Fire and Rain (18 page)

 "I didn't ask you to say no, did I?" Carla laughed unhappily and made a grab for the washcloth. "Never mind, Luke. I don't blame you. In your shoes I don't suppose I'd be dying for another round of amateur hour, either."

 The savage word he said made her wince.

 "That's not what I meant and you know it," Luke said between clenched teeth. "Damn it, Carla,
help me.
I'm trying not to ruin your life!"

 "Of course," she said, her voice sad and empty and utterly disbelieving.

 The unhappiness in Carla's face and tone affected Luke as deeply as the passion that was making her tremble.

 "Baby, please … don't do this to me."

 The yearning, husky timbre of Luke's voice made Carla bite back tears. Automatically she reached out to him in pain and sympathy and a need that transcended even the desire she felt for him. When her fingers touched his chest a visible shudder of response went through him.

 "Luke, I—"

 "Too late," he interrupted heavily. "It always seems to be too late with you. All you have to do is touch me and I burn. I should say no to you. I know it. But I can't. Give me your mouth, baby. It's a lifetime since I kissed you."

 Luke's free hand threaded into the silky curls of Carla's hair, seeking the warmth of her scalp, pulling her head back as he lowered his mouth over hers. His tongue probed her lips until she sighed and he slid into her eager warmth. The kiss was deep, heavy, drenched with the sensuality Luke had spent years trying to control around Carla.

 But no longer. The past was as cold as the future would be, but the present was here, now, and it seethed with fire.

 When Luke finally ended the kiss, separating himself from Carla, she whimpered softly, wanting more. The sweet sound made him smile, but he didn't take up the flushed invitation of her lips. Keeping his, hands off her was impossible, but he would at least control the way he touched her. A few more kisses like that and he would lose his head as he had last night, taking her without protecting her.

 "I didn't tell you what it was like for me last night," Luke said, slowly rubbing the soapy cloth over Carla's shoulders, her neck, her arms. "I don't know if I can tell you. I'm damned sure I shouldn't even try, but shouldn't doesn't seem to cut much ice when it comes to you, sunshine."

 Luke's crooked smile tugged at Carla's heart, making her want to smile and cry in return. She started to speak but the words wedged in her throat when the warm cloth moved over her breasts and they tightened in a wild, aching rush.

 The sound of the cloth being rinsed out blended with the gently seething rain. After a few moments Luke laid aside the cloth and soaped up his hands instead.

 "I barely touched you last night," Luke said. He smiled at Carla's look of shocked disbelief. "It's true, baby. I should have made it last forever. I wanted to, but you made me lose my head. You're making shreds of my control now. Look."

 He held up his soapy hands, revealing their fine tremor.

 "But I didn't mean to," she said. "I don't even know how to. It's just that when you touch me—"

 The words became a moan as his hands found her taut breasts and began smoothing over them in warm, soapy caresses.

 "I love hearing your breath break when I touch you," Luke murmured. "I love feeling your breasts rise to meet my hands. I love feeling your nipples harden. I love knowing that your heart is beating faster and your breath—"

 Carla tried to speak, but all that came out was a husky sound of pleasure when his fingers teased her, making her nipples harden even more.

 "—your breath is coming faster," he whispered. "I love that, too. I love knowing you're as helpless to control your body when I touch you as I am when you touch me."

 The gentle, irresistible tugging of Luke's fingers made a wild shiver course visibly through Carla's body. His eyes narrowed into glittering topaz slits as he felt an answering thrill race through his own flesh. An odd, consuming curiosity bloomed in him as he dipped his hands in warm water and rubbed up a mound of lather before turning back to her.

 "Baby?" Luke whispered against Carla's mouth, finding her nipples, tugging at them. "What does it feel like when I do this to you?"

 "Like—" She made a breathless sound and lifted herself into his touch, twisting slowly, increasing the pressure of his caress.

 "Tell me," he coaxed.

 "Fire," she whispered. "A glittering kind of fire going all the way to my knees."

 Strong hands followed Carla's words, moving slowly, caressing and bathing her in consuming intimacy. His fingers slid delicately between her legs, bringing pleasure even as they gently washed away all signs that she had given herself to a man for the first time only a handful of hours ago.

 For long, wild moments there was only the sound of Carla's ragged moans and Luke's hands gliding over her body and the rain outside softly sliding over hard stone. When Luke knew his control could take no more, he reluctantly turned away, grabbed the washrag with fingers that insisted on trembling, and rinsed the cloth thoroughly. He rinsed Carla just as thoroughly, bringing the clear water to her skin again and again, touching her as impersonally as he could until not a bit of soap remained; and still he rinsed her, for it was his only excuse to touch her.

 "Luke?" Carla asked finally, not understanding.

 She could see by the tension of his face and the occasional tremor in his hands that he was aroused, yet nothing caressed her except warm water and the soft cloth.

 "Hold still, sunshine. I'm almost done."

 His voice was deep, husky with the pounding of his blood.

 "Does that mean I get to bathe you next?"

 The thought of Carla's hands touching him as intimately as he had touched her made Luke groan and swear at the same time. After a final, unnecessary passage of the washcloth over the dark, damp triangle at the apex of Carla's thighs, Luke very delicately ran his fingertip between her legs, smiling and aching at her response.

 "Bathing me would be a bad idea," he said hoarsely.

 "Why? Wouldn't you like it?"

 "I'd like it too much. I'd lose control."

 Carla's eyes widened.

 "It's always been that way with you," Luke said simply. "I was afraid if I ever touched you, I'd have to fight myself to let you go. The first time I touched you, you ran. If you hadn't, I'd have laid you down in front of the fireplace and taken you. The second time I touched you, you didn't run. I had a hell of a battle with myself, sunshine. Since that night I've dreamed of having you in my lap again, only this time your body would fit me like a hot satin glove…"

 Luke's voice frayed. For a few moments there was silence while he visibly fought for self-control.

 "So I didn't touch you after that night in the dining room," Luke continued roughly. "Until last night."

 "But I wanted you to touch me," Carla whispered. "I wanted it so much I would wake up in the middle of the night and ache. For you, Luke. For you."

 The words sent a hammer blow of need through Luke that brought him to his knees. He put his forehead against Carla and fought for control.

 "I'm aching so much now," she said huskily. "I hurt. Make the ache go away, Luke."

 "Baby … oh, God … don't…"

"Please Luke," Carla whispered, shivering. "Love me."

 Luke's fingers bit painfully into the resilient curves of Carla's hips. He shuddered once, a whiplash of violent need and restraint. Then the grip of his fingers eased and he began smoothing up and down the back of her legs, her hips, her waist. He kissed the scented valley between her breasts, moving his face slowly from side to side, caressing her with his hair, his cheeks, his lips. The lazy, sensual savoring made her tremble.

 Luke turned his face once more and Carla felt the unexpected, velvet rasp of his mouth across the tip of her breast. Her breath fragmented into a moan of surprise and pleasure.

 "I wanted to do this last night," Luke said, punctuating each word with teasing licks and tiny bites, "but I was too hungry for you."

 Slowly he nuzzled the resilient, scented flesh, tasting Carla, tracing the line where smooth skin became textured velvet nipple. Sensations splintered through her as his tongue teased and tempted and shaped her. She sank her fingers into his hair and held him close, wanting to give herself to him, afraid that he would stop caressing her and turn away.

 Luke's big hands smoothed down Carla's legs, then back up again. His long fingers flexed into her thighs, her hips, the graceful length of her back, kneading her with a slow, consuming sensuality that matched the rhythm of his mouth transforming her breasts into burning centers of sensation. After a long, long time he lifted his head and admired the flushed, glistening peaks.

 "So beautiful," Luke murmured.

 "Don't stop," Carla pleaded.

 "Not a chance," he said, smiling with bittersweet acceptance. "I've hardly even begun."

 He let the warmth of his breath rush over one sensitized breast. The tip of his tongue touched the hard nipple and then circled her in a tender caress that made her tremble. His tongue tasted her again, delicately, before his teeth closed on her with exquisite care. The whimper that came from her lips owed nothing to pain, everything to the pleasure that was licking over her in shimmering cascades of fire.

 "I've wanted to do this since I saw you run in from a rain shower with your shirt sticking to you and your nipples standing up so proud and hard," Luke said huskily, turning to Carla's other breast, taking its peak into his warm mouth.

 "Why didn't you?" She shivered with pleasure. "I wouldn't have minded."

 "You were barely sixteen."

 Carla's body stiffened in shock. "You wanted me that long ago?"

 "Yes," he whispered, burying his face in her breasts, turning his head caressingly from side to side. "I wanted you until I could have screamed with it. But I shoved it down, buried it, ignored it, because I wanted something else even more."

 "My brother's friendship?" Carla guessed.

 "And yours." Luke kissed the swollen pink tip of first one breast, then the other. "When you and Cash were on the Rocking M, it was as close to a real family as I ever came. I needed that more than I needed sex."

 "You can have both now."

 "It doesn't work that way, sunshine," Luke whispered, his eyes narrowed against memories. "Not on the Rocking M."

 Before Carla could ask Luke what he meant, one lean hand slid between her legs, seeking the softness that was concealed by dark curls. Her thoughts scattered as she felt again the gentle, probing caress of his fingertips. When he tested her silken depths, his name rushed between her parted lips in a startled cry as her knees gave way.

 A few instants later Carla found herself back on the sleeping bag with Luke smiling down at her.

 "You look surprised," he murmured. "Didn't anyone ever warn you that your knees can give way?"

 "I didn't believe them," she admitted huskily. "I do now. You turn my bones to honey."

 Luke's eyes closed and his breath came in with a swift, husky sound as he bent over Carla and whispered, "Turn to honey for me. Let me taste your sweetness."

 He kissed the sensitive curves of her ears, of her lips, of her breasts. Her navel fascinated him. He returned to the shadowed dimple again and again, probing with the sleek tip of his tongue, biting gently, making her moan with the unexpected sensations radiating out from her core. His caresses were like raindrops, a brushing of his mouth over her skin and then another brush and another until sensations overlapped and ran together, no beginning and no end, just heat gathering and rippling over her body, making her twist in slow motion as pleasure gathered, filling her until she moaned.

 The touch of his tongue and the edge of his teeth on her legs came as a surprise and a very sharp pleasure. The warm pressure of his palms parting her thighs was another kind of caress, another kind of pleasure. When he pressed harder in silent request, asking that she open herself to him, she gave herself with a graceful abandon that nearly undid him. Slowly he bent down, tasting her with an intimate caress that made her cry out in surprise and passion.

 "It's all right," Luke murmured, brushing the sensitive inner surface of Carla's thighs with his cheeks, gentling her even as his teeth took tiny, tiny bites of her softness. "You're all honey," he breathed against her. "So sweet. Don't fight me, sunshine. Let me have you this way. No risk, no pain, just … this."

 The melting caress Luke gave Carla tore a wild, low cry from her throat. He traced her softness very lightly, silently coaxing and reassuring her. Then his caresses changed, urging her rather than seducing, demanding rather than gentling, consuming her in a shattering intimacy that brought her to ecstasy again and again, his dark words and her rippling cries blending with the falling rain, until finally she lay spent and trembling in the aftermath of wild ecstasy.

 Only then did Luke lay beside Carla, hold her, gently kiss the tears from her eyelashes.

 "Don't do this to me again, sunshine," Luke whispered, not knowing if Carla heard. "
Please. Don't
."

~15~

Even weeks later, the memory of that morning in September Canyon made Carla's breath catch. Luke had given her so much and had taken nothing for himself. Nor had he allowed her to give him anything in return. When she had calmed enough to draw a breath without having it break into fragments, he had stood up and walked out into the rain, leaving her alone with the echoes of his whispered plea.

 
Don't do this to me again, sunshine. Please. Don't.

 Luke had done everything possible to make certain neither one of them was tempted into revisiting the passionate landscape of their dreams. He worked long days out on the range, getting up before dawn and rarely returning to the big house before ten o'clock. At meals he spoke to Carla when courtesy or necessity required it. Beyond that he said nothing to her.

 And he walked across the room to avoid touching her.

 At first Carla had thought that Luke's deliberate distancing of himself from her would pass, that he would allow himself to talk to her, to touch her, to be touched by her in more than physical ways. But hours had become days and days had become weeks. Luke hadn't relented. If anything, he had become more accomplished at evading even the remote chance of being alone with her. Day after day he eluded her until all her days on the Rocking M were gone.