Too Hot To Handle

by Elizabeth Lowell

  Reever’s breath shortened. He was caught between two fires, Tory’s hands on his chest and her mouth caressing his back. His own hands began a slow, sweet stroking of her thighs until she rocked against him with more than the horse’s easy motions. Slowly, inevitably, her hands slid down his chest to the less sensually rewarding material of his jeans. She stroked his hard thighs once and then again and again, using her fingernails and sliding higher up his legs each time until she finally brushed against the rigid proof of his desire.

  “Tory—” he groaned.

  Her hands settled over him sweetly, hotly.

  “Let me,” she breathed, closing her teeth on his back with the slow, loving sensuality he had taught her. “Help me.”

  He looked down and saw her delicate fin­gers against the faded blue fabric as she stroked him. He knew he should stop her, but it was too much what he had dreamed of since the first day she had ridden behind him and he had ached at the thought of having her hands on him. When she tugged blindly at the fastening on his jeans, he shuddered heavily.

  “Reever,” she said, her hands trembling, her breath hot against his back. “Please.”

  Slowly he guided her fingers over his jeans until the cloth parted. Her hands eased inside his clothes. She made a husky sound of discovery and pleasure as she found him. He felt her touch like sweet fire over his aroused flesh. With a stifled groan he shifted position, bringing himself more fully into her hands.

  “I love touching you,” she said huskily, and her breath flowed hotly over his skin. “I love feeling you change and knowing you want me more and more with each heartbeat. Your whole body gets hard. Everywhere, not just where I’m holding you now.” Her teeth closed over a muscle that rippled beneath the taut, naked skin of his back. “You’re so strong,” she whispered. “I love your strength. I love the salty taste of your skin. I love your heat. I love—”

  At the last instant she controlled the tumbling words, dragging herself back from the brink of ad­mitting how much she loved Reever himself.

  “Everything,” she said finally, caressing him, measuring his potency, savoring the different tex­tures that went from hot satin smoothness to the tight male flesh hidden within a thatch of hair. “I love everything about you, Reever.”

  “God,” he groaned. The sight of her slender fingers loving him was like being connected to an electric current. He shook convulsively, repeatedly, a man being softly, wildly devoured. “Stop,” he said. “You’ll make me lose con­trol.”

  “Then I’ll just have to start all over again, won’t I?” She laughed softly and bit his back hard enough to leave a mark. “I can hardly wait.”

  He endured it for a few moments longer, watching her hands like sweet flames caressing him, burning him. And then he felt forerunners of release shuddering through him. He called her name, trying to still her hands, but it was too much like his dream, sweet and wild, inevitable, and the knowledge that she was shaking almost as much as he was only made it hotter.

  When he finally managed to ease her hands up his body and refastened his jeans, he kissed her palms lovingly and stroked her arms, trying to calm her. It was a long time before they both could breathe without air catching in their throats. Only then did he stop Twinkle Toes, bring his right leg over her neck, and slide off.

  “Reever?” Tory asked.

  “Scoot forward and lean to the right, little cat. It’s your turn. And mine.”

  She didn’t understand, but she did as he had asked. He swung up behind her in a single swift motion, reached around her and picked up the reins. A gentle nudge of his heels sent the mare am­bling up the dim trail. He let go of the knotted reins, knowing that Twinks would keep walking without his guidance.

  “I was going to ride this way from the first,” he said, pulling her even closer against his body, “but I didn’t trust myself to get all the way to the meadow. Then I discovered that you’re every bit as bad—and as good—as I am.”

  She gave him a puzzled look over her shoul­der, still not understanding. He smiled down at her with such sensual promise that her lips parted on a sudden intake of breath. He caught her chin and licked her lips delicately, nibbling and tugging as if it was her breasts rather than her mouth he was teasing. The promise implicit in his caress made her nipples tingle and tighten in a rush that sent fire racing through her core.

  “They know, don’t they?” he whispered, bit­ing the nape of her neck as his hands settled around her ribs, pulling the T-shirt tight to reveal her hard nipples.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Your breasts,” he said, rubbing his palms along her ribs. “See? They’re changing for me.” Just above the tight crowns his fingers traced circles that touched only air. Even so, she rose and tightened visibly, as if she had been stroked. “They know I’m going to love them with my hands and my mouth.” His voice deepened as his fingers drifted down her body to her thighs. “Does the rest of you know that, honey? Are you changing for me where I can’t see you?”

  She shivered and Reever smiled.

  “I’m going to find out,” he said, tasting her neck as he caressed her thighs. “But not right away.” His hands eased up to her ribs again, and this time he was beneath the soft cotton of her T-shirt. His touch skirted her breasts, defining them without touching them.

  “You’re tortur­ing me,” she said huskily, turning toward him, trying to capture his elusive touch.

  “No, I’m not,” he said, laughing softly. “Not yet. But soon, little cat. Soon I’m going to hold your breasts in my hands. I’m going to stroke and tug on those pink buds until something flowers deep inside you. Then I’m going to undo your jeans and find another bud, another flowering, but this one won’t be hidden inside you. This one I’ll be able to tease and love until I have to hold you on Twinks because you’ll forget where you are, who you are, everything but my touch on your sweet, hungry body.”

  She tried to speak, could not, and shivered in­stead. He smiled as he watched the march of sensation over his lover’s smooth skin.

  “I can’t wait any longer,” he said. His voice was very deep as his teeth caressed her neck with fierce restraint. “I’ve dreamed about this since I brought you back to the ranch on Blackjack weeks ago. But Blackjack isn’t placid like Twinks, and you couldn’t ride worth a damn then. It’s different now. Lift your arms for me, honey. Let me show you what a woman like you does to a man like me.”

  Slowly Tory lifted her arms over her head. Reever spread his big, warm fingers and eased the T-shirt up over her body without touching her skin. The sliding pressure of the cloth over her nipples made her breath catch. His left arm settled over her bare midriff while his right hand tucked her T-shirt safely inside the waistband of his jeans. He tightened his arm, bringing her fully against his body, giving him a view of the creamy curves and deep pink tips. His muscular forearm moved up to take the warm, soft weight of her breasts. The con­trast between her pale, smooth skin and the tanned, black-haired power of his arm made Reever feel hot and very male.

  “I feel like I’ve been waiting all my life to see you like this,” he said, rubbing his forearm slowly against her. “All that long ride home I wanted to tear off that damned T-shirt and see those sweet buds against my skin. Then when my hand touched you like this—”

  Her whole body stiffened as his right hand skimmed over the aching peak of her breast.

  “Yes,” he said thickly. “You jerked just like that, like you’d been touched by a live wire. Is that how it feels when I touch you, honey? So good it almost hurts? It feels like that when you touch me.”

  “Reever,” Tory moaned, seeing his hand so close to her but not giving her what she needed as much as she needed air. “Oh, Reever, please.”

  “You get so hard,” he said, his voice deep and dark. He shifted his hands until her breasts filled his palms and his fingers could capture the taut nipples. �
��I love seeing you, feeling you, knowing that I’ve done this to you. And then I love doing this.”

  His fingers closed, tugging at her, rolling her between his sensitive fingertips until her hips began to move in the primal rhythms of passion.

  “Tell me what it feels like,” he said, his voice soft, hoarse.

  “Wires—tightening,” she said raggedly. “All through me. Hot—sweet—wires.” She arched against his hands, silently asking for a harder touch.

  “Put your hands over mine, honey. Show me how to make it feel even better for you. Don’t be shy,” he murmured when he saw the blush rising up her neck. He released her breasts, not touching her. “I want to know how to love you,” he said huskily. “I want this to be your dream, too. Or didn’t you want my hands on you all that long ride home? Didn’t you ever dream about riding double with me, naked, and having me love you until you came apart? I dreamed about it, little cat. And every time I dreamed, I woke up shaking, sweating, wild.”

  Breath shuddered through Tory. The sunlight and air caressed her breasts, but that wasn’t enough. She looked down and saw his hard, tanned fingers on her thighs and saw the aching, rose-tipped hunger of her breasts. Slowly she pulled his hands up her body until they enveloped her breasts. She turned from side to side, dragging her sensitive peaks across his palms, holding him close, hard. When his fingers caught her nipples, she shuddered and moaned her approval as she rubbed her cheek against his chest, needing the masculine textures of hair and hard mus­cle.

  Reever watched Tory’s eyes close while sensa­tions shivered through her, making her whole body taut. He continued the sweet torment of her breasts until her cheeks were flushed and her breath came quickly, hotly. Then he tilted her face up to his and kissed her while his hand caressed the length of her body once and then again. The third time his hand moved over her jeans, they came undone. Long, lean fingers slid inside the tiny triangle of her briefs.

  The ragged cry she gave when he rhyth­mically stroked her was a sound from his dreams. His hands closed sweetly, fiercely, on one breast and between her thighs, holding her in a sensual vise while his teeth caressed the nape of her neck. Her hips lifted instinctively into his touch, giving more of herself to him. With a thick sound of satisfaction, he took her silky secrets while his thumb teased the hard bud concealed within her softness. She began to twist slowly, consumed by his touch. He whis­pered to her, asking her what she wanted, giving it to her even as she answered, feeling her melt and run like wild honey beneath the hot skill of his hands.

  “Reever—” Tory’s voice broke as his thumb moved slowly, smoothly, making her shiver, plea­sure showering through her with each touch. “No more,” she cried finally. “I can’t—I’m going to—”

  “Then I’ll just have to start over again, won’t I?” Reever said, repeating what she had told him a few minutes before. He smiled down at her, his eyes a silver blaze of passion and anticipation. “Only with you, little cat, it isn’t a case of starting over like it is for me. The second time you’ll start higher, and then I’ll take you even higher, all the way to the far side of the sun.”

  She tried to speak but could not. Her body was no longer hers. He had stolen it one caress at a time until she could only twist in slow motion against him, covering his fingers with her own, teaching and learning at the same time until she gave a husky cry and arched like a drawn bow in his hands. He cradled her against his hot body, holding her in place on the horse’s broad back. Slowly he kissed her flushed cheek and caressed her very gently, bringing her back to herself. When she gave a long, trembling sigh, he smiled and touched her hot skin with his open mouth.

  “That’s just the beginning,” he murmured, tasting the warm mist that passion had brought to her skin. “Look around you. We’ve reached the meadow.”

  Her eyes opened slowly. All around her grass grew thickly, and the air was heavy with the scent of flowers unraveled by the sun. He dismounted and lifted her from the mare’s back into his arms. He walked to a small rise and sank to his knees in the cool grass.

  Her eyes darkened until they were the intense summer green of the grass as she watched her lover bending down to her, his ex­pression intent, dark, heavy with sensuality. Slowly he undressed her and then himself. Very gently he parted her legs, caressing their smooth length, watching her with eyes the color of tarnished silver, eyes that promised...everything.

  “I’m going to make love to you the way I’ve dreamed of it,” he said in a husky, caressing voice as his fingertips traced the curves of her legs. “You couldn’t have accepted it before now. And neither could I before I met you. This will be a first for me, too.”

  She watched him with eyes that were almost frightened. He was more aroused than she had ever seen him. The sight of his naked need was a live wire brushing her, sweetly shocking every nerve to life, promising a passion that she had never known. As he knelt between her legs, she began to shiver under the impact of the primal sensuality radiating from him. He lowered himself over her, stroking all of her with a single slow movement of his powerful body.

  His open mouth moved over her face, tasting her, feeling her, caressing her, knowing her with teeth and tongue and lips. She caught and held him with her mouth for a long, sweet moment, and his tongue promised her things she had never dreamed of. When he tore his mouth from hers, she whimpered softly. His teeth closed on her neck in a fierce caress that left a loving mark and drew a sound of surprise and passion from her lips. Slowly he laved the mark with his tongue before his mouth moved lower. He found a breast and consumed it as slowly and completely as he had consumed her mouth. It was the same for her other breast, tugged and suckled to a hard peak while she shivered and twisted beneath the loving demands of his tongue.

  His open mouth traced the line of her ribs as he eased further down her body. She felt the sud­den, hard warmth of his rigid tongue flicking into her navel again and again, sending surprising bursts of heat through her with each touch. When she slid her fingers into his hair to hold him closer, he bit her shivering flesh gently and slid further down her flushed body.

  As she had done when she drank from the creek, he rubbed his face against her body re­peatedly, turning from side to side, caressing the tan­gled triangle of dark gold hair until she moaned. His hands stroked her inner thighs with subtle demand. Instinctively she yielded, opening to him even more. And then her whole body tightened at the first inti­mate touch of his mouth.

  “It’s all right,” he said gently, biting her with exquisite delicacy. “You’re almost ready now.”

  “For what?” she whispered, and her voice, like her body, trembled.

  “To die with me inside you, and then be born again the same way. With me. We’re going to be together all the way to our souls.”

  She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Sensations she had never known were sweeping through her, drag­ging fire in their wake. She called his name and was answered by a caress that made her cry out at the incandescent pleasure bursting through her. The world slid farther away from her with each wave of fire, each consuming caress, until she could neither think nor speak, only respond with an aban­don that was like nothing she had ever experienced.

  With a final, slow caress he moved over her, wrapping himself around her, catching her wild cries with his mouth at the same instant that he thrust into her, burying himself in the sweet heat and ecstatic fire he had created. He felt the fierce, deli­cate, overwhelming completion take her even as he did. He moved slowly, fully, increasing and savoring her release as if it was his own. When the last shivering tremors finally faded from her softness, he held himself perfectly still, waiting for her eyes to open.

  “Tory,” he murmured, biting her lower lip with exquisite sensuality.

  Her eyes opened and she stared straight into the hot silver of barely leashed, soul-deep desire. “Reever?”

  “Yes, little cat,” he said huskily. “No
w it be­gins.”

  The first powerful movement of his body made her gasp. The second movement inflamed nerves still shivering in the aftermath of ecstasy. The pleasure was so intense that she had to bite her lip against a scream. Desire burst through her as she felt every muscle in her lover’s body become rigid with sensual tension. She smelled the heady, musky heat of his skin and was deeply aware of every mo­tion he made within her. He moved again and then again, harder, deeper, faster, ripping the world away from her with each potent motion of his body.

  She didn’t know that her nails raked down his back as she wept and shuddered and cried her wild ecstasy. She knew only that she could feel no greater pleasure without dying. She tried to tell him that she could bear no more, but no words came to her in her need, only explosions of greater and greater ecstasy. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, her body an arc of release.

  Dimly she heard her name torn from his throat in a harsh, broken cry as his control burst into a shattering release. With all his power he locked himself so deeply within her that each pulse of his pleasure was a live current touching her. Her whole body shook with the violence of the ecstasy sleeting through her. Wave after wave of pleasure trans­formed her, wringing sweet cries from her as each expanding ring of ecstasy swept through her and burst.

  Slowly, slowly, the world condensed again around Tory. There was the untamed blue of sky and the rippling green of summer grass and the tan of Reever’s face as he watched her darkly. He was holding her with bruising strength, still locked deeply within her.

  Somewhere a voice whispered I love you, I love you, I love you, as if a breath could not be taken without that elemental truth being spoken.

  At first she thought that she was dreaming. Then she realized that she was awake, that Reever was watching her with eyes that were the color of steel and that it was her own voice whispering the forbidden words to him.

  I love you.