But from the moment his lips touched hers, she was helpless to resist, helpless to stop the tingling of every nerve, the aching in the deepest, most private part of her, helpless to keep from giving a part of herself that had never been touched before.She wanted to tame the fury she’d seen in him, wanted to watch him smile, wanted to dispel the bitter wariness that enveloped him.
She wantedhim!The knowledge was excruciating.She realized from the tenseness in his body that his kiss was as involuntary on his part as it was on hers, spurred by some otherworldly beings who had conspired to bring together two people who should never have met.
But she was drowning in the essence of him.His hair was damp, curling around her fingers.She felt tremors course through his body as his kiss deepened, his tongue teasing and playing, arousing even more unfamiliar feelings in her, speeding the flow of her blood, of her breathing, of her heartbeat.
She whimpered as the pressure inside grew, every part of her, every bone, every nerve stingingly alive, as if fire ants were running wild throughout her.Her hands tightened around him, and their bodies melded together as one.She felt as if she would explode with needs that were still a mystery yet irresistibly beckoning.
He groaned, and then his mouth left hers, and her eyes met his.She saw a muscle straining in his cheek.His eyes were no longer hooded but burning in a way she thought impossible before.She felt his fingers, which had been sensually wandering up and down her back, press into a fist as his body went incredibly still.
And then he released her and moved away, the expression on his face one of such unbearable anguish, Shea thought her heart would shatter from it.
He turned around abruptly, his fist suddenly pounding into a table, a gesture of so much boiling violence that she flinched.His back bowed slightly as he leaned down.So much raw, naked emotion surged from him that the room felt like a storm center, furious currents rushing between them, sucking at the life core of her.Shea couldn’t even begin to comprehend the complexity of those currents.She just knew they drained the very breath from her as she watched him fight them.
Rafe silently cursed every perverse star under which he was born.Since the Comanche had killed his parents so many years ago, fate—and man—had systematically destroyed everything he held dear.He’d once thought man made his own luck, but obviously not, if a higher being decided otherwise.
Ten years.Ten damned years lost.And the rest of his life haunted by his scar.
He couldn’t let go of those years, or the man responsible for that loss.
And some demon had put that man’s daughter in Rafe’s way, had made him want her with all the passion still left in his soul.More than that, those searching, sometimes bewildered but always honest blue-gray eyes touched a chord of a tenderness he hadn’t known still existed in him.
Choose, the demon said.But there was no choice.The man in him cried out for justice, for vengeance.Hate was stronger than newly discovered need, passion.Ugly, violent emotions like hate and greed and jealousy always overwhelmed the gentler ones.He’d learned that in war, and it was a lesson reinforced in prison.
Passion was all he felt for the woman, he assured himself.
When he’d entered the cabin minutes ago, that brief look of relief—even welcome—on a face glowing in candlelight had been unexpected.Christ, he’d felt like a monster, particularly when he’d seen her hand.But she’d placed no blame on him, instead she’d given him that small smile, the one that said he had been missed.And so he had done what he had told himself he would not do.He had touched her, and touching her had led to something more.
And he discovered he wanted so much more.
He locked the thought away, as he had learned to lock away so many emotions, and slowly turned to her.The glow was gone from her face, and she stood against the wall, as if needing support.
Something in him made him strike out at her.Possibly because if he didn’t, he might take her in his arms again, and it wouldn’t be possible to let go.He had to make her hate him.
He made his gaze deliberately cruel as it swept over her, his words intentionally crude.“Are you offering to trade your virtue for your freedom?If so, I’m not interested.”
Rafe knew he’d succeeded when outrage flared in her eyes.Her burned right hand swung toward his cheek, but he caught it before she could make contact.His eyes went to the blisters already forming there.
“Slapping me would hurt you far worse than it would me,” he said mildly.
“You’re a … a …”
“‘Bastard’ is the word you’re searching for, I think,” he said mockingly.
“‘Bastard’ isn’t strong enough,” she replied.
He grinned, though he felt no amusement.“I like that temper.”
Sparks darted from her eyes like fiery rock thrown off by a volcanic eruption.He had taken a moment of sweetness and made it ugly.The ache inside him opened like a chasm, swallowing up those very brief seconds of pleasure, of normalcy, of forgetfulness.He was back in prison, the bars not of iron but every bit as confining, as stifling.
He turned away from her.“If you need to go to the stream, come with me,” he said carelessly.
He was ripping away her privacy, her pride, just as the prison guards had cruelly shredded his.That first day in the penitentiary he was stripped, searched in the most intimate places, then scrubbed and deloused.He had crawled inside himself then; it had been the only way to survive.
He’d had no choice.Just as he had no choice now.Too many other lives were at stake.His revenge was at stake.
It was the last thought he had before he heard a noise close behind him.Before he could react to it, pain ripped through his head, and he felt himself falling as darkness closed in on him.
Shea stared down at him.He seemed so big crumpled up on the floor, a spot of blood on the side of his head where the frying pan had struck.
