my best, I promise you.”
“So you take me for a fool, is that it? One would have to be a fool to believe that.”
“You’re right. That was stupid of me. Of course, I haven’t tried not to touch you. The truth is that’s almost all I ever think about. You should know I’m conducting a campaign to break down your resistance. To cause you to want me. To have you come to my room.”
“My God,” she managed, her words slightly strangled.
“Is your heart pounding?” He reach under her breast, his hand flat against her midriff, feeling for the throbbing he insisted she knew. “Is it working? Do you lie in bed and think of me? Do you dream about the things we’ve done? Do you remember what it was like? Do you twist and turn at night longing for it to happen again?
Linc watched her closely in the moonlight and wondered if she realized just how easily her feelings could be read. There was no way he was going to believe any denials on her part. She wanted him all right. At least deep down, she did. Linc could only hope he had the patience to wait for her to acknowledge that need. “You might think it a terrible thing, but the truth is, I want you and I believe you feel the same. If you allow it to happen, something deep and strong might grow here.”
“And might not,” she countered.
He shrugged. “That’s true. But we’ll never know unless you give us a try.”
“It’s too late. Bradley will be here tomorrow.”
Linc grinned and gave a gentle shake of his head. “It’s never too late.”
* * * *
It was late. Most in the house slept—most but Abby, who again suffered through hours of extraordinary longing. Still another night saw her awake as dawn inched its way over the horizon, while yet again true rest evaded her.
This couldn’t go on, of course. No one could live with little more than the barest glimpse of sleep each night. She heaved a huge sigh. Despite her resolve to never give in, to never allow the monster this win, she would. There was a need building deep inside. A need that brought on a trembling, beginning at her core to spread out in waves of tremendous almost painful longing that consumed her body, her mind and, perhaps, her soul. A need only he could satisfy. There was no other way.
Abby silently opened the door and stepped into his room. She’d awoken from yet another fitful dream. The last few nights when she’d slept at all, she’d dreamt of him, of his hands, his mouth, the feel of his body against her, the scent of his skin. She couldn’t stand anymore. Her heart pounded; her breath came in soft trembling gasps. She knew she looked a sight, with her hair curling to her waist, tangled into damp knots from hours of restless tossing. She didn’t care.
A quick glance took in the room. It was much the same as hers. Small, it held one narrow bed, a dresser, a table with a pitcher of water and bowl, plus a smaller table with a kerosene lamp set upon it. From across the room, their gazes met and held. Not a word was spoken. A pulse beat in her throat at her daring. She leaned against the door and waited. She’d come this far. She couldn’t take another step without a word from him.
He’d purposely set out to torment her, to force her to put aside her morals, to overcome any barrier and come to him. He’d said as much. Even though she’d insisted she would not, here she stood. She’d suffered in her denial as long as she was able. She couldn’t live through another night of longing, another sleepless wretched night of torture.
He watched her for a long, heart-pounding moment before he rose to a sitting position. As if fearful of frightening her off, he moved slowly, carefully.
She shivered as she took in the sight of him. Long and lean, his chest and arms were slightly tanned. She hadn’t a doubt he was naked beneath the thin blanket that had drifted to lay across his hips. And she could hardly breathe with the need to see more.
Her voice trembled as she broke the
“So you take me for a fool, is that it? One would have to be a fool to believe that.”
“You’re right. That was stupid of me. Of course, I haven’t tried not to touch you. The truth is that’s almost all I ever think about. You should know I’m conducting a campaign to break down your resistance. To cause you to want me. To have you come to my room.”
“My God,” she managed, her words slightly strangled.
“Is your heart pounding?” He reach under her breast, his hand flat against her midriff, feeling for the throbbing he insisted she knew. “Is it working? Do you lie in bed and think of me? Do you dream about the things we’ve done? Do you remember what it was like? Do you twist and turn at night longing for it to happen again?
Linc watched her closely in the moonlight and wondered if she realized just how easily her feelings could be read. There was no way he was going to believe any denials on her part. She wanted him all right. At least deep down, she did. Linc could only hope he had the patience to wait for her to acknowledge that need. “You might think it a terrible thing, but the truth is, I want you and I believe you feel the same. If you allow it to happen, something deep and strong might grow here.”
“And might not,” she countered.
He shrugged. “That’s true. But we’ll never know unless you give us a try.”
“It’s too late. Bradley will be here tomorrow.”
Linc grinned and gave a gentle shake of his head. “It’s never too late.”
* * * *
It was late. Most in the house slept—most but Abby, who again suffered through hours of extraordinary longing. Still another night saw her awake as dawn inched its way over the horizon, while yet again true rest evaded her.
This couldn’t go on, of course. No one could live with little more than the barest glimpse of sleep each night. She heaved a huge sigh. Despite her resolve to never give in, to never allow the monster this win, she would. There was a need building deep inside. A need that brought on a trembling, beginning at her core to spread out in waves of tremendous almost painful longing that consumed her body, her mind and, perhaps, her soul. A need only he could satisfy. There was no other way.
Abby silently opened the door and stepped into his room. She’d awoken from yet another fitful dream. The last few nights when she’d slept at all, she’d dreamt of him, of his hands, his mouth, the feel of his body against her, the scent of his skin. She couldn’t stand anymore. Her heart pounded; her breath came in soft trembling gasps. She knew she looked a sight, with her hair curling to her waist, tangled into damp knots from hours of restless tossing. She didn’t care.
A quick glance took in the room. It was much the same as hers. Small, it held one narrow bed, a dresser, a table with a pitcher of water and bowl, plus a smaller table with a kerosene lamp set upon it. From across the room, their gazes met and held. Not a word was spoken. A pulse beat in her throat at her daring. She leaned against the door and waited. She’d come this far. She couldn’t take another step without a word from him.
He’d purposely set out to torment her, to force her to put aside her morals, to overcome any barrier and come to him. He’d said as much. Even though she’d insisted she would not, here she stood. She’d suffered in her denial as long as she was able. She couldn’t live through another night of longing, another sleepless wretched night of torture.
He watched her for a long, heart-pounding moment before he rose to a sitting position. As if fearful of frightening her off, he moved slowly, carefully.
She shivered as she took in the sight of him. Long and lean, his chest and arms were slightly tanned. She hadn’t a doubt he was naked beneath the thin blanket that had drifted to lay across his hips. And she could hardly breathe with the need to see more.
Her voice trembled as she broke the
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