Ride Rough - Tessa Layne Page 0,34

of the counter. This was a first. Who knew a simple offer of washing dishes would be So. Fucking. Sexy?? As was the tone of his voice, which brooked no argument. "And," he continued, tongue flicking a path to her collarbone. "Then I'm going to take you home and give you a bath."

"I thought you were heading to the Trading Post?" she protested weakly, because the idea of letting him give her a bath was at once titillating and terrifying.

His hand came to her hip in a firm caress. "A little birdie mentioned it's not really your scene."

Izzie? She needed to have a conversation with her about meddling, however good her intentions. "It's not."

"And your feet need Epsom salts."

"What are you? Some kind of a doctor?"

"No. But I play one on T.V.," he teased, pulling a laugh from her. "And if you're a good girl, I might just give you that spanking you've been fantasizing about," he finished, giving the sensitive flesh at her collarbone a nip, then a slow kiss.

How did he know? Her nipples peaked, aching to be nipped and tugged, and it took all her willpower to not lean back into his hard frame and let him have his way right here in Dottie's kitchen. Her pulse raced with anticipation.

"Hmm. Tempting." The ball was clearly in her court. All she had to do was say yes, and she could walk on the wild side.

His arm slid across her front, hand splaying across her ribs. "Cecilia," he said again, voice warm and dark and oh, so, sexy. She turned her face toward the sound, sighing as he peppered her jawline with featherlight kisses. "Step away from the counter."

Her hand covered his, and he immediately laced his fingers through hers, gently pulling her from the counter. He stepped around her, maneuvering his body so that she was wrapped in his embrace. Instinctively, she lifted her chin, too far under his spell to put off the inevitable. His mouth was gentle against hers, tender even. A riot of feeling exploded in her chest as his tongue teased her mouth open. Men like him weren't real. But Trace was definitely kissing her. And his heart underneath her hand was thumping as real and as hard as hers... And kissing him felt so, so good, and so surprisingly right. She wanted more. She wanted all of it. "Okay," she whispered when they separated, as much to herself as to him. Her stomach fluttered as the words burned on her tongue. "I'll let you take care of me."

Chapter Fifteen

Trace could lose himself forever in her beautiful brown eyes. The way she stared at him now with that same hopeful, hungry, fearful expression from earlier went right to his soul. The scared kitten was taking a chance on trusting him, and by god, he wouldn't let her down. Not if he could help it. When are you going to tell her the truth? He could just hear Portia's inevitable question. There was time yet. One step at a time. Once she fully trusted him, she'd understand why he had to keep his identity secret.

He kissed her again, because how could he resist the pull of her? After thoroughly exploring her mouth he eased back, giving her hand a tug and leading her to the table where he pulled out a chair. "Sit." He pulled back another. "Feet."

"Ooh, so caveman of you," she teased with a soft smile. There was no challenge in her voice, only amusement, and her eyes bright and sparkling.

"Don't move." He grabbed her flute from the counter and refilled it. Then poured himself a glass.

"You don't have to wear the apron, you know," Cecilia said as she took the glass he offered. "I was only teasing."

"You think it bothers me?" He drained half his glass before setting it back on the counter and returning to the dishes.

"No." Her voice lingered on the oh, as if she wasn't exactly sure.

He braced his arms on the edge of the sink, suddenly overcome with everything he wanted to tell her and couldn't. "I'm my own man, Cecilia," he said a little too roughly. "I know what you're playing at - testing me with all the pushing and arguing - but it won't erase the chemistry between us, or chase me off." He turned to her. "And it certainly won't make me wear a silly blue apron unless I decide I want to wear it. Got it?"

Cecilia's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. "Oh." She spoke