She felt his lips brush hers, soft, lovely. The kind of touch that shouldn’t have kindled a fire in the blood. Yet her blood heated. He turned her, just enough so that their bodies met, tipped her head back just enough so that the kiss would deepen.
Some sound, distress or pleasure, hummed in her throat before her fisted hands went limp.
Hers was a mouth to savor, he realized. Full, generous, yielding. A man shouldn’t hurry a mouth such as this. He scraped his teeth lightly over her bottom lip and thrilled to the low, helpless purr that answered him. Slowly, watching her eyes glaze and close, he traced her lips with his tongue, dipped inside.
So many subtle flavors.
It was wonderful, the way he could feel her skin warm, her bones soften, her heart pound. Or maybe it was his heart. Something was roaring in his head, throbbing in his blood. It wasn’t until greed began to grow, with the crafty violence that mated with it, that he drew back.
She was trembling, and instinct warned him that if he let himself go, he’d hurt them both. “That was better than I imagined it would be,” he managed. “And I’ve got a hell of an imagination.”
Staggered, she braced a hand on the counter. Her knees were shaking. Only fear of mortification kept her voice from shaking as well. “Is this how you always behave when you come out of your cave?”
“I’m not always lucky enough to have a beautiful woman handy.” He tilted his head, studying her. The pulse in her throat was still jumping, and her skin was still flushed. But, unless he was off the mark, she was already rebuilding that thin, defensive wall. “That wasn’t ordinary. There isn’t any point in pretending it was.”
“I’m not ordinarily kissed by a guest while I’m making bread. I wouldn’t know what’s ordinary for you, would I?” His eyes changed, darkening with a hint of temper. When he stepped forward, she stepped back. “Please, don’t.”
Now those dark eyes narrowed. “Be more specific.”
“I have to finish this. The dough needs to rise again.”
“You’re evading, Brianna.”
“All right, don’t kiss me like that again.” She let out a choppy breath, drew another in. “I don’t have the right defenses.”
“It doesn’t have to be a battle. I’d like to take you to bed, Brianna.”
To occupy her nervous hands, she snatched up a towel and rubbed at the dough clinging to her fingers. “Well, that’s blunt.”
“It’s honest. If you’re not interested, just say so.”
“I don’t take things as casually as you, with a yes or a no, and no harm done.” Fighting for calm, she folded the towel neatly, set it aside. “And I’ve no experience in such matters.”
Damn her for being cool when his blood was raging. “What matters?”
“The one you’re speaking of. Now move aside, so I can get back to my bread.”
He simply took her arm and stared into her eyes. A virgin? he wondered, letting the idea circle around and take root. A woman who looked like this, who responded like this?
“Is something wrong with the men around here?” He said it lightly, hoping to cut some of the tension. But the result was a flash of pain in her eyes that made him feel like a slug.
“It’s my business, isn’t it, how I live my life?” Her voice had chilled. “Now, I’ve respected your wishes and your work these past days. Would you do me the same and let me get on with mine?”
“All right.” He let her go, stepped back. “I’m going out for a while.
Do you want me to pick up anything for you?”
“No, thank you.” She plunged her hands into the dough again and began to knead. “It’s raining a bit,” she said evenly. “You might want a jacket.”
He walked to the doorway, turned back. “Brianna.” He waited until she’d lifted her head. “You never said whether or not you were interested. I’ll have to assume you’re thinking about it.”
He strode out. She didn’t let out her next breath until she heard the door close behind him.
Gray worked off excess energy with a long drive and a visit to the Cliffs of Moher. To give them both time to settle, he stopped in for lunch at a pub in Ennis. He walked off a heavy dose of fish and chips by wandering along the narrow streets. Something in a shop window caught his eyes, and following impulse he stepped inside and had it boxed.
By the time he returned to Blackthorn, he’d nearly convinced himself that what he’d experienced in the kitchen with Brianna was more a result of his joy over his work than chemistry.
Still, when he stepped into his room and found her kneeling on the edge of his bathroom floor, a bucket beside her and a rag in her hand, the scales tipped the other way. If a man wasn’t dazzled with sex, why else would such a picture make his blood pump?
“Do you have any idea how often I come across you in that position?”
She looked over her shoulder. “It’s an honest living.” She blew her hair back. “I’ll tell you this, Grayson Thane, you live like a pig when you’re working.”
He cocked a brow. “Is that the way you talk to all your guests?”
He had her there. She flushed a little and slapped her rag back on the floor. “I’ll be done here soon if you’ve a mind to get back to it. I’ve another guest coming in this evening.”
“Tonight?” He scowled at the back of her head. He liked having the place to himself. Having her to himself. “Who?”
“A British gentleman. He called shortly after you left this morning.”
“Well, who is he? How long’s he staying?” And what the hell did he want?
“A night or two,” she said easily. “I don’t interrogate my guests, as you should know.”
“It just seems to me that you should ask questions. You can’t just let strangers waltz into your home.”
Amused, she sat back and shook her head at him. A combination of the scruffy and elegant, she thought, with his gold-tipped hair pulled back pirate-like, those lovely eyes of his sulky, the pricey boots, worn jeans, and crisp shirt. “That’s exactly what I do. I believe you waltzed in yourself, in the dead of night, not so long ago.”
“That’s different.” At her bland look, he shrugged. “It just is. Look, would you get up and stop that? You could eat off the damn floor.”
Some sound, distress or pleasure, hummed in her throat before her fisted hands went limp.
Hers was a mouth to savor, he realized. Full, generous, yielding. A man shouldn’t hurry a mouth such as this. He scraped his teeth lightly over her bottom lip and thrilled to the low, helpless purr that answered him. Slowly, watching her eyes glaze and close, he traced her lips with his tongue, dipped inside.
So many subtle flavors.
It was wonderful, the way he could feel her skin warm, her bones soften, her heart pound. Or maybe it was his heart. Something was roaring in his head, throbbing in his blood. It wasn’t until greed began to grow, with the crafty violence that mated with it, that he drew back.
She was trembling, and instinct warned him that if he let himself go, he’d hurt them both. “That was better than I imagined it would be,” he managed. “And I’ve got a hell of an imagination.”
Staggered, she braced a hand on the counter. Her knees were shaking. Only fear of mortification kept her voice from shaking as well. “Is this how you always behave when you come out of your cave?”
“I’m not always lucky enough to have a beautiful woman handy.” He tilted his head, studying her. The pulse in her throat was still jumping, and her skin was still flushed. But, unless he was off the mark, she was already rebuilding that thin, defensive wall. “That wasn’t ordinary. There isn’t any point in pretending it was.”
“I’m not ordinarily kissed by a guest while I’m making bread. I wouldn’t know what’s ordinary for you, would I?” His eyes changed, darkening with a hint of temper. When he stepped forward, she stepped back. “Please, don’t.”
Now those dark eyes narrowed. “Be more specific.”
“I have to finish this. The dough needs to rise again.”
“You’re evading, Brianna.”
“All right, don’t kiss me like that again.” She let out a choppy breath, drew another in. “I don’t have the right defenses.”
“It doesn’t have to be a battle. I’d like to take you to bed, Brianna.”
To occupy her nervous hands, she snatched up a towel and rubbed at the dough clinging to her fingers. “Well, that’s blunt.”
“It’s honest. If you’re not interested, just say so.”
“I don’t take things as casually as you, with a yes or a no, and no harm done.” Fighting for calm, she folded the towel neatly, set it aside. “And I’ve no experience in such matters.”
Damn her for being cool when his blood was raging. “What matters?”
“The one you’re speaking of. Now move aside, so I can get back to my bread.”
He simply took her arm and stared into her eyes. A virgin? he wondered, letting the idea circle around and take root. A woman who looked like this, who responded like this?
“Is something wrong with the men around here?” He said it lightly, hoping to cut some of the tension. But the result was a flash of pain in her eyes that made him feel like a slug.
“It’s my business, isn’t it, how I live my life?” Her voice had chilled. “Now, I’ve respected your wishes and your work these past days. Would you do me the same and let me get on with mine?”
“All right.” He let her go, stepped back. “I’m going out for a while.
Do you want me to pick up anything for you?”
“No, thank you.” She plunged her hands into the dough again and began to knead. “It’s raining a bit,” she said evenly. “You might want a jacket.”
He walked to the doorway, turned back. “Brianna.” He waited until she’d lifted her head. “You never said whether or not you were interested. I’ll have to assume you’re thinking about it.”
He strode out. She didn’t let out her next breath until she heard the door close behind him.
Gray worked off excess energy with a long drive and a visit to the Cliffs of Moher. To give them both time to settle, he stopped in for lunch at a pub in Ennis. He walked off a heavy dose of fish and chips by wandering along the narrow streets. Something in a shop window caught his eyes, and following impulse he stepped inside and had it boxed.
By the time he returned to Blackthorn, he’d nearly convinced himself that what he’d experienced in the kitchen with Brianna was more a result of his joy over his work than chemistry.
Still, when he stepped into his room and found her kneeling on the edge of his bathroom floor, a bucket beside her and a rag in her hand, the scales tipped the other way. If a man wasn’t dazzled with sex, why else would such a picture make his blood pump?
“Do you have any idea how often I come across you in that position?”
She looked over her shoulder. “It’s an honest living.” She blew her hair back. “I’ll tell you this, Grayson Thane, you live like a pig when you’re working.”
He cocked a brow. “Is that the way you talk to all your guests?”
He had her there. She flushed a little and slapped her rag back on the floor. “I’ll be done here soon if you’ve a mind to get back to it. I’ve another guest coming in this evening.”
“Tonight?” He scowled at the back of her head. He liked having the place to himself. Having her to himself. “Who?”
“A British gentleman. He called shortly after you left this morning.”
“Well, who is he? How long’s he staying?” And what the hell did he want?
“A night or two,” she said easily. “I don’t interrogate my guests, as you should know.”
“It just seems to me that you should ask questions. You can’t just let strangers waltz into your home.”
Amused, she sat back and shook her head at him. A combination of the scruffy and elegant, she thought, with his gold-tipped hair pulled back pirate-like, those lovely eyes of his sulky, the pricey boots, worn jeans, and crisp shirt. “That’s exactly what I do. I believe you waltzed in yourself, in the dead of night, not so long ago.”
“That’s different.” At her bland look, he shrugged. “It just is. Look, would you get up and stop that? You could eat off the damn floor.”
