Only 03 - Only You

dearly, for there was only one layer of cloth between his skin and hers. She was quite naked under the floursack dress.
    Eve’s breath rushed in and stayed until she felt dizzy. She had never imagined that there would be pleasure in a man’s hands on her hips.
    “Your hands,” she said.
    Reno smiled and flexed his fingers again.
    “My hands,” he agreed. Then he bent forward and whispered against Eve’s breasts, “Where else would you like them?”
    “That wasn’t what I meant.”
    She turned away quickly, stepping beyond Reno’s reach. Using the canteen he had brought, she poured just enough water in the basin to cover his hands.
    “Here,” Eve said, putting the basin in Reno’s lap. “Soak your hands.”
    Wryly Reno moved his knees together to make a platform for the basin. As he did, he wondered if Eve really thought putting his hands in a basin would keep them off her warm curves.
    The feel of Eve’s fingers rubbing his scalp made gooseflesh ripple over Reno’s body. In the silence of his mind he cursed his unruly response to this one woman, but he said nothing aloud. If Eve chose to ignore his arousal, he wasn’t going to call attention to it.
    He wanted to give her no more hold over him than he already had. The feel of her fingers buried in his hair and rubbing his scalp was arousing him to the point of pain.
    “Are you cold?” Eve asked when she sensed a faint tremor in Reno.
    “No.”
    Reno’s voice was too husky, but he couldn’t change that any more than he could help watching the play of moonlight and shadow over Eve’s face as she bent and turned, working over him with hands that were surprisingly strong.
    Belatedly Reno remembered the ragged sores he had seen on Eve’s hands from burying the Lyons in a trailside grave. He grabbed one of her hands and turned it over, holding it in the moonlight. Though nearly healed, the skin still showed the cruel marks of the shovel. So did her other palm.
    “Does it hurt?” Reno asked.
    “Not anymore.”
    He released Eve’s hands without a word.
    She gave him a wary look before she turned to the razor. The small sound the folding blade made as she opened it seemed almost loud in the hushed night. She tested the razor’s edge delicately. Despite her care, the razor sliced a shallow line in her skin.
    “Perdition,” she muttered. “Don’t make any sudden movements. The razor is very sharp.”
    Reno’s smile was like a thin slice of moonlight.
    “Cal honed it for me,” Reno said. “That man could put an edge on a brick.”
    Though nothing showed on Eve’s face, Reno sensed the inner tightening of her body.
    “Now what’s wrong?” he asked.
    She looked at him warily, wondering when he had learned to read her so well.
    “Don’t do anything to, er, startle me,” Eve said finally.
    “Such as?”
    “Touch me.”
    “I thought you’d never ask,” Reno drawled, lifting his hands from the water.
    “That’s not what I meant,” Eve said hastily, stepping back out of his reach. “Well, it is, but not that way.”
    “Make up your mind.”
    “I meant that you shouldn’t touch me.”
    Reno’s whole body became still.
    “We have a bargain, gata . Remember?”
    Eve closed her eyes.
    “Yes,” she said. “I remember. I think of little else.”
    Table stakes. Five-card draw. A royal heart flush or a busted heart flush.
    Ante up or get out of the game.
    “I’m not trying to go back on our bargain,” she continued, “but if you start touching me, I’ll get nervous, and this blade is hellishly sharp.”
    Cautiously Eve watched the man who was sitting so still, watching her with a hunger that even darkness couldn’t disguise.
    “I’ll sit very still,” Reno said in a deep voice.
    “All right.”
    She drew a deep, steadying breath and let it out. Reno barely hid the shiver of response that went through him at the warm rush of her breath over his bare chest.
    “Ready?” she asked.
    He laughed. “You have no idea just how ready lam.”
    Eve bent and began shaving Reno with deft, neat motions, wiping the blade on the washcloth every few strokes. As she worked, she tried to tell herself that this was just like a thousand other times when she had shaved Don Lyon. Don had sworn that her hands were his secret luck. They made him look sharp and prosperous before he talked his way into a card game with little more than his aristocratic good looks and a handful of silver coins thatwouldn’t bear close examination.
    “Be very still