as he passed her. "I didn't wait thirty years for you to be my wife, sleeping in the same bed, to screw it up with some demon cooties."
From the corner of his eye he saw her quietly giggle be hind her hand. He turned on the shower full blast and hollered over the spray as she stood in the doorway.
"See, I can deal with delayed gratification - so I can wait you out. If you need to stay mad at me for blowing away some bad vamp types with crazy Rivera, I can accept that. I'm philosophical. Because you see, I can recall a time when I was soooo horny for you, missed you soooo bad that... hey, darlin', I'd just about dry hump a haystack trying to pre
tend it was you."
"Oh, Rider, just stop it," she said blushing, but coming farther into the bathroom.
"I bullshit you not, lovely lady. I would go to sleep drunk as a skunk, and wake up hollering for ya." He looked down again and then grinned. "This ain't nothing, it'll keep." Tara swallowed hard as he turned into the spray. She watched the water run through his dirty-blond hair and course over his muscular shoulders. She loved his voice and wished he'd say something else, just so she could hear it echo through the bathroom. He made her laugh, he made her cry, he made her shout, he made her gasp, he made her crazy - God, she loved her some Jack Rider.
It was hard to watch him soap himself down without going to him. His humorous banter always had a zing to it, and the way that man could turn a phrase when he was serious ... whew. And if he said those wonderful things while he made her look into his intense hazel eyes, she might have to break down and jump his bones.
Butterflies had escaped in her belly and the dense humid ity in the bathroom was making her hair cling to her neck and shoulders.
"All right, I admit it. You weren't alone in that missing-somebody department."
"Huh? What did you say?" Rider chuckled and spun around to peer over the door at her.
"Miss you? No, wrong word completely. Crave. That's it. Tara, I craved you. That was insane. It was easy to give up thirty-five years or so of smoking Marlboro Reds ... Jack Daniel's, too, no problem, compared to giving you up? Sheeit." He stared at her, smiling, but his eyes were serious. "That was like giving up a kidney, maybe a lung."
"It wasn't that easy for me, either," she said, her tone sud denly sad. She opened the shower door just to see him better, and so he could hear her. At least that's what she told herself.
But she wasn't prepared for his stone-serious expression that didn't match the upbeat tone of his voice. Nor was she prepared for the way his arms just opened up for her to fill them without anything being said. His shudder when she touched him said it all. And when his fingers tangled in her hair with soap, memory snapped back so hard she cried out.
"That's right, baby, our first time was me washing your hair ... lemme do it again ... this
time over the side of the tub like before . .. with nothing between us ... no jeans, no sundress." He nuzzled her neck as his hands aggressively traveled over her spine and the swell of her behind. "Laven der, oh, God, the lavender you wore ... just a passing whiff from a florist gives me wood. You're right; I'm completely insane for you." She took his mouth and kissed him hard, unable to forget a single moment they'd spent together before she'd turned, and so many moments after. She found the sweet spot on his neck where she'd marked him, and the sound that escaped him ran all through her. His wide palms were spreading heat through her body as they swept across her in slippery strokes. She wanted to climb up him, but he wouldn't let her and the frustration of his denial sent her hands over his hard body in a frantic rush.
But he took her mouth slowly, his tongue in charge, danc ing in a slow waltz that made her go limp in his hold.
"Let me wash your hair and take my time, darlin', until you holler."
* * *
it was gonna be a long night. Carlos watched Damali march around the suite with a smudge stick