ISBN: 9781616502898 | Length: 48,000 words | Ebook Page Count: 149 | Publication Date: July 4, 2011
Copyright 2011, C.L. McCullough
All rights reserved, Lyrical Press, Inc.
Both of them toppled off the stile, Carlos twisting his body to take the brunt of the fall. The air whooshed from his lungs as he hit the ground hard. He’d wrapped Bea in his arms so he could cushion her landing. She lay sprawled over him trying to catch her breath.
He had meant to woo her gently. Carlos Arizon liked women, understood women and he knew this woman required time and patience. Now she lay on him, her breasts crushed against his chest, looking down at him in surprise. He expected her to scramble off, to try to act as if nothing had happened, but once again she surprised him.
“Your hands are on my arse,” she said, not moving.
“My apologies,” he answered, trying not to laugh.
“I accept your apology. Now you will please remove them.”
Her physical exertions had loosened her hair from its restraint. The sun haloed the fine strands caressing her cheeks and neck, painting them copper and gold. Her pale eyes darkened as she studied his face.
Slowly he moved his hands from her butt, one arm encircling her waist, the other moving up her back until he could sink his fingers into her thick hair and guide her mouth to his. What he intended as a tender kiss, an ‘I want to get to know you’ kiss, exploded into passion as soon as their lips touched. It took him several seconds to fight past the feelings overwhelming him to realize she was as willing as he. Her hands cradled his face; her mouth was warm and eager. The scent of her, the feel of her, roused him unbearably.
He wanted to explore her, to find those secret places that would pleasure her, to kiss the line of her jaw and her slender neck and from there find his way to other delights, one kiss at a time, one button at a time. But when he moved to put her under him she drew back, a panicked look upon her face.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “No…”
“Querida,” he wheedled.
She looked as if she would cry. “You deserve more than I can give you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Words are easy, making love is easy in its way. I can’t…I can’t–don’t make me love you. I don’t think I could stand it again.”
She scrambled awkwardly to her feet and hurried away. Carlos lay propped on an elbow and watched her go.
For the first time he became aware of Old Mac grumbling behind the hedgerow, every now and then butting against it. “I think we have the same problem,” he said conversationally. “I have the hope I will handle it better than you did, toro.”
He lay thinking for several more minutes. Then, nodding his head decisively, he rose to his feet, looking down at his bare chest ruefully. First order of business: find something to cover himself.
Then he would beard the lion in its den. What was a lion compared to a horny toro?
