short cap of hair. Warm silk. Down the slender curve of her throat. Hot satin. With his tongue he sampled the potent flavors of her mouth, and then he groaned as she drew him deeper into her.
Never had need spun so quickly out of control, risen so high above the tolerable.
He hurt. And he had never hurt before, not from wanting. He reeled, the way a man might stagger from lack of food or sleep. And he knew fear—a sharp and sudden terror that his own destiny had been removed neatly from his hands.
It was that which had him yanking her away, his fingers biting into her arms as he held her back. His breath came fast and shallow, as if he had raced to the top of a cliff. Indeed, staring at her, he thought he could see the drop, spread below him like a vision of jagged rocks and boiling seas.
She said nothing, just stared with eyes that were huge and dark. In the milky winter light her skin was pale and clear. Like a statue, she stood utterly still, utterly silent. Then she began to tremble.
Jacob snatched his hands away as if he’d been burned.
“I suppose . . .” Because her voice was weak, Sunny took a long, cleansing breath. “I suppose that was your way of proving a point.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets and felt exactly like what she had called him. A fool. “It was a choice between that and a left jab.”
Either way, he’d scored a knockout. Steadier now, she nodded. “If you’re going to stay here for the time being, we’re going to have to establish some rules.”
She recovered quickly, he thought, with a bitterness that surprised him. “Yours, I suppose.”
“Yes.” She wanted to sit down, badly, but forced herself to face him eye-to-eye. “We can argue all you like. In fact, I enjoy a good argument.”
“You’re seductive when you argue.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. No one had ever accused her of that. “I guess you’ll just have to learn how to control yourself.”
“It’s not my strong suit.”
“Or take a hike in what’s already over a foot of snow.”
He glanced toward the window. “I’ll work on it.”
“Fair enough.” She took another long breath. “Though it’s obvious we don’t like each other very much, we can try to be civil as long as we’re stuck with each other.”
“Nicely put.” He wanted to trace a finger down her cheek but wisely resisted the temptation. “Can I ask you a question?”
“All right.”
“Do you usually respond so radically to men you don’t like?”
“That’s none of your business.” Temper brought a flattering tinge of color to her cheeks.
“I thought it was a very civil question.” Then he smiled and changed tactics. “But I’ll retract it, because if we argue again so soon we’ll just end up in bed.”
“Of all the—”
“Are you willing to chance it?” he said quietly. He gave a slow, satisfied nod when she subsided. “I thought not. If it makes you feel any better, neither am I.” So saying, he sat and picked up the tools again. “Why don’t we just cross the whole business off as poor judgment.”
“You were the one who—”
“Yes.” He looked up, his gaze carefully neutral. “I was.”
It was pride that had her stalking toward the table when she would have preferred to slink away and nurse her wounds. “And I suppose it’s asking too much to expect an apology.”
“I don’t need one,” he said easily.
She snatched up a toaster part and flung it. “You’re the one who did the manhandling, Hornblower.”
With difficulty, he checked himself. If he touched her again, now, they would both regret it. “All right, I’m sorry I kissed you, Sunny.” There was an edge to his voice as his eyes whipped up to hers. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry.”
She spun around and stormed out of the room. The apology hadn’t mollified her. In fact, it had only inflated an angry hurt. She picked up the heaviest book she could find and flung it across the room. She kicked
Never had need spun so quickly out of control, risen so high above the tolerable.
He hurt. And he had never hurt before, not from wanting. He reeled, the way a man might stagger from lack of food or sleep. And he knew fear—a sharp and sudden terror that his own destiny had been removed neatly from his hands.
It was that which had him yanking her away, his fingers biting into her arms as he held her back. His breath came fast and shallow, as if he had raced to the top of a cliff. Indeed, staring at her, he thought he could see the drop, spread below him like a vision of jagged rocks and boiling seas.
She said nothing, just stared with eyes that were huge and dark. In the milky winter light her skin was pale and clear. Like a statue, she stood utterly still, utterly silent. Then she began to tremble.
Jacob snatched his hands away as if he’d been burned.
“I suppose . . .” Because her voice was weak, Sunny took a long, cleansing breath. “I suppose that was your way of proving a point.”
He pushed his hands into his pockets and felt exactly like what she had called him. A fool. “It was a choice between that and a left jab.”
Either way, he’d scored a knockout. Steadier now, she nodded. “If you’re going to stay here for the time being, we’re going to have to establish some rules.”
She recovered quickly, he thought, with a bitterness that surprised him. “Yours, I suppose.”
“Yes.” She wanted to sit down, badly, but forced herself to face him eye-to-eye. “We can argue all you like. In fact, I enjoy a good argument.”
“You’re seductive when you argue.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it again. No one had ever accused her of that. “I guess you’ll just have to learn how to control yourself.”
“It’s not my strong suit.”
“Or take a hike in what’s already over a foot of snow.”
He glanced toward the window. “I’ll work on it.”
“Fair enough.” She took another long breath. “Though it’s obvious we don’t like each other very much, we can try to be civil as long as we’re stuck with each other.”
“Nicely put.” He wanted to trace a finger down her cheek but wisely resisted the temptation. “Can I ask you a question?”
“All right.”
“Do you usually respond so radically to men you don’t like?”
“That’s none of your business.” Temper brought a flattering tinge of color to her cheeks.
“I thought it was a very civil question.” Then he smiled and changed tactics. “But I’ll retract it, because if we argue again so soon we’ll just end up in bed.”
“Of all the—”
“Are you willing to chance it?” he said quietly. He gave a slow, satisfied nod when she subsided. “I thought not. If it makes you feel any better, neither am I.” So saying, he sat and picked up the tools again. “Why don’t we just cross the whole business off as poor judgment.”
“You were the one who—”
“Yes.” He looked up, his gaze carefully neutral. “I was.”
It was pride that had her stalking toward the table when she would have preferred to slink away and nurse her wounds. “And I suppose it’s asking too much to expect an apology.”
“I don’t need one,” he said easily.
She snatched up a toaster part and flung it. “You’re the one who did the manhandling, Hornblower.”
With difficulty, he checked himself. If he touched her again, now, they would both regret it. “All right, I’m sorry I kissed you, Sunny.” There was an edge to his voice as his eyes whipped up to hers. “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry.”
She spun around and stormed out of the room. The apology hadn’t mollified her. In fact, it had only inflated an angry hurt. She picked up the heaviest book she could find and flung it across the room. She kicked
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