Page 36 of Too Hot To Handle

„You sure do like that cliff, don’t you?“ asked Dutch, looking up as Tory went by dressed in her riding clothes again. „You can see everything from there, can’t you?“

„Almost,“ she said quickly, shivering, not wanting to talk.

Once back at the lodge, Tory went to her room and changed into dry clothes. One wing of three bedrooms and the kitchen were the only parts of the lodge and cottages that were completely finished. The rest waited for carpenters and painters who always seemed to be busy elsewhere. Not that Reever was complaining; he wouldn’t care if the Sundance Retreat never opened. Tory halfway suspected that he was paying the workers not to show up.

Tory hurried into the kitchen and stopped, astonished to find that Reever was there, calmly browning meat for chili on the lodge’s big gas stove.

„If you make the biscuits,“ he said, looking up, „we can have supper all ready to go. Then we can sneak away for a ride to that tiny hidden meadow I told you about.“

Tory’s sudden smile made Reever wonder if he had ever seen anything half so beautiful. He smiled in return, holding out his hand to her, bringing her fingers to his lips. He rubbed his mustache against her inner wrist and traced the lines of her veins with the tip of his tongue.

„Can you make biscuits one-handed?“ he asked in a low voice, biting the pad of flesh at the base of her thumb.

Slowly she shook her head.

„Damn.“ Reluctantly Reever released Tory’s hand. „Show me how fast you can make biscuits, little cat.“

As soon as Tory’s heartbeat settled down, it took her very little time at all to get the rest of the dinner ready. Hand in hand, she and Reever walked down to the corral, which was little more than a series of ropes strung between pine trees. Twinkletoes was there, but not Blackjack.

„I told Teague that he could use Blackjack,“ Reever said casually. „We’ll double up on Twinkletoes. It’s about time you learned how to ride bareback anyway.“ He grinned down at Tory. „Don’t look so worried. Twinkletoes is so placid you could hang upside down from her belly and she’d never notice. And you can hang on to me as much as you want.“

Reever buried his left hand in Twinkletoes’s mane, took one step and vaulted onto the mare’s back in a single flowing movement, making no more fuss about mounting than if he had used a stirrup.

„Close your mouth, city girl. You’ll catch flies,“ teased Reever.

„How did you do that?“ demanded Tory.

„Practice. Strength doesn’t hurt, either.“

„No kidding,“ she said dryly. „Any other suggestions?“

„Hold out your left arm. Grab my left arm just above the elbow,“ he said, leaning down to her. „Step onto my boot just like it was a stirrup.“

Tory did and found herself being lifted through the air and swung into place behind Reever. The first thing she noticed was the sensation of warmth radiating up from Twinkletoes through her jeans.

The second thing was the ripple and play of powerful muscles as the mare shifted her weight.

The third thing was the fact that, short of actually making love, there was no greater physical intimacy possible for a man and a woman than riding double, bareback.

„Ready?“ asked Reever.

„What a question,“ Tory muttered.

He looked over his shoulder, saw her dilating pupils and knew just what was happening to her. The same thing was happening to him. He had been looking forward to this ride for a long time. He smiled slowly, wickedly.

„Wrap your arms around me,“ Reever said. When Tory did, he twisted in slow motion, rubbing his back sensually across her breasts, caressing her. He heard her breath come in suddenly as her back arched, increasing the sweet pressure of his touch. „Ah, little cat,“ he said huskily, „I can feel your nipples asking for me. I’m going to make you wait, though. I’m going to make you as wild as my dreams.“

Tory’s breath shivered out as Reever’s big, hard hand traced the length of her thigh nestled so intimately against his. „I’ll get even with you,“ she said in a trembling voice. „I swear it.“

„God, honey, I hope so. Hang on.“

A touch of Reever’s heels sent Twinkletoes walking out into the sunlight that was slanting down between the erect, fragrant bodies of the pines. After the first few minutes Tory found it surprisingly easy to adjust to being bareback. If anything, the lack of a saddle helped her to find and move to the horse’s rhythms more quickly. Before a mile had gone by, she relaxed completely against Reever and let the warmth of the sun, of the placid horse and of the man she loved seep into her.

Reever sensed Tory’s adjustment to the new style of riding in the easy, rhythmic swaying of her body against his. Smiling, knowing that he could safely distract her now, he brought one of her hands up to his mouth. Gently he sucked on each finger in turn, biting lightly at the most sensitive flesh, softly devouring her until he heard her whimper deep in her throat. Then his teeth closed less gently on her palm until she shivered and arched against him, clinging to his hard warmth.

With aching sensuality Reever rubbed Tory’s hands over his chest, turning and twisting against her like a cat until her nails found his tiny, hard male nipples and scraped sweetly over them. A groan wedged deep in his throat. He released her fingers, but she didn’t stop caressing him. Her hands moved in the same sensual rhythms of the horse walking, and her body stroked his with each motion.

Tory pressed closer to Reever’s powerful back even as her fingers slid between the snaps of his shirt. At the first hot touch of his flesh, she made a low sound. Slowly her hands tugged in opposite directions, unfastening the snaps on his shirt one by one. Her palms rubbed over him restlessly, hungrily, and her fingers dug softly beneath the thick hair. He moved against her touch, stroking her with his own body while fire pooled hotly, heavily between his thighs. He felt her hand search each ridge and swell of muscle on his chest even as her mouth pressed against his spine. Her teeth tugged at his shirt while her fingers flexed and buried themselves in the warm black thatch of hair curling over his chest.