Not a wise train of thought—especially since what he really wanted had nothing to do with shaking her.
Back off. She’s not your problem. Let her go her own way. Until last night he could have done just that. But now he was concerned. Whether he liked it or not, he cared what happened to her—cared deeply. But anything beyond caring would have to stop right now. He was already treading a thin line. To step over it would mean trouble, not only for him but for Erin.
* * *
Erin slowed the stallion to a walk as they entered the ranch yard. Tearing toward the barn as if in a panic could draw unwanted attention and raise questions she wasn’t ready to answer.
At least Luke hadn’t come after her. A glance over her shoulder confirmed tha
t he’d stayed back and was barely in sight. Maybe he was thinking of her reputation and his own. It was just as well that they hadn’t ridden in together. Even that might have been enough to cause some damaging talk.
She’d be smart to stay away from Luke, she told herself as she rode into the shadow of the stallion barn. The man was a stickler for propriety. But what she found herself wanting from him was anything but proper. She remembered how, after they’d left the wash and returned to mount their horses, pain had stabbed her swollen ankle when she’d tried to put her weight in the stirrup. Without a word, he’d clasped her waist with his big, hard hands, hoisting her high enough to grab the saddle horn and swing her right leg over the cantle.
The pressure of his hands and the brief contact with his body, her breasts skimming his face as he lifted her, had sent a shock of sheer pleasure rocketing through her senses. The feeling had been so intense that she’d swallowed a gasp. Never in her life had she felt anything like it—certainly not with Kyle, not even when he kissed her.
But kissing Kyle was safe. It came packaged with the idea that this was how things would be, maybe for the rest of their lives. Being with Luke held the lure of the forbidden, heightened by a spark of danger.
Even touching him made her blood race.
What would kissing him be like?
But that was only a fantasy. She was a sensible young woman, raised to make the right choices. And Luke was older, a man of experience. He probably saw her as a willful child who’d gone riding off in a huff when he hadn’t told her what she wanted to hear. What she was imagining was out of the question.
She had to stop thinking about it.
* * *
Luke held the bay stallion to a walk, cutting around the periphery of the yard to enter from the back road to the syndicate property. By the time he arrived at the barn, Erin had unsaddled Tesoro and was in his stall, rubbing him down. Leaving her alone for now, he unsaddled the bay stallion, gave him a quick rubdown, checked his food and water, and put him away. When he came out of the stall, Erin was there, her damp hair clinging around her face where her hatband had covered it. Her blazing blue eyes and the set of her jaw told him she still had a score to settle.
“Did you happen to notice whether the new shoes worked for Tesoro?” Her voice was chilly.
“Actually, I did. His gait looked fine. So did Ranger’s.”
“And you have plenty of work for the rest of the day?”
“I do. If I finish early, I’ll have one of the men bring me a few more horses. You won’t have to worry about me, boss.”
He hadn’t meant the last word to sound sarcastic, but the sharp rise of her eyebrows told him that was how she’d taken it. Fine. Let her walk away mad. That would be safer for them both. Here, in the dark, intimate space of the barn it was hard not to imagine taking her in his arms and devouring that sweet, plum-ripe mouth of hers. That, and more—more than enough to get him in serious trouble.
Walk away, girl. Walk away while I still have a hold on myself.
Luke didn’t say the words. He could only hope she was intuitive enough to understand.
She turned to go, then paused and turned back. “Oh—one more thing.” She reached into the hip pocket of her jeans and took out a brass key on a leather thong. “The duplex is ready for you. You can still eat at the bunkhouse, but you won’t have to sleep there anymore.”
“Thanks. And thanks for clearing the place out. I owe you.”
He held out his hand. She dropped the key into it. The metal still held the warmth of her body. He closed his fist around it, then dropped it into his shirt pocket.
Erin hadn’t moved. Her deep blue eyes seemed to hold him suspended, as if he could lose his grip and spiral into their depths. If she didn’t leave now . . .
Without a word, she reached with her right hand and caught the back of his neck. Stretching on tiptoe, she brought her lips up to his.
* * *
Erin felt his resistance, unyielding as stone. Would he thrust her angrily away from him? But no—a groan of surrender rose in his throat. His mouth molded to her kiss, deepening the intimate contact, taking possession. Erin’s pulse exploded. The spark she’d felt earlier, when he’d lifted her into the saddle, became wildfire, racing through her veins to pool its heat in the depths of her body. She reveled in glorious new sensations. Her senses feasted on the warm, salty taste of his mouth, the velvety scrape of his stubble against her face, and the heady aroma of his skin, a blend of sun, sage, and horses.
Erin had experienced the usual necking with high school boys and with Kyle. But the burning need she felt now was unlike anything she’d ever known. She ached for more—to be touched by him, held by him; but his arms remained at his sides, as if some part of him were still determined to resist her. She could almost feel his inner struggle. Where she stood against him, his body was as rigid as steel—warm steel with a pounding heart beneath its surface.