned, resuming his work at the sensitive base of her throat as his hands moved to cup her bottom before alternating with caressing her back and thighs.
Her answer was to rub against him with a delicious friction that made the ache between her legs painful. This was exactly what she needed. She wasn’t sure if a pack of wild horses storming the kitchen could stop what was happening.
Okay, yes, wild horse could likely stop it.
But she didn’t foresee a herd of mustangs breaking into her kitchen. Maybe Aunt Flora, but not horses.
Aunt Flora.
She stiffened beneath the heat of his mouth on her shoulder. “We have to stop.”
“Shh,” he said, nipping her collarbone. “Just gimme a few more seconds of you. After all I have to join Mittens, the meanest cat this side of the Mississippi, in bed.”
She grinned at the image of Lucas sleeping with that mean calico. “I could make an inappropriate innuendo.”
He chuckled and pressed his head against her breast, wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her against him.
Passion still throbbed, but he seemed to understand that it was neither the time nor the place for anything more.
Neither of them said anything, just sat pressed contentedly into the other, Addy’s gown rucked up, Lucas’s heart racing. Finally she pulled back, pushing her hair from her eyes. “Your tea’s probably cold.”
“Again, I didn’t come for the tea,” he said, his dark eyes moving over her face.
Addy realized she straddled him so she shimmied from his lap. “I can’t believe I just mounted you like a sex-starved spinster.”
“Spinster? What is this? The 1900s?” He winked at her. “And I was about to say I could come over for tea every night.”
Addy slid her hand over her warm face. “Well, if I start offering tea like that every night, I’m going to have problems.”
“I bet you’re a good problem solver,” he said, his teeth flashing in the moonlight.
“You’re a flirt.”
He stood. “Nope. I’m a mean rancher.”
He made her feel like it was normal to climb a man every time she invited him to tea. “You look mean, but you’re really a sweetheart.”
“No way,” he joked, drawing her back into the circle of his arms. “I’m nasty. I smack around kids and trip old ladies crossing the street.”
“I saw you scoop an inch worm off the steps and put him on a bush so he wouldn’t get squished by small feet,” she murmured, looking up into his face. “You’re a hoax of a mean man.”
Lucas dropped a kiss on her nose. “When I have time, I’m going to show you what kind of man I am. But tonight I have three children I need to get back to.”
Addy shook her gown so it covered her legs and took satisfaction that he had to adjust himself within the pajama pants. “This was a weird moment. I don’t know if we’ll have time to…”
