he had supplies laid by. It wasn't much of a home anymore. He looked
at the rooms through a city woman's eyes and they came up sorely lacking.
"It's not much," he said with an apology in his tone.
"I don't spend much time here."
"It's rather quaintly charming, actually," she said,
touching the edge of the table and the rungs of a ladder-back chair. She had a
way of touching people and things, as though she experienced them through her
fingertips. "It has possibilities."
Sam couldn't imagine what possibilities, but he took her wrap and
hat and hung them beside the door. He blinked at the unaccustomed sight of the
feminine garments, a knot in his chest. Catching himself, he turned to his
task, raised the stove lid and stirred the fire to life with the poker. Sparks
floated toward the ceiling. From the stack beside the stove, he took a chunk of
wood and added it, then set about slicing ham and opening a can of beans. A
whoosh flew up the stovepipe as the fire caught, and he heated their meal.
Eden found plates and silverware and set the table. "I don't
suppose you have any tea?"
"'Fraid not."
"I'll drink water. I haven't developed a taste for your
western coffee."
He forked slices of ham onto the plates and set the hot beans on
the table in the pan. "Quite a bit about the West takes some gettin' used
to. I should have put those in a bowl."
He reached for the handle of the pan, but she caught his wrist.
"It's all right, Sam. You don't have to do anything fancy on my behalf."
He looked at her hand, small and pale and soft. Not the hand of
someone who scrubbed laundry on a washboard or made soap or milked cows. She
was like a traveler from another time and place set down in his kitchen, and he
couldn't quite grasp the marvel of her presence. That she even wanted to be
with him was a wonder.
"Are you exceedingly hungry?" Her dewy lips formed that
delicate pout.
Sam shook his head in a lie. He was always hungry at dinnertime.
"Neither am I." She released his hand and touched his
lips with her finger. Taking another step closer, she breathed, "But I do
have a craving for something sweet."
Heat rushed through Sam's veins and his body reacted immediately
and potently. No, he wasn't dead by a long shot. Unless he was missing the
mark, Eden was as eager for something to develop between them as he was. He
might miss the signal, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to see if he
was right.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he drew her solidly up against
him. Her eyes darkened with sultry excitement as she held his gaze. There was
no mistaking his desire pressed between them. Her nostrils flared with
anticipation.
Lowering his head, Sam kissed her. She responded with a growl in
the back of her throat. He didn't know if he'd ever kissed a woman who threw
herself into the act like Eden. She used her teeth and her lips and her tongue
until both of them were breathing hard.
With pauses for breath, she leaned back and made quick work of
Sam's tie and shirt buttons, freeing the tail and pushing the garment off his
shoulders and down his arms.
She ran her hands over his chest and arms appreciatively.
"You're so bumpy in all the right places. Here—" She tested his
biceps. "Here—"That said with her tongue lapping his shoulder.
Sam gritted his teeth.
In a wash of rose perfume, she turned and presented her back.
"My buttons, Sam."
The tiny things taunted him, but he was persistent and laboriously
peeled each one away from its mooring. Her ivory skin was exposed an inch at a
time, until the dress fell away and she stepped out of it, turning back. She
stood before him in a lace-trimmed corset, her breasts spilling over the top
and stealing his breath.
"You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen," he told
her.
She gave him a provocative smile. "Is that the truth?"
"I wouldn't say so if it wasn't."
She leaned in to brush her softness against his chest. Large dusky
nipples peeked over the top of her corset.
With catlike
at the rooms through a city woman's eyes and they came up sorely lacking.
"It's not much," he said with an apology in his tone.
"I don't spend much time here."
"It's rather quaintly charming, actually," she said,
touching the edge of the table and the rungs of a ladder-back chair. She had a
way of touching people and things, as though she experienced them through her
fingertips. "It has possibilities."
Sam couldn't imagine what possibilities, but he took her wrap and
hat and hung them beside the door. He blinked at the unaccustomed sight of the
feminine garments, a knot in his chest. Catching himself, he turned to his
task, raised the stove lid and stirred the fire to life with the poker. Sparks
floated toward the ceiling. From the stack beside the stove, he took a chunk of
wood and added it, then set about slicing ham and opening a can of beans. A
whoosh flew up the stovepipe as the fire caught, and he heated their meal.
Eden found plates and silverware and set the table. "I don't
suppose you have any tea?"
"'Fraid not."
"I'll drink water. I haven't developed a taste for your
western coffee."
He forked slices of ham onto the plates and set the hot beans on
the table in the pan. "Quite a bit about the West takes some gettin' used
to. I should have put those in a bowl."
He reached for the handle of the pan, but she caught his wrist.
"It's all right, Sam. You don't have to do anything fancy on my behalf."
He looked at her hand, small and pale and soft. Not the hand of
someone who scrubbed laundry on a washboard or made soap or milked cows. She
was like a traveler from another time and place set down in his kitchen, and he
couldn't quite grasp the marvel of her presence. That she even wanted to be
with him was a wonder.
"Are you exceedingly hungry?" Her dewy lips formed that
delicate pout.
Sam shook his head in a lie. He was always hungry at dinnertime.
"Neither am I." She released his hand and touched his
lips with her finger. Taking another step closer, she breathed, "But I do
have a craving for something sweet."
Heat rushed through Sam's veins and his body reacted immediately
and potently. No, he wasn't dead by a long shot. Unless he was missing the
mark, Eden was as eager for something to develop between them as he was. He
might miss the signal, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity to see if he
was right.
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he drew her solidly up against
him. Her eyes darkened with sultry excitement as she held his gaze. There was
no mistaking his desire pressed between them. Her nostrils flared with
anticipation.
Lowering his head, Sam kissed her. She responded with a growl in
the back of her throat. He didn't know if he'd ever kissed a woman who threw
herself into the act like Eden. She used her teeth and her lips and her tongue
until both of them were breathing hard.
With pauses for breath, she leaned back and made quick work of
Sam's tie and shirt buttons, freeing the tail and pushing the garment off his
shoulders and down his arms.
She ran her hands over his chest and arms appreciatively.
"You're so bumpy in all the right places. Here—" She tested his
biceps. "Here—"That said with her tongue lapping his shoulder.
Sam gritted his teeth.
In a wash of rose perfume, she turned and presented her back.
"My buttons, Sam."
The tiny things taunted him, but he was persistent and laboriously
peeled each one away from its mooring. Her ivory skin was exposed an inch at a
time, until the dress fell away and she stepped out of it, turning back. She
stood before him in a lace-trimmed corset, her breasts spilling over the top
and stealing his breath.
"You're the prettiest thing I've ever seen," he told
her.
She gave him a provocative smile. "Is that the truth?"
"I wouldn't say so if it wasn't."
She leaned in to brush her softness against his chest. Large dusky
nipples peeked over the top of her corset.
With catlike
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