Range War (9781101559215) by C. J. Cherryh Page A

heard. “You are a good kisser, senor. My instincts tell me you have a lot of experience with the ladies.”
    â€œSome,” Fargo said, and rubbed his wrist against hers.
    Delicia reacted as if a snake had bit her. Jerking her arm away, she whispered, “Be careful, senor. There are some who would be very angry were they to see you making advances.”
    â€œIs that what I’m doing?”
    â€œI am serious,” Delicia said. “Some of the men might do you harm.”
    â€œThey’d have to join the line,” Fargo said.

14
    Along about the middle of the afternoon the storm broke with fierce intensity. For more than an hour the clouds darkened and the wind rose.
    Fargo had stripped the Ovaro and placed his saddle and effects under Porfiro’s wagon. He had just deposited his saddlebags and was about to swing out from under the wagon and knock on the door when the rain began to come down in sheets. Within seconds the ground and everything else was drenched.
    A lithe figure ducked underneath next to him.
    â€œI wondered what was keeping you,” Delicia said, sinking to her knees. Water dripped from her hair and trickled down her cheeks and smooth chin.
    â€œWe’d better get you inside,” Fargo said, and placed his arm over her shoulders.
    â€œNo,” Delicia said.
    â€œNo?”
    She nodded at the downpour and her ruby lips quirked in a smile. “What is your hurry? No one can see us.”
    It was Fargo’s turn to smile. The rain was so heavy, visibility was a few feet. It was as if they were in a cocoon—or their own private little room. As much as he would like to indulge, he said, “Are you sure it’s smart?”
    â€œWhy not?” Delicia sidled closer.
    â€œYour grandfather and grandmother are right above us.”
    â€œSo? If we are quiet they will never know.” Delicia lightly touched her mouth to his neck.
    Fargo could think of a better reason; the storm could end as abruptly as it started. But he’d be damned if he’d look a gift horse in the mouth. Facing her, he cupped her chin. “Last chance to come to your senses.”
    â€œI am a grown woman, senor,” Delicia said, and fused her mouth to his.
    Her lips were delicate, yet firm. She didn’t so much kiss him as devour him. Her tongue rimmed his mouth and entwined with his. Her breath grew molten. And her body, where he touched her, responded with the taut ardor of a carnal nature too long denied.
    Delicia ground against his manhood, her bosom swelling. Her breasts were ripe melons ready to burst from the vine. He cupped one and then the other, and squeezed, and she moaned deep in her velvet throat.
    Easing onto his back with his shoulders propped on his saddle, Fargo pulled her to him. She came willingly, hungrily.
    Her hands were everywhere, exploring. Her mouth roamed from his face to his neck to his ear.
    Fargo liked this gal. She didn’t agonize over whether it was wrong or right; she just did it. He lathered her neck and glued his mouth to hers.
    Wet drops spattered his hand. Some of the rain was getting under but not enough to matter. He ran a hand through her hair and down her back to the curve of her bottom. He massaged, and pinched, and she wriggled in delight.
    â€œI like that,” Delicia breathed huskily.
    So did Fargo. He did it again, then slid a hand along her thigh to her knee. She shivered as if she were cold but her body was as hot as lava.
    â€œI like that, too.”
    Fargo devoted attention to her legs. Each upward motion brought his hand nearer, until finally he covered her, down low.
    Delicia bent into a bow and her mouth parted. So did her legs, to grant him easier access. “I have dreamt of you doing that.”
    Fargo hiked at her dress while kissing and caressing. He was about to undo his belt buckle when a dark shape moved past the wagon. It was there and it was gone. On two legs, so it couldn’t be the Hound.