go up on her tiptoes to lift the handle to its fullest.
“ Wait. ”
Jessica froze, teetered, and began to lose her balance. Before she could topple and accidently bring the pump handle down, Wolfe rushed forward and snatched her off her feet. She made a startled sound.
“You forgot something,” he said calmly.
She looked into midnight blue eyes that were intriguingly close to her own, for Wolfe had lifted her until her head was on a level with his.
“What did I forget?”
“You didn’t prime the pump.”
The blank look Jessica gave Wolfe told him that she didn’t know what he was talking about. He started to set her down, but her small, warm waist felt too good between his hands to let go of just yet.
“See that pitcher of water next to the pump?” Wolfe asked.
The deepening of his voice ruffled Jessica’s nerves in a way she liked without knowing why. She nodded. He shifted her suddenly, turning her away from him. The breathless sound she made was lost in his words.
“Pick up the pitcher, elf.”
She leaned across the counter, and in doing so, pressed her bottom into the cradle of Wolfe’sthighs. He closed his eyes and told himself to put her down. Instead, his hands tightened around her, savoring the supple warmth of her against the ache of male hunger and need that had concentrated between his thighs.
“Now pour the water into the opening at the top of the pump,” he said a low voice.
The motions Jessica made pressed her more intimately against Wolfe’s hungry flesh. Water splashed and danced, shimmering in the lantern light. Belatedly, Wolfe remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He shifted Jessica again, holding her against his body with one arm while the other worked the handle of the pump. Soon water gushed out of the pump’s spout and into the coffeepot until it overflowed.
“That,” Wolfe said, letting Jessica slide down his body until her feet touched the floor, “is called priming a pump.”
Ruefully, he acknowledged that the pump wasn’t the only thing that had been primed during the lesson, but he could hardly blame Jessica for that. She hadn’t known what she was doing when she pressed her backside against his groin until he could feel the very feminine flare of her hips beneath all the folds of cloth in her traveling dress.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
For an instant, Wolfe thought Jessica was referring to the change that had taken place in his body while he held her; then he realized she was talking about the pump. He opened his mouth to answer, but the thought of explaining to a wide-eyed elf the intricacies of suction, pressure, and pumping involved in the mechanism—while at the same time his body was on fire—defeated Wolfe.
“Think of it as a religious ritual,” he said finally.
Jessica tilted her head back to look up at him and realized anew just how large her husband was. Yet being held by him hadn’t frightened her or made her uneasy in any way. In fact, it had been very nice, as had seeing his eyes so close to hers and feeling the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The hard strength of his arm supporting her had been even more appealing, as had been the power and motion of his body as he worked the pump. Soft sensations shimmered through her at the thought of being held that way again.
“A religious ritual,” Jessica repeated in a dazed voice.
“I must have unpacked the parrot along with your sidesaddle.”
Laughing softly, Jessica shook her head. “Priming the pump is a religious ritual, and you unpacked the parrot with my sidesaddle. Oh, Wolfe, do you think our wits were addled by the long trip?”
“Very likely.”
For a moment she looked into the dear indigo depths of his eyes. The delicate shimmering sensation in the pit of her stomach strengthened.
“You do the most curious things to my stomach,” Jessica said in a husky voice.
“Nausea, loss of appetite?” Wolfe guessed wryly.
“Far from it. You make me feel as though
“ Wait. ”
Jessica froze, teetered, and began to lose her balance. Before she could topple and accidently bring the pump handle down, Wolfe rushed forward and snatched her off her feet. She made a startled sound.
“You forgot something,” he said calmly.
She looked into midnight blue eyes that were intriguingly close to her own, for Wolfe had lifted her until her head was on a level with his.
“What did I forget?”
“You didn’t prime the pump.”
The blank look Jessica gave Wolfe told him that she didn’t know what he was talking about. He started to set her down, but her small, warm waist felt too good between his hands to let go of just yet.
“See that pitcher of water next to the pump?” Wolfe asked.
The deepening of his voice ruffled Jessica’s nerves in a way she liked without knowing why. She nodded. He shifted her suddenly, turning her away from him. The breathless sound she made was lost in his words.
“Pick up the pitcher, elf.”
She leaned across the counter, and in doing so, pressed her bottom into the cradle of Wolfe’sthighs. He closed his eyes and told himself to put her down. Instead, his hands tightened around her, savoring the supple warmth of her against the ache of male hunger and need that had concentrated between his thighs.
“Now pour the water into the opening at the top of the pump,” he said a low voice.
The motions Jessica made pressed her more intimately against Wolfe’s hungry flesh. Water splashed and danced, shimmering in the lantern light. Belatedly, Wolfe remembered what he was supposed to be doing. He shifted Jessica again, holding her against his body with one arm while the other worked the handle of the pump. Soon water gushed out of the pump’s spout and into the coffeepot until it overflowed.
“That,” Wolfe said, letting Jessica slide down his body until her feet touched the floor, “is called priming a pump.”
Ruefully, he acknowledged that the pump wasn’t the only thing that had been primed during the lesson, but he could hardly blame Jessica for that. She hadn’t known what she was doing when she pressed her backside against his groin until he could feel the very feminine flare of her hips beneath all the folds of cloth in her traveling dress.
“Why did you do that?” she asked.
For an instant, Wolfe thought Jessica was referring to the change that had taken place in his body while he held her; then he realized she was talking about the pump. He opened his mouth to answer, but the thought of explaining to a wide-eyed elf the intricacies of suction, pressure, and pumping involved in the mechanism—while at the same time his body was on fire—defeated Wolfe.
“Think of it as a religious ritual,” he said finally.
Jessica tilted her head back to look up at him and realized anew just how large her husband was. Yet being held by him hadn’t frightened her or made her uneasy in any way. In fact, it had been very nice, as had seeing his eyes so close to hers and feeling the warmth of his breath on her cheek. The hard strength of his arm supporting her had been even more appealing, as had been the power and motion of his body as he worked the pump. Soft sensations shimmered through her at the thought of being held that way again.
“A religious ritual,” Jessica repeated in a dazed voice.
“I must have unpacked the parrot along with your sidesaddle.”
Laughing softly, Jessica shook her head. “Priming the pump is a religious ritual, and you unpacked the parrot with my sidesaddle. Oh, Wolfe, do you think our wits were addled by the long trip?”
“Very likely.”
For a moment she looked into the dear indigo depths of his eyes. The delicate shimmering sensation in the pit of her stomach strengthened.
“You do the most curious things to my stomach,” Jessica said in a husky voice.
“Nausea, loss of appetite?” Wolfe guessed wryly.
“Far from it. You make me feel as though
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