The gentle, irresistible tugging of Luke’s fingers made a wild shiver course visibly through Carla’s body. His eyes narrowed into glittering topaz slits as he felt an answering thrill race through his own flesh. An odd, consuming curiosity bloomed in him as he dipped his hands in warm water and rubbed up a mound of lather before turning back to her.
"Baby?" Luke whispered against Carla’s mouth, finding her nipples, tugging at them. "What does it feel like when I do this to you?"
"Like – " She made a breathless sound and lifted herself into his touch, twisting slowly, increasing the pressure of his caress.
"Tell me," he coaxed.
"Fire," she whispered. "A glittering kind of fire going all the way to my knees."
Strong hands followed Carla’s words, moving slowly, caressing and bathing her in consuming intimacy. His fingers slid delicately between her legs, bringing pleasure even as they gently washed away all signs that she had given herself to a man for the first time only a handful of hours ago.
For long, wild moments there was only the sound of Carla’s ragged moans and Luke’s hands gliding over her body and the rain outside softly sliding over hard stone. When Luke knew his control could take no more, he reluctantly turned away, grabbed the washrag with fingers that insisted on trembling, and rinsed the cloth thoroughly. He rinsed Carla just as thoroughly, bringing the clear water to her skin again and again, touching her as impersonally as he could until not a bit of soap remained; and still he rinsed her, for it was his only excuse to touch her.
"Luke?" Carla asked finally, not understanding.
She could see by the tension of his face and the occasional tremor in his hands that he was aroused, yet nothing caressed her except warm water and the soft cloth.
"Hold still, sunshine. I’m almost done."
His voice was deep, husky with the pounding of his blood.
"Does that mean I get to bathe you next?"
The thought of Carla’s hands touching him as intimately as he had touched her made Luke groan and swear at the same time. After a final, unnecessary passage of the washcloth over the dark, damp triangle at the apex of Carla’s thighs, Luke very delicately ran his fingertip between her legs, smiling and aching at her response.
"Bathing me would be a bad idea," he said hoarsely.
"Why? Wouldn’t you like it?"
"I’d like it too much. I’d lose control."
Carla’s eyes widened.
"It’s always been that way with you," Luke said simply. "I was afraid if I ever touched you, I’d have to fight myself to let you go. The first time I touched you, you ran. If you hadn’t, I’d have laid you down in front of the fireplace and taken you. The second time I touched you, you didn’t run. I had a hell of a battle with myself, sunshine. Since that night I’ve dreamed of having you in my lap again, only this time your body would fit me like a hot satin glove…"
Luke’s voice frayed. For a few moments there was silence while he visibly fought for self-control.
"So I didn’t touch you after that night in the dining room," Luke continued roughly. "Until last night."
"But I wanted you to touch me," Carla whispered. "I wanted it so much I would wake up in the middle of the night and ache. For you, Luke. For you."
The words sent a hammer blow of need through Luke that brought him to his knees. He put his forehead against Carla and fought for control.
"I’m aching so much now," she said huskily. "I hurt Make the ache go away, Luke."
"Baby…oh, God…don’t…"
"Please," Carla whispered, shivering. "Please, Luke. Love me."
Luke’s fingers bit painfully into the resilient curves of Carla’s hips. He shuddered once, a whiplash of violent need and restraint. Then the grip of his fingers eased and he began smoothing up and down the back of her legs, her hips, her waist He kissed the scented valley between her breasts, moving his face slowly from side to side, caressing her with his hair, his cheeks, his lips. The lazy, sensual savoring made her tremble.
Luke turned his face once more and Carla felt the unexpected, velvet rasp of his mouth across the tip of her breast. Her breath fragmented into a moan of surprise and pleasure.
"I wanted to do this last night," Luke said, punctuating each word with teasing licks and tiny bites, "but I was too hungry for you."
Slowly he nuzzled the resilient, scented flesh, tasting Carla, tracing the line where smooth skin became textured velvet nipple. Sensations splintered through her as his tongue teased and tempted and shaped her. She sank her fingers into his hair and held him close, wanting to give herself to him, afraid that he would stop caressing her and turn away.
Luke’s big hands smoothed down Carla’s legs, then back up again. His long fingers flexed into her thighs, her hips, the graceful length of her back, kneading her with a slow, consuming sensuality that matched the rhythm of his mouth transforming her breasts into burning centers of sensation. After a long, long time he lifted his head and admired the flushed, glistening peaks.
"So beautiful," Luke murmured.
"Don’t stop," Carla pleaded.
"Not a chance," he said, smiling with bittersweet acceptance. "I’ve hardly even begun."
He let the warmth of his breath rush over one sensitized breast. The tip of his tongue touched the hard nipple and then circled her in a tender caress that made her tremble. His tongue tasted her again, delicately, before his teeth closed on her with exquisite care. The whimper that came from her lips owed nothing to pain, everything to the pleasure that was licking over her in shimmering cascades of fire.
"I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you run in from a rain shower with your shirt sticking to you and your nipples standing up so proud and hard," Luke said huskily, turning to Carla’s other breast, taking its peak into his warm mouth.
"Why didn’t you?" She shivered with pleasure. "I wouldn’t have minded."
"You were barely sixteen."
Carla’s body stiffened in shock. "You wanted me that long ago?"
"Yes," he whispered, burying his face in her breasts, turning his head caressingly from side to side. "I wanted you until I could have screamed with it. But I shoved it down, buried it, ignored it, because I wanted something else even more."
"My brother’s friendship?" Carla guessed.
"And yours." Luke kissed the swollen pink tip of first one breast, then the other. "When you and Cash were on the Rocking M, it was as close to a real family as I ever came. I needed that more than I needed sex."
"You can have both now."
"It doesn’t work that way, sunshine," Luke whispered, his eyes narrowed against memories. "Not on the Rocking M."
Before Carla could ask Luke what he meant, one lean hand slid between her legs, seeking the softness that was concealed by dark curls. Her thoughts scattered as she felt again the gentle, probing caress of his fingertips. When he tested her silken depths, his name rushed between her parted lips in a startled cry as her knees gave way.
A few instants later Carla found herself back on the sleeping bag with Luke smiling down at her.
"You look surprised," he murmured. "Didn’t anyone ever warn you that your knees can give way?"
"I didn’t believe them," she admitted huskily. "I do now. You turn my bones to honey."
Luke’s eyes closed and his breath came in with a swift, husky sound as he bent over Carla and whispered, "Turn to honey for me. Let me taste your sweetness."
He kissed the sensitive curves of her ears, of her lips, of her breasts. Her navel fascinated him. He returned to the shadowed dimple again and again, probing with the sleek tip of his tongue, biting gently, making her moan with die unexpected sensations radiating out from her core. His caresses were like raindrops, a brushing of his mouth over her skin and then another brush and another until sensations overlapped and ran together, no beginning and no end, just heat gathering and rippling over her body, making her twist in slow motion as pleasure gathered, filling her until she moaned.