old-fashioned way.” Without warning his mouth settled over her palm, over her injury, warm and firm.
The unexpectedness of it caused her to curl her hand involuntarily; she found her fingers cupping his face. Before she could move, he clamped his hand over hers preventing her from moving it away. His gaze locked with hers. She could not break it. She felt helpless, unable to move as she was drawn deeper into that compelling golden intensity.
He was just extracting a splinter, for heaven’s sake. She closed her eyes to shut him out.
It was a mistake.
Without that glittering predator gaze on her, her other senses were free. Free? They ran rampant, though she didn’t move a muscle. His unshaven jaw was hard and prickled deliciously against her soft palm. His tongue explored her skin, delicately, almost sensuously. Every tiny motion rippled through her body and gathered momentum, setting off strange quivers deep inside her. Her toes, locked in her sensible half boots, curled. A long shudder rippled up her spine and her knees felt suddenly weak. She found herself clutching his arm with her other hand.
He moved, angling his body around her, to get a better grip, she supposed, but oh! He was so close. His big, hard body was half wrapped around her.
She tried not to notice, to block it out as she had with the pain—he was just extracting a splinter—but the intense heat of him seeped into her, making her feel helpless, itchy, restless. His skin was cool but it warmed under her touch. Her fingers moved of their own accord against the hard line of his jawbone, testing that delicious abrasiveness again. She willed them to be still.
Dominic moved, bringing her closer. Slender, soft, and unwillingly aroused. He could smell the moist female scent of her. His pulse leapt in response. He clamped down on it, hard. Now was not the time. Not while she was in pain.
This enchanting little freckled companion would be his. There was no question in his mind.
He breathed in the scent of her again; she was intoxicating. Her small, soft palm cupped his jaw delicately, tentatively. He felt her hesitate, felt her fingers flutter under his, half nervousness and half exploration, and he smiled.
It would be good between them. Better than good. She was shy, she was inexperienced, but he knew: she was becoming aroused. He could sense it.
He closed his eyes briefly and let his mouth and tongue explore her palm, seeking the precise angle of the splinter’s entry. The taste of her skin, of her blood, sparked something deep inside him, arousing his more primitive instincts. He forced them back under control.
His teeth bit gently down, pressing the fleshy part just below her thumb, where the splinter was lodged. He knew it must hurt, but she gave no sign. He let his tongue circle the spot, soothing, teasing, pleasuring her shamelessly. Her body softened against him, and he felt the delicate, subtle shivers that she tried so hard to hide from him. He pulled her closer and felt her stiffen, then gradually soften again. Oh yes, she would be his very soon.
He positioned her hand carefully, intensified the pleasure and then, without warning, sucked hard. She gasped at the mixture of pain and unexpected pleasure, and then suddenly he was gripping the end of the splinter between his teeth and drawing it firmly, smoothly out.
He spat it out into his other hand. “A big one. Let’s see if anything was left behind.” He lifted her hand to the light again. “It doesn’t do to leave even the tiniest splinter in. I knew a man who died of a splinter once. Went septic on him and poisoned him in the end.”
“Thank you for the reassurance,” she said dryly.
He liked that tart astringency about her. She was flushed and flustered, yet determined he wouldn’t see it. She would not come to him easily. The predator in him smiled. He liked it that she would be no easy conquest.
He scrutinized her palm with dispassion. “I can’t see anything,” he told
The unexpectedness of it caused her to curl her hand involuntarily; she found her fingers cupping his face. Before she could move, he clamped his hand over hers preventing her from moving it away. His gaze locked with hers. She could not break it. She felt helpless, unable to move as she was drawn deeper into that compelling golden intensity.
He was just extracting a splinter, for heaven’s sake. She closed her eyes to shut him out.
It was a mistake.
Without that glittering predator gaze on her, her other senses were free. Free? They ran rampant, though she didn’t move a muscle. His unshaven jaw was hard and prickled deliciously against her soft palm. His tongue explored her skin, delicately, almost sensuously. Every tiny motion rippled through her body and gathered momentum, setting off strange quivers deep inside her. Her toes, locked in her sensible half boots, curled. A long shudder rippled up her spine and her knees felt suddenly weak. She found herself clutching his arm with her other hand.
He moved, angling his body around her, to get a better grip, she supposed, but oh! He was so close. His big, hard body was half wrapped around her.
She tried not to notice, to block it out as she had with the pain—he was just extracting a splinter—but the intense heat of him seeped into her, making her feel helpless, itchy, restless. His skin was cool but it warmed under her touch. Her fingers moved of their own accord against the hard line of his jawbone, testing that delicious abrasiveness again. She willed them to be still.
Dominic moved, bringing her closer. Slender, soft, and unwillingly aroused. He could smell the moist female scent of her. His pulse leapt in response. He clamped down on it, hard. Now was not the time. Not while she was in pain.
This enchanting little freckled companion would be his. There was no question in his mind.
He breathed in the scent of her again; she was intoxicating. Her small, soft palm cupped his jaw delicately, tentatively. He felt her hesitate, felt her fingers flutter under his, half nervousness and half exploration, and he smiled.
It would be good between them. Better than good. She was shy, she was inexperienced, but he knew: she was becoming aroused. He could sense it.
He closed his eyes briefly and let his mouth and tongue explore her palm, seeking the precise angle of the splinter’s entry. The taste of her skin, of her blood, sparked something deep inside him, arousing his more primitive instincts. He forced them back under control.
His teeth bit gently down, pressing the fleshy part just below her thumb, where the splinter was lodged. He knew it must hurt, but she gave no sign. He let his tongue circle the spot, soothing, teasing, pleasuring her shamelessly. Her body softened against him, and he felt the delicate, subtle shivers that she tried so hard to hide from him. He pulled her closer and felt her stiffen, then gradually soften again. Oh yes, she would be his very soon.
He positioned her hand carefully, intensified the pleasure and then, without warning, sucked hard. She gasped at the mixture of pain and unexpected pleasure, and then suddenly he was gripping the end of the splinter between his teeth and drawing it firmly, smoothly out.
He spat it out into his other hand. “A big one. Let’s see if anything was left behind.” He lifted her hand to the light again. “It doesn’t do to leave even the tiniest splinter in. I knew a man who died of a splinter once. Went septic on him and poisoned him in the end.”
“Thank you for the reassurance,” she said dryly.
He liked that tart astringency about her. She was flushed and flustered, yet determined he wouldn’t see it. She would not come to him easily. The predator in him smiled. He liked it that she would be no easy conquest.
He scrutinized her palm with dispassion. “I can’t see anything,” he told
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