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Authors: Karen Robards
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heard him growl. Lisa had moved beyond reason, beyond shame, conscious only of the aching need he was deliberately arousing. Jerkily she nodded without opening her eyes.
“Say it,” he ordered softly. Lisa hesitated, held back by some last dim flicker of pride. Then he lowered his mouth to nuzzle gently at one soft breast.
“Yes, oh yes . . .” She gasped.
“Yes, what?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Yes. you want me, or . . .”
His mouth suckled seductively at her breast. Lisa felt heat spiral crazily inside her. Her hands came up to clutch at his head, holding it in place. Her one fear was that he would stop.
“Yes, I want you.” She surrendered without a struggle. She did want him, she thought hazily, so much. . . .
Sam swung her up in his arms, holding her cradled against his chest. Lisa clung to him feverishly as he carried her the few paces to the cot. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder, her delicately flushed face tilted up to his. Her eyes were closed so that her lashes formed feathery dark crescents against her cheeks. Desire for him was melting her bones; her heart was pounding so fiercely that she thought she might die of it. Her whole body burned in anticipation.
He stopped, still holding her possessively against his chest. Lisa waited for him to lower her gently to the cot. Nothing happened. After a moment she opened her eyes, puzzled, to find him looking down at her with an odd, half-rueful expression. She didn’t understand his look, but she certainly wasn’t in the mood to puzzle it out. Murmuring soft encouragement to him, she shamelessly pressed her tingling breasts against the hard, hairy wall of his chest. She was impatient, more than impatient, to experience again the ecstasy of his lovemaking. . . . She pressed nibbling little kisses into the curve of his neck. Still he didn’t move. Annoyed and faintly bewildered, she looked up at him questioningly. His eyes met hers. Then his mouth twisted mockingly, and he laughed.
Lisa froze. She was still staring up at him, her mouth slightly open, when she felt his arms drop away from her. Suddenly she was falling through space to land with a jarring thud on the cot. Stunned, she lay where he had dropped her. Her eyes blinked once or twice in shocked incomprehension as he turned away and unhurriedly began to dress.
“Sam . . . ?”
He had put on his shorts and was stepping into his pants, pulling them up over his muscular, hair-roughened thighs as Lisa watched with hungry bewilderment. He zipped them up, and was buckling his belt with careless hands when he finally looked up to meet her questioning gaze. Lisa was taken aback by the hostility she saw in those blue eyes.
“Honey, with a girl like you, the term rape doesn’t even begin to apply,” he said cruelly, then gathered up his shirt and gunbelt in one hand, swung on his heel, and strode from the tent.
Lisa felt as if she had suffered a crippling blow to her midsection. For long moments after he had gone, she lay huddled on the cot, feeling sick. It had taken her shocked brain only seconds to remember that Sam had deliberately set out to test her—to humiliate her. And, dear God, had he succeeded! Beyond anything he could have planned or imagined! She felt like crawling off and hiding under the nearest rock, never again to face the light of day. He had wanted her, she knew he had. She was not so innocent or naîve as to fail to understand the significance of the heat and throbbing strength of him. But he had kept a tight rein on his own appetites, while making her want him so much that she was willing to sacrifice pride, self-respect, everything in return for the physical satisfaction her body craved. He had made her beg for him, damn him to hell, and then he had laughed and turned away! The memory of every word, every touch, every sigh returned to haunt Lisa in all too vivid detail. She groaned, rolling onto her stomach to bury her face in the flat pillow. Her eyes
“Say it,” he ordered softly. Lisa hesitated, held back by some last dim flicker of pride. Then he lowered his mouth to nuzzle gently at one soft breast.
“Yes, oh yes . . .” She gasped.
“Yes, what?” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “Yes. you want me, or . . .”
His mouth suckled seductively at her breast. Lisa felt heat spiral crazily inside her. Her hands came up to clutch at his head, holding it in place. Her one fear was that he would stop.
“Yes, I want you.” She surrendered without a struggle. She did want him, she thought hazily, so much. . . .
Sam swung her up in his arms, holding her cradled against his chest. Lisa clung to him feverishly as he carried her the few paces to the cot. Her head was thrown back against his shoulder, her delicately flushed face tilted up to his. Her eyes were closed so that her lashes formed feathery dark crescents against her cheeks. Desire for him was melting her bones; her heart was pounding so fiercely that she thought she might die of it. Her whole body burned in anticipation.
He stopped, still holding her possessively against his chest. Lisa waited for him to lower her gently to the cot. Nothing happened. After a moment she opened her eyes, puzzled, to find him looking down at her with an odd, half-rueful expression. She didn’t understand his look, but she certainly wasn’t in the mood to puzzle it out. Murmuring soft encouragement to him, she shamelessly pressed her tingling breasts against the hard, hairy wall of his chest. She was impatient, more than impatient, to experience again the ecstasy of his lovemaking. . . . She pressed nibbling little kisses into the curve of his neck. Still he didn’t move. Annoyed and faintly bewildered, she looked up at him questioningly. His eyes met hers. Then his mouth twisted mockingly, and he laughed.
Lisa froze. She was still staring up at him, her mouth slightly open, when she felt his arms drop away from her. Suddenly she was falling through space to land with a jarring thud on the cot. Stunned, she lay where he had dropped her. Her eyes blinked once or twice in shocked incomprehension as he turned away and unhurriedly began to dress.
“Sam . . . ?”
He had put on his shorts and was stepping into his pants, pulling them up over his muscular, hair-roughened thighs as Lisa watched with hungry bewilderment. He zipped them up, and was buckling his belt with careless hands when he finally looked up to meet her questioning gaze. Lisa was taken aback by the hostility she saw in those blue eyes.
“Honey, with a girl like you, the term rape doesn’t even begin to apply,” he said cruelly, then gathered up his shirt and gunbelt in one hand, swung on his heel, and strode from the tent.
Lisa felt as if she had suffered a crippling blow to her midsection. For long moments after he had gone, she lay huddled on the cot, feeling sick. It had taken her shocked brain only seconds to remember that Sam had deliberately set out to test her—to humiliate her. And, dear God, had he succeeded! Beyond anything he could have planned or imagined! She felt like crawling off and hiding under the nearest rock, never again to face the light of day. He had wanted her, she knew he had. She was not so innocent or naîve as to fail to understand the significance of the heat and throbbing strength of him. But he had kept a tight rein on his own appetites, while making her want him so much that she was willing to sacrifice pride, self-respect, everything in return for the physical satisfaction her body craved. He had made her beg for him, damn him to hell, and then he had laughed and turned away! The memory of every word, every touch, every sigh returned to haunt Lisa in all too vivid detail. She groaned, rolling onto her stomach to bury her face in the flat pillow. Her eyes
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