couldn’t help it. This—this hard assessment of her body made her want to crawl into the nearest hole and hide. Still, she was damned if she would cower before him like some Victorian maiden. Squaring her shoulders, she faced him proudly, challenge showing in her eyes.
“You are totally wrong in what you’re thinking, you know,” she said with what she felt was creditable composure. “Believe it or not, I certainly did not entice those—those animals to attack me. I was simply taking a bath in the creek. . . .”
Her voice trailed off, her bruised throat suddenly dry, when it became obvious that he wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed hungrily on the golden globes of her breasts. Even as she broke off he was lifting a hand to trail his fingertips over the soft curves.
“Beautiful,” he murmured huskily. At his touch Lisa’s turncoat body betrayed her, her small, strawberry-pink nipples standing up like soldiers suddenly called to attention. Taking a deep shaky breath, she struggled to go on with what she had been saying.
“They were trying to rape me,” she got out distinctly, then reason fled as he cupped her breasts in his callused palms, running his thumbs lightly over the nipples. Lisa felt what was almost a physical pain deep in her belly. Her hands came up of their own accord to close around his strong wrists, attempting to still his maddening caresses. As she touched him he looked up in time to see her moisten her lower lip with the delicate pink tip of her tongue. He watched the tiny movement as if fascinated.
The passion that suddenly blazed in his eyes shook Lisa to the core. She closed her eyes in mute defense, then realized an instant later that she had made a tactical error. But by then it was too late. His mouth was on hers, hard and hot and compelling, kissing her with a fierceness that stopped her breath. Momentarily Lisa tried to resist, mentally scrambling for all the reasons why she should. It was worse than useless. Because, on the heels of more recent, shaming memories followed another one—the memory of a hard, thrusting body driving her wild. . . .
She was lost. She knew it even before her lips parted helplessly beneath his, before her mouth opened to admit the conquering warrior that was his tongue. As his arms closed around her waist to pull her against his nakedness, her own arms slid convulsively around his neck, clinging to him, her fingers ruffling through the thick black hair at the nape of his neck. She returned the kiss wildly, on fire for him, loving the feel of his body hair rasping against her soft breasts and stomach and thighs, loving the steely muscles of his back and shoulders as her hands ran over them with blind urgency, loving the taste of his mouth, the drugging heat and man-smell of his body. He bent her ruthlessly back against his arm as he kissed her, his big male body in complete control of her smaller female one. And she loved it. The knowledge was utterly shaming, totally unbelievable, but true.
His hands were moving on her skin, handling her with a rough expertise that left Lisa gasping. He stroked her breasts, his touch feather light, lingering over each quivering nipple until it throbbed and pleaded for his touch. Then his hands moved lower, caressing her slim waist and flat stomach as if he had all the time in the world. Finally his fingers crept lower still to find the soft mound of hair between her thighs. He laid his hand flat against what was rapidly becoming the pulsating center of her being. Lisa stiffened instinctively. Sam paid no attention to her sudden stillness; his fingers began to explore, and gradually Lisa relaxed. What he was doing to her felt so good, so right, that she was soon melting in his arms, leaning heavily against him as his big body supported her weight, letting him do with her what he would. Her eyes were tightly shut. She didn’t even hear the soft moaning sound rising from deep within her throat.
“Want me?” she
“You are totally wrong in what you’re thinking, you know,” she said with what she felt was creditable composure. “Believe it or not, I certainly did not entice those—those animals to attack me. I was simply taking a bath in the creek. . . .”
Her voice trailed off, her bruised throat suddenly dry, when it became obvious that he wasn’t listening. His eyes were fixed hungrily on the golden globes of her breasts. Even as she broke off he was lifting a hand to trail his fingertips over the soft curves.
“Beautiful,” he murmured huskily. At his touch Lisa’s turncoat body betrayed her, her small, strawberry-pink nipples standing up like soldiers suddenly called to attention. Taking a deep shaky breath, she struggled to go on with what she had been saying.
“They were trying to rape me,” she got out distinctly, then reason fled as he cupped her breasts in his callused palms, running his thumbs lightly over the nipples. Lisa felt what was almost a physical pain deep in her belly. Her hands came up of their own accord to close around his strong wrists, attempting to still his maddening caresses. As she touched him he looked up in time to see her moisten her lower lip with the delicate pink tip of her tongue. He watched the tiny movement as if fascinated.
The passion that suddenly blazed in his eyes shook Lisa to the core. She closed her eyes in mute defense, then realized an instant later that she had made a tactical error. But by then it was too late. His mouth was on hers, hard and hot and compelling, kissing her with a fierceness that stopped her breath. Momentarily Lisa tried to resist, mentally scrambling for all the reasons why she should. It was worse than useless. Because, on the heels of more recent, shaming memories followed another one—the memory of a hard, thrusting body driving her wild. . . .
She was lost. She knew it even before her lips parted helplessly beneath his, before her mouth opened to admit the conquering warrior that was his tongue. As his arms closed around her waist to pull her against his nakedness, her own arms slid convulsively around his neck, clinging to him, her fingers ruffling through the thick black hair at the nape of his neck. She returned the kiss wildly, on fire for him, loving the feel of his body hair rasping against her soft breasts and stomach and thighs, loving the steely muscles of his back and shoulders as her hands ran over them with blind urgency, loving the taste of his mouth, the drugging heat and man-smell of his body. He bent her ruthlessly back against his arm as he kissed her, his big male body in complete control of her smaller female one. And she loved it. The knowledge was utterly shaming, totally unbelievable, but true.
His hands were moving on her skin, handling her with a rough expertise that left Lisa gasping. He stroked her breasts, his touch feather light, lingering over each quivering nipple until it throbbed and pleaded for his touch. Then his hands moved lower, caressing her slim waist and flat stomach as if he had all the time in the world. Finally his fingers crept lower still to find the soft mound of hair between her thighs. He laid his hand flat against what was rapidly becoming the pulsating center of her being. Lisa stiffened instinctively. Sam paid no attention to her sudden stillness; his fingers began to explore, and gradually Lisa relaxed. What he was doing to her felt so good, so right, that she was soon melting in his arms, leaning heavily against him as his big body supported her weight, letting him do with her what he would. Her eyes were tightly shut. She didn’t even hear the soft moaning sound rising from deep within her throat.
“Want me?” she
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