Page 18 of Fast Currents
“Thirty minutes,” Lucy responded, transferring clay creations to the back table we’d set up for drying.
“Thank god there’s only one more.” I shuddered. “I’m not cut out for this.” A giggle popped out before Lucy squelched it. I narrowed my eyes. “What? I’m shocked you’re so calm. That was a lot of little kids.” I twitched. “So much clay.”
She patted my cheek, eyes dancing. “Don’t quit your day job, Robertson.”
My heart stalled. Her palm was soft against my jaw. She didn’t seem to realize it was the first time she touched me by choice. I beat back the instinct to snag her hand and hold it there. That kind of move was sure to get me zapped.
“Never fear. You’ve got job security.”
Lucy arched one dark brow, her expression skeptical. “You sure about that, hotshot? Isn’t that why you’re here? Didn’t you think I needed supervision?”
“No,” I denied swiftly. “But Gran does.”
She chuckled, the sound slow and more sympathetic than joyful. “Oh, Ranger Robertson. You only think you have the authority here.”
Nope. No illusions on that front.
Eyes flashing, pigtails sticking out like flags, every line of her posture challenged me. Made me want more. She crossed her arms.
I spread my legs, letting my thighs fall apart, and patted my knees. Confident and relaxed. Silently taunting.
Her expression sharpened, daring me to take it further.
“Why don’t you come over here and let me give you a taste of how much authority I can wield?”
Goading her was reckless. Addictive. And I was already in too deep to care.
She clicked her tongue gently, mocking me, a tiny smile flirting with her red mouth. “Is that an invitation? What happened to waiting to kiss me until I was ready?”
I snagged her clay-streaked hand, tugging her gently toward me, holding her gaze. “Who said anything about kissing?”
“Yet another question.” Her lips turned down in a playful pout.
She straddled my lap, slowly sinking until her legs wrapped around my waist. I gripped her hips, seating her securely, enjoying the curves of her lush backside pressed against my thighs. Her hands landed naturally at the nape of my neck, toying with the long hair there. She leaned closer, our eyes locked.
“You need a haircut,” she whispered. As if our normal volumes might destroy the moment.
“You offering?” I matched her tone, swaying closer. Our lips almost touched before I diverted to her cheek, nuzzling the soft skin there.
“It’s a brave man who hands me a pair of scissors.”
Or a desperate and foolish one. But I was well past due.
“Would you cut off anything I can’t live without, Lucifer?”
She arched into me, pressing her hips forward. The move exposed her neck, and I traced the strong lines with my nose, sliding gently into the hollow at her throat.
“That depends,” she said huskily, tilting to meet my gaze.
“On?”
Her eyes flashed. “If you ever stop asking these damn questions and kiss me already.”
A chuckle rolled out of me, long and low. “Baby, real authority doesn’t come from demands. It comes from leading the people where you want them to go.”
“Sneaky, sneaky.” She hovered nearer, our lips almost grazing. Up close, her eyes were impossibly large. Luminous.
The tell-taledingof the door opening behind us had Lucy scrambling off my lap.
