Page 527 of Summer Heat
“Exactly.”
The Ferris wheel groaned, suddenly and loudly. Tamara jumped, her eyes flying to the ground. Instantly, she closed her eyes and took a breath. “What was the last classic you read?”
Silently, Lance cheered her self-control. She was scared out of her mind, but she was handling it. “Must have been something in college. I don’t do classics.” He chuckled. “I know you’re surprised.”
She looked at him. “Actually you do surprise me quite a lot.”
“Do I?” he asked huskily—and snagged a kiss. Just a quick, light one—and like an hors d’oeuvre, it only made him hungrier. “Like that?”
“No. I’d expect you to steal kisses. I wouldn’t expect you to read much of anything.”
“Everybody reads.”
She laughed. “Not hardly.”
“Well, in my family they do. We don’t read the same things, now. Tyler is the only serious reader—the only one who feeds on literature and all that rot, but we all have our little corners of obsession. I can’t sleep if I don’t read for a little while.”
“Really?”
He didn’t know if he should be offended or not. Did he seem that stupid? He decided to let it go—the world was full of stereotypes about construction workers, and it was something he’d learned to live with. “My mother read to us every night before we went to sleep. It got to be a habit for all of us.”
“That’s great.” Her hand had at last eased a little on his thigh, and she felt brave enough she put both hands on the rail in front of them. “Where did you go to school?”
“Rice. My dad wanted me to do Harvard or one of those big eastern schools, but I chose to go to Texas instead.”
“Rice?” she echoed, faintly disbelieving. “I wonder how I missed knowing that about you.”
This time, he could tease her. “You just think us pretty boys are only good for one thing. You forget about our brains.”
She didn’t smile. It seemed, actually, to disturb her. “With an education like that, why did you stay in construction?”
“That’s easy. I love it.” He gestured toward the mountain. “It causes me some conflicts sometimes, but there’s a thrill in building things that I haven’t found in anything else. You build something right and it can stand for centuries. Do it wrong, and it’s an eyesore for even longer.”
“I never thought about it like that.” She smiled. “That’s beautiful.”
And even if it was what she expected, Lance couldn’t resist. “So are you,” he said, and kissed her again. This time, she kissed him back, eagerly, and he moved slowly to pull her close to him, cradling her head in the crook of his elbow, putting his hand under her jacket. “I love kissing you,” he said.
“I like it, too.” She lifted a hand to his face. “It makes me feel alive.” And this time, she drew him close to her and put her lips against his.
Lance gave himself up to the spell she always cast over him. Gave himself up to the wild moment, trapped high in the night sky with this sweet and prickly woman. He moved his hand on her waist, restlessly, feeling a thick arousal burning through his groin. Slowly, giving her plenty of time to stop him, he moved his hand higher, brushing the lower edge of her breast.
She only lifted a hand to his chest and tilted her head to give him deeper access to her mouth, and Lance lifted his hand and covered her breast, cloaked as it was in the soft cotton shirt.
And he didn’t know why he was surprised, but the flesh filled his hand exactly. He made a low sound at the discovery, and rubbed lightly across the nipple that nudged his palm. Her breath caught and she pulled away from his kiss.
He didn’t move his hand as her gaze and his met, and caught. Feeling unlike himself, he slowly stroked the rigid point through her shirt, watching the reaction in her eyes. Her pupils dilated, and her lips parted on a gasp as he plucked it a little.
Her hand moved on his thigh, moved upward, barely teasing his erection through his jeans, and Lance kissed her again, unable to let her look into his eyes for fear of what he would reveal. With a soft groan, he moved his hand under her shirt, feeling electrified at the satiny texture of her skin. He explored a little, and moved back up, knowing she was shielded from view by her jacket and the great distance to the ground. He encountered her bra, and hastily tugged it out of his way, letting her breast fall from its case. The nubby flesh touched his thumb, and Lance grasped it.
And now her hand moved higher, moved to stroke him, as he ached to have her do. She, too, was stealthy and mindful of the crowd far below, so her movements were slow, firm—excruciating.
Just then, the Ferris wheel moved. It didn’t grind or jerk, but simply started a smooth, slow descent. Lance jerked his hand away, as Tamara did. They lifted their heads.
And laughed. “Typical,” Lance said.
Tamara grinned. The grin was edged with a hazy eroticism and genuine humor. “Curses.” She shifted away from him as the car came to a stop at the bottom.
“Sorry about that, folks,” the operator said.
