Porter’s back door and heard the lock turn behind it, and as he walked toward the jailhouse, he wondered why he hadn’t kissed her good-night.It wasn’t as if he hadn’t done plenty else.He smiled at the memory of Lark’s responses, still felt the press of her smooth, bare thighs against his ears. Damn, but it had been all he could do not to claim her in the back of that wagon, on that pile of scratchy blankets.She’d have taken fire, pitched beneath him like a wildcat. He knew she thought she’d released all her passion—but she was in for a surprise. She’d barely scratched the surface of what burned beneath this first surrender.But he’d made up his mind to have Lark Morgan in a bed before anyplace else, and until that sacred time came, he’d be content to keep unwinding that watch spring, every chance he got.The jailhouse was dark, meaning Gideon had probably locked up for the night, so Rowdy made his way around back. He smiled, wondering if Lark would stitch up that tear in her bloomers or wear them as they were.He’d find out tomorrow night, after the dance.There were lamps burning in his house, the light glowing yellow at the windows, and he heard Pardner barking and clawing at the door.
