food. About to rebuke him for his foul language, she opened her mouth only to close it again as he continued. “Only you, Lady Liberty, could possibly produce a meal like this out in the middle of nowhere and provide chinaware too.” He sniffed and rubbed the scarred side of his mouth, all the time watching her, his eyes narrowed in thoughtful contemplation.
“I cannot imagine for one minute why I thought you were unintelligent.” A small lick of warmth hit her stomach, and she squelched it with a stab of her knife into the chicken, breaking it apart. She watched him lean over to swipe up a leg, substituting it for the fork as his pointing instrument. He seemed to like to point items at her.
“I need to tell you, it was not your breasts I saw first.”
Surprised, her eyes darted to his, held, and a little spark of warmth tried to ignite, but Liberty quelled it once more.
“It was your hair. You have beautiful hair.”
He ripped a chunk of chicken off with his teeth, chewed while still studying her, and then spoke around the food in his mouth. She swallowed hard, desperate not to be flattered. “And your eyes. I was right, they are come-fuck-me eyes, but not to everyone. You seem to be different things to different people.”
And she hated him for understanding because she needed to believe he was shallow.
He reached behind him, slipped an enormous knife out of the sheath attached to his saddle, and her mouth went dry as she thought he might just start to point it at her. He reached over and sliced a hunk of bread and a portion of cheese, placed them on her plate, and repeated it for his own plate. She remained utterly still, fascinated by his almost careless use of the huge and obviously extremely sharp knife. She couldn’t take her eyes off it until he waggled it and the fading sun glinted off it, mellow and warm.
He was pointing it at her plate. “It’s clean. I never put it away dirty.”
“Oh, well, that’s all right then.”
She ignored the food on her plate and watched, fascinated, as he sliced a paper-thin sliver of chicken from the breast, layered it with brie on top of a small piece of bread and held it up toward her mouth. She stared at the tidbit, tempted. So tempted, yet still she hesitated. Until he put the knife down on his other side, wrapped his arm around her, and effortlessly lifted her closer, making her realize, despite his slender form, his muscles were like molten steel.
He snuggled her into his side and stared at her mouth, touching his own lips with the tip of his tongue. She almost whimpered with the knowledge he wasn’t aware of the temptation he was offering.
She wanted to do it to him, a delicate touch of her tongue to his lips, just a sample. She knew it would be good, could almost taste him, but she knew if she made a move, he would be off like a bullet from a gun.
She tried to smile, tried to speak, but he’d immobilized her with his intensity.
“Liberty, you’re not eating. Open your mouth.” Like a bird, she opened her mouth and let him slide the small morsel in, closed her eyes, and allowed the delicious flavors to flood her taste buds.
His low throated moan made her eyelids fly open again. His bright eyes were filled with desire.
“Are you sure you want to call our relationship off?”
“We don’t have a relationship.”
His quick frown had her trying to move away. But he dragged her back, held her for a moment so they sat side-by-side, and then unraveled his arm so he could reach the food. He picked up his knife, made short work of preparing more food, handed her another, larger portion, gathered his own, and bit into it. The bear sounds came from his chest again, making her want to leap on him and lick him all over.
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me why I’m not good for you to have around.”
She cleared her throat and stared at the piece of food in her hand, her appetite suddenly not as voracious as it had been a moment before. She
“I cannot imagine for one minute why I thought you were unintelligent.” A small lick of warmth hit her stomach, and she squelched it with a stab of her knife into the chicken, breaking it apart. She watched him lean over to swipe up a leg, substituting it for the fork as his pointing instrument. He seemed to like to point items at her.
“I need to tell you, it was not your breasts I saw first.”
Surprised, her eyes darted to his, held, and a little spark of warmth tried to ignite, but Liberty quelled it once more.
“It was your hair. You have beautiful hair.”
He ripped a chunk of chicken off with his teeth, chewed while still studying her, and then spoke around the food in his mouth. She swallowed hard, desperate not to be flattered. “And your eyes. I was right, they are come-fuck-me eyes, but not to everyone. You seem to be different things to different people.”
And she hated him for understanding because she needed to believe he was shallow.
He reached behind him, slipped an enormous knife out of the sheath attached to his saddle, and her mouth went dry as she thought he might just start to point it at her. He reached over and sliced a hunk of bread and a portion of cheese, placed them on her plate, and repeated it for his own plate. She remained utterly still, fascinated by his almost careless use of the huge and obviously extremely sharp knife. She couldn’t take her eyes off it until he waggled it and the fading sun glinted off it, mellow and warm.
He was pointing it at her plate. “It’s clean. I never put it away dirty.”
“Oh, well, that’s all right then.”
She ignored the food on her plate and watched, fascinated, as he sliced a paper-thin sliver of chicken from the breast, layered it with brie on top of a small piece of bread and held it up toward her mouth. She stared at the tidbit, tempted. So tempted, yet still she hesitated. Until he put the knife down on his other side, wrapped his arm around her, and effortlessly lifted her closer, making her realize, despite his slender form, his muscles were like molten steel.
He snuggled her into his side and stared at her mouth, touching his own lips with the tip of his tongue. She almost whimpered with the knowledge he wasn’t aware of the temptation he was offering.
She wanted to do it to him, a delicate touch of her tongue to his lips, just a sample. She knew it would be good, could almost taste him, but she knew if she made a move, he would be off like a bullet from a gun.
She tried to smile, tried to speak, but he’d immobilized her with his intensity.
“Liberty, you’re not eating. Open your mouth.” Like a bird, she opened her mouth and let him slide the small morsel in, closed her eyes, and allowed the delicious flavors to flood her taste buds.
His low throated moan made her eyelids fly open again. His bright eyes were filled with desire.
“Are you sure you want to call our relationship off?”
“We don’t have a relationship.”
His quick frown had her trying to move away. But he dragged her back, held her for a moment so they sat side-by-side, and then unraveled his arm so he could reach the food. He picked up his knife, made short work of preparing more food, handed her another, larger portion, gathered his own, and bit into it. The bear sounds came from his chest again, making her want to leap on him and lick him all over.
“Tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Tell me why I’m not good for you to have around.”
She cleared her throat and stared at the piece of food in her hand, her appetite suddenly not as voracious as it had been a moment before. She
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