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His arm tightened to keep her close while his hand made slow strokes over the firm flesh along her waist and hip.
Quint had lived too close to the land for too many years for his mind not to wander to the rain, so crucial to all ranchers.
“I wonder how much we got,” he mused idly.
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p; “However much it was, it isn’t enough,” she replied, echoing his absent tone.
A smile burst across his face, and he rolled toward her, the movement shifting her head onto the pillow.
“Are you sure you’re talking about the rain?” he asked, a provocative amusement dancing in his eyes.
Her answering laugh was low and breathy. “That’s definitely a leading question.”
“I know.” Quint bent his head to nuzzle at the already kiss-swollen curves of her mouth.
Her hand came up, fingers brushing his jaw and tunneling into the thickness of his black hair. “I know I didn’t actually say the words before, Quint,” she murmured, their breaths mingling. “But I do love you.”
It was the note of regret in her voice that prompted Quint to tease her. “You almost sound sorry about that.”
Her head moved in denial. “I’m sorry about a lot of things, but loving you isn’t one of them…no matter what happens.”
“There you go—borrowing trouble again,” Quint said in light reproval. “Don’t we have troubles enough right now?”
She drew back from his kiss, a wariness in her expression. “Like what?”
“Like getting enough of you.”
A glow softened her whole face. It was a look that told Quint everything he needed to know. He covered her mouth in a long, drugging kiss that ignited more flames.
Quint made love to her again, but this time with all the finesse and tenderness that had been lacking in the first.
Quint forced his eyes open, not at all sure what had awakened him. Before he could identify it, his attention became riveted on the woman’s shape pressed spoon-fashion along his length, the round breast that his hand familiarly cupped, and the stray strands of hair tickling his chin.
From the hallway came the muffled sound of a door closing. Quint stole a glance at the alarm clock. With regret, he drew his hand away from her breast and levered himself onto an elbow.
Tempted by the bare curve of her shoulder, he nibbled lightly on it and murmured, “I hate to tell you this, but it’s morning. Time to wake up.”
There was a sleepy lift of her lashes, accompanied by a faint sound of protest. Then awareness sank in, and she shifted onto her back, one hand making an idle cruise up his arm, her mouth curving in a drowsy smile of remembrance and contentment.
“It can’t be morning already.” Her voice was husky and low, slurring a little with leftover sleepiness.
“I’m afraid it is,” Quint confirmed with reluctance.
Her smile faded and her gaze drifted down to his chest. “There’s something I need to tell you, Quint.”
“I think it’ll have to wait. Empty’s up and stirring about,” Quint explained. “In another few minutes he’ll discover the coffee isn’t made and check to see why you aren’t up.”
Alarm skittered through her expression, the look reinforced by the sound of water running in the bathroom. “I’ve got to get up.”
Lending impetus to her words, Dallas rolled away from him and scrambled out of bed. A scouring search quickly located her sleep shirt. She scooped it up and hurriedly pulled it over her head, but not before Quint had a chance to enjoy the unobstructed view of her.
She threw a last smiling and somewhat self-conscious look at him before crossing to the door. But any thought Dallas had of slipping into her bedroom unobserved vanished when she stepped into the hall and encountered her grandfather exiting the bathroom.
There was an instant narrowing of his eyes, first on her, then on the door to Quint’s room before they fastened on her. A certain grimness claimed his expression.
“That’s the way it is, is it?” It was more of an accusation than a question.
