Turn and Burn (Blacktop Cowboys 5)

Tanna stepped into the glass- and black-tiled bathroom and envy burst through her. This reminded her of the bathroom at the ranch. Three showerheads had been placed at different heights and the opaque glass door could slide back for an open shower, or closed for a more intimate one. The vanity had two hammered copper sinks and the countertop height would graze the bottom of her rib cage. But it obviously was the right height for Fletch. The toilet was in an enclosed area with a pocket door. The entire top half of the wall opposite the mirror and vanity was windows. “Doesn’t it get cold in here in the winter with all these windows?”

“Not really. The glass is thermo-pane so it keeps the hot air in.”

They crossed the expanse of the bedroom back to the hallway and kept walking to another door.

The office was half the size of the great room. One whole wall was floor to ceiling bookshelves, filled with books. “Holy cow. Have you read all those?”

“Most. I have an extensive library of research books. Although I deal primarily with large animals, stuff comes up that I’ve never dealt with before so I need a frame of reference. And I like to have it at my fingertips.”

This office had everything. Plush carpet. Shades that could block out the sun completely. A flat-screen TV was suspended on the wall. A big computer monitor sat on the center of the desk. A fax machine, a scanner, two printers were stacked alongside the keyboard. She glanced at him. “Do you work from home very much?”

“Mostly on the weekends. Some clients have video cameras and can upload live video links to their animals, which is handy because sometimes I can diagnose over the Internet in real time. That ability has saved me several trips.” He sighed. “I should work from here more often since this is actually a lot nicer than my office space in Rawlins.”

She frowned. So why wouldn’t he want all this information at his fingertips when he was doing research? Why would he leave it all behind on sabbatical and shack up in a crappy trailer?

Because you’re there.

That awareness froze her in place. Fletch knew she wouldn’t make the drive to Rawlins during his vacation time, so he came to her, because he’d made no bones about wanting her.

Seeing all he was giving up? Just for a chance to be with her, even temporarily? Talk about humbling.

She smiled at him brightly to hide her self-consciousness.

His eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What?”

“How long have you lived in this gorgeous place?”

“Four years. Holt worked on the design for six months after I bought the land. We were both happy with how it turned out.”

“You should be.” Tanna reached up to sift her fingers through his hair. So thick and long. She loved the way it trailed along over her skin as he kissed down her torso. She dug her nails into the back of his neck and yanked his mouth to hers for a hot, wet kiss.

They eased back simultaneously from the kiss that’d left them both breathless.

Then Fletch’s hands were cupping her face, angling her head to peer into her eyes. “Have you eaten?”

“No.”

“Will you let me feed you?”

Did he mean literally?

His eyes were dark with an odd male possession, as if he’d prefer she turn herself over to his care, but he wouldn’t demand it.

“Yes.”

“I want you to stay with me tonight.”

“I’d like that,” she admitted softly.

“Good.” Fletch placed the warmest, sweetest kiss on her lips. “Come to the kitchen.” Clasping her hand, he led her through an arched doorway. Then he plucked her up and set her on the counter. “Don’t move. I’ll bring the food to you.”

Tanna watched as he sliced peppered salami and a hard white cheese swirled with yellow. He cut heavily grained bread into rectangles and halved cherry tomatoes. He added green olives and tiny sweet pickles. He squirted mustard, mayonnaise and pesto on a plate, spreading the colors out in an artist’s palette. He cracked open a dark bottle and held it to her lips.

“It’s hard cider. It’ll go well with the light bites.”

She sipped and the bubbles burst on her tongue. It tasted like fizzy citrus beer. “Mmm.”

Fletch knocked back a mouthful. Then he inserted himself between her legs and tugged her forward until their pelvises were aligned. When Tanna moved her palms to his hips, he shook his head and brought her hands up. “I touch you.” He kissed her knuckles. “I feed you.” He kissed her other hand. “You just sit there and let me see to you.”

The indignation she expected never came.

He began to feed her. A piece of bread dipped in pesto. An olive and a piece of cheese. A sip of cider. While he fed her, he touched her. First, a brush of his fingers down her neck. Next he dragged the backs of his knuckles across her collarbone. Smoothing her hair away from her face. Following her jawline while she chewed. Trailing his fingertips up and down her arms. Sweeping his thumb across the crease in her elbow.

Her heart raced. The excitement from his unwavering attention made her pulse pound and she felt it everywhere. On her lips. In her throat. Between her thighs.

The gentle nuzzles, the stolen kisses, the way his breath fanned across her damp skin or teased her ear—every inch of her skin was highly sensitized, eager for his touch.

And Fletch kept nurturing her body and soul. A bite of sweet pickle. A chunk of meat dipped in mayo. A tangy piece of tomato. Interspersing kisses and licks and soft smooches.