Chase didn’t pick up on their old argument. He didn’t say a thing, but he wouldn’t let her look away from him.
Finally, she reached blindly for a sopapilla, bit the corner off, and ate it. He reached for the honey.
She grinned. “You better look at what you’re doing.”
“I am,” he said.
Every inch of her began to glow from the heat in his eyes. Dark and deep in the lamplight, his look went through her, powerful as the touch of his hand on her skin. The glow flared into fire when his hand folded around hers to help hold the sopapilla for the honey. She could feel every callus, every smooth place, every indentation of his warm, rough palm like a brand on the back of her hand.
How could he have such power over her?
“Chase, you’re gonna make such a mess….”
“Hush and don’t move.”
A big, sticky drop of honey hit her hand. Laughing, they both tried to feel where to pour it in.
“You’re getting it all over me.”
“What about me? It’s dripping on my leg.”
“Well, you’re the one doing it…uh-oh, too full. Stop, stop it, it’s dripping out the bottom…”
“Eat it fast. Here, I’ll help you…”
They gulped down the cinnamony, sugary pillow of dough as fast as they could, laughing the whole time because the honey went everywhere. Chase took the last bite.
“I never knew you could be so silly,” Elle said around her last mouthful.
He gave her a look. “And I never knew you could be so sweet.”
He brought her hand—stuck to his—to his mouth and began to lick the honey from it. His hot tongue was a flame on her palm.
“Chase…”
He leaned even closer. His eyes were burning her up. “You’ve got some there…on the edge of your mouth…” he said. “Elle.”
Her name on his lips, the simple sound of it in his low voice, melted her into him.
He took her mouth with his and she fell, helpless, into his kiss, one much hotter and deeper and more thorough and even more thrilling than the one in the elevator. Elle had only one thought—that first kiss wasn’t a fluke—and then her mind floated away. She had no need of it. She was all body now.
Chase pulled his sticky hand from hers and took her by the shoulder to draw her even closer, although she was kissing him back as hard as she could. Her tongue pushed even deeper into his mouth, teasing his, twining with it, then drawing away.
He groaned and moved his hand to her breast, which drew a gasp like a last breath from the depths of her soul. The next instant they were lying prone on the floor with him half on top of her, kissing like desperate, starving people. He slid his free hand into her hair to bring her nearer and she slapped her own sticky hand to the back of his neck to help. His mouth was a whole world of its own, hot and sweet and tasting of cinnamon and honey. And of Chase, the delicious taste of him that she couldn’t get enough of, and she wanted every bit of it now.
They ravaged each other’s mouths and started on their bodies, impatiently wiping honey onto shirts and pants before pushing the interfering cloth out of the way. Chase tore his mouth from hers to take her breast with it, the breast that his rough thumb was setting on fire, even through her shirt.
“No,” she gasped, “get it off…”
He peeled the stretchy tank top over her head and she felt a fleeting happiness that she wasn’t wearing a bra, then his tongue began to flick around her hard nipple and she rode a wave of sensation she’d never felt before. It shot all the way to the core of her. She saw colors on the backs of her eyelids.
She arched her back to rub against his hard groin.
Her mind flashed to life again, thoughts flickering like the glimpses of Chase when she opened her eyes, here and then gone when she sank into the feelings that filled her. She didn’t care if this was a good idea or not. She did have sexual feelings, that was what she needed to know. She was feeling this, actually liking this. Maybe she was normal, after all. Maybe she could be a real woman with a whole life.
But then all thought left her. Chase moved to the other breast and sent a new sensuality pulsing into her blood.
Then he was gone. Her eyes flared open and her arms reached to bring him back again. But he was on his knees, ripping off his own shirt, and she dropped her arms to her sides while she stared. Greedily.
He was gorgeous. Heavy-shouldered, broad-chested, muscled and scarred. She had to touch him. She had to feel him. He dropped the shirt and she grabbed it to wipe her hands, which made him grin, then she ran the flats of her hands up his arms, over his shoulders and down, slowly, slowly, into the hairy center of his chest where the sinews crossed under his skin.
His gaze was like molten chocolate in the glow of the lamp. It stayed on hers as if he’d never look away.
“I sure am glad you wiped the honey off your hands,” he drawled as she twined her fingers in the mat of hair.
She started tracing a path with one fingertip down the center of him to the waist of the baggy shorts and then underneath it.
“All right,” he murmured, and they laughed softly against each other’s lips when he bent down for another kiss.
It was a quick one that led to another on her throat, another farther down in the hollow of her neck, and one, just one, between her breasts. He kept dropping a trail of them, down and down, onto her abdomen, where he used his tongue as well. She felt the new, burgeoning thrill build into the pace of her pulse.
Chase lifted his head and she whimpered in protest, but he silenced her with another kiss on her mouth. And with his hand, sliding into the waist of her soft cotton pants, pushing them out of the way, caressing her abdomen more with his palm, working his way down and down until he was stroking the hot, wet center of her with his deliciously hard fingertips.
Then without warning, he stiffened and took his mouth away, lifted his head against the pull of her hands.
“Nooo,” she murmured, trying to pull him back to her.
He whispered, “Where’s your buddy, Missy Jo?”
She heard it then, a woman’s voice right outside the door. Saying, “Aussie!”
Elle hissed, “She’s supposed to be with Rodney! At his camper! Damn it.”
Then, “Oh, no! Is he with her?”
She reached for her shirt, every nerve strumming enough to make her hands shake.
“Aussie, leave that alone.”
The latch clicked and the door swung open. Missy Jo dashed in, watching Aussie running behind her. Elle had her head and one arm through the right holes in her sleeveless top when M.J. looked around…and down…and saw her and Chase.
The shock on her face was priceless. The delight that followed it was too terrible to watch. Elle knew she’d never stop saying, “I told you so.”
THE NEXT DAY, CHASE walked up to his buddy Travis Logs-don’s trailer where he’d left the rest of his gear. Trav, a team roper, was just saddling up to go practice.
“Sounds like you done good,” he said to Chase. “I heard ’em announce your score.”
“Yep,” Chase said, trying to dig his enthusiasm out of its hiding place, “I finally got past ol’ Crawdaddy.”
“Cowboy Stampede Poker Game,” Travis said.
Chase