Luc prowling around downstairs, opening and closing doors, fiddling with the radio in the kitchen and the television set in what would someday be the parlor.
She sensed a weird logic to his wanderings. They seemed to bring him ever closer until eventually, she made out the slap of bare feet on the stairs. He climbed slowly, as if reluctant to reach the top. He paused once. She thought he might turn and go back downstairs. A moment later, his movements resumed. When they stopped again she knew he stood just outside the half opened door.
"Callie?"
"Yes?" She turned toward him.
"If you tell me to leave I will."
The rough texture of his voice and a heaviness in his tone told her breathing had become difficult for him, as if he struggled to control his feelings. Buffeted by desire and guilt, she was having no easier time.
"Stay," she whispered, barely able to get out the words.
The last of the rain shrouded the house like a silky-warm cocoon. The light outside had gone from black to a misty gray that seemed to invade the room, giving the atmosphere a dreamlike quality. As Luc's hesitation dragged on, Callie wondered whether she should laugh or cry. Finally, she chuckled.
“I’ve never had to beg a man before....”
His answering smile cut through the gloom. “Think of it as giving me permission to change my mind.”
He knelt beside her, a bemused expression on his face.
“Why the confusion?” she asked.
“Once I make a decision I don’t waiver.”
“I’ve noticed.”
"But the thought of you keeps pulling at me." He leaned closer. "I can't get you out of my mind...."
She touched his cheek, as before, enjoying the growth of stubble. "I haven't been to sleep yet...."
"I have to get to work in two hours."
"You can't do a good job without rest," she murmured.
"What d'you have planned today?" His voice had smoothed out as if the act of speaking had reduced his stress level. She felt his breath against her mouth.
"I have to ride into Albuquerque."
"A dangerous trip if your reflexes aren't sharp."
"Then could you say this is preventive medicine...?" She twined her fingers in his thick, coarse textured hair that felt just as she'd known it would.
"Preventive?" he murmured. "'Therapeutic, is more like it." His tongue searched for hers, making gentle contact as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Curative?" Her hands slipped beneath his shirt and caressed his back.
"Not the way my heart is pounding," he said with a small groan.
"Or the way my pulse is racing."
"Palliative, then?" He cupped one breast in its thin covering of cotton, brushing the hardened nipple with a fingertip.
"You do read, Señor Sheriff." Callie sighed against his mouth. "I can definitely predict relief in store."
"But no cure?"
"That remains to be seen."
"Well, then, querida , let's look."
Callie hesitated, surprising both of them. In answer to her sudden bout of shyness, Luc lay down, stretching the length of his body along hers and wrapping his arms around her again. Nestled within his strong yet gentle embrace, she felt sheltered, warmed and so wanted.
“How’s this?” he whispered.
“I’d like to stay this way forever.”
“I don’t think I can wait that long.”
“For what?”
“For this.” His lips touched hers, gently at first, then with more insistence. His tongue resumed its exploration of the slippery inner surface of her mouth, enticing her to do the same to his.
“And this,” he said. His hand slipped beneath her shirt, caressing her breasts until both nipples hardened and her velvety skin trembled from his touch.
“Luc,” Callie said, his name a groan against his mouth. Her hands kneaded the corded muscles of his bare back and shoulders.
“And this.” He drew the shirt over her head and lowered his mouth to her creamy breasts, caressing first one and then the other with soft, butterfly kisses.
Callie unbuckled his belt and together they worked his jeans down and off, tossing them aside. Her
She sensed a weird logic to his wanderings. They seemed to bring him ever closer until eventually, she made out the slap of bare feet on the stairs. He climbed slowly, as if reluctant to reach the top. He paused once. She thought he might turn and go back downstairs. A moment later, his movements resumed. When they stopped again she knew he stood just outside the half opened door.
"Callie?"
"Yes?" She turned toward him.
"If you tell me to leave I will."
The rough texture of his voice and a heaviness in his tone told her breathing had become difficult for him, as if he struggled to control his feelings. Buffeted by desire and guilt, she was having no easier time.
"Stay," she whispered, barely able to get out the words.
The last of the rain shrouded the house like a silky-warm cocoon. The light outside had gone from black to a misty gray that seemed to invade the room, giving the atmosphere a dreamlike quality. As Luc's hesitation dragged on, Callie wondered whether she should laugh or cry. Finally, she chuckled.
“I’ve never had to beg a man before....”
His answering smile cut through the gloom. “Think of it as giving me permission to change my mind.”
He knelt beside her, a bemused expression on his face.
“Why the confusion?” she asked.
“Once I make a decision I don’t waiver.”
“I’ve noticed.”
"But the thought of you keeps pulling at me." He leaned closer. "I can't get you out of my mind...."
She touched his cheek, as before, enjoying the growth of stubble. "I haven't been to sleep yet...."
"I have to get to work in two hours."
"You can't do a good job without rest," she murmured.
"What d'you have planned today?" His voice had smoothed out as if the act of speaking had reduced his stress level. She felt his breath against her mouth.
"I have to ride into Albuquerque."
"A dangerous trip if your reflexes aren't sharp."
"Then could you say this is preventive medicine...?" She twined her fingers in his thick, coarse textured hair that felt just as she'd known it would.
"Preventive?" he murmured. "'Therapeutic, is more like it." His tongue searched for hers, making gentle contact as he wrapped his arms around her.
"Curative?" Her hands slipped beneath his shirt and caressed his back.
"Not the way my heart is pounding," he said with a small groan.
"Or the way my pulse is racing."
"Palliative, then?" He cupped one breast in its thin covering of cotton, brushing the hardened nipple with a fingertip.
"You do read, Señor Sheriff." Callie sighed against his mouth. "I can definitely predict relief in store."
"But no cure?"
"That remains to be seen."
"Well, then, querida , let's look."
Callie hesitated, surprising both of them. In answer to her sudden bout of shyness, Luc lay down, stretching the length of his body along hers and wrapping his arms around her again. Nestled within his strong yet gentle embrace, she felt sheltered, warmed and so wanted.
“How’s this?” he whispered.
“I’d like to stay this way forever.”
“I don’t think I can wait that long.”
“For what?”
“For this.” His lips touched hers, gently at first, then with more insistence. His tongue resumed its exploration of the slippery inner surface of her mouth, enticing her to do the same to his.
“And this,” he said. His hand slipped beneath her shirt, caressing her breasts until both nipples hardened and her velvety skin trembled from his touch.
“Luc,” Callie said, his name a groan against his mouth. Her hands kneaded the corded muscles of his bare back and shoulders.
“And this.” He drew the shirt over her head and lowered his mouth to her creamy breasts, caressing first one and then the other with soft, butterfly kisses.
Callie unbuckled his belt and together they worked his jeans down and off, tossing them aside. Her
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