Face the Fire by Nora Roberts Page A

of Mia.
    Because the idea of being away from her month after month was both tantalizing and unthinkable.
    Yet he had begun to think it. To wonder about it more and more every time he left the Three Sisters to go back to the mainland and college. He’d begun to consider testing himself by making some excuse not to come back to the island, back to her, some weekend during the semester.
    Every time he left the mainland on the ferry, they pulled him back. The island and Mia. Now he was refusing to take the escape hatch that had been tailor-made for him. He needed to think it over again. Reconsider.
    But when Mia had come along to his beach, he’d been too crowded with lust and longing to brood or to think about being anywhere but with her.
    “If you’re not brooding, prove it.” She walked backward in the water so that it lapped at her calves, her knees, those long white thighs. “Come in and play.”
    “Too old for games.”
    “I’m not.” She slid into the water, skimmed through it like a mermaid. And when she surfaced, water raining from her hair, her shirt clinging seductively to her breasts, he thought he’d go mad. “But I forgot. You’re nearly nineteen. Too dignified to splash around in the water.”
    She did a surface dive and streaked through the dark blue water of the cove. When he grabbed her ankle, she kicked and came up laughing.
    Her laughter, as always, bewitched him. “I’ll give you dignity,” he said, and dunked her.
    It was innocent. Sun and water, the bright beginning of summer, the slippery edge between childhood and the future.
    It couldn’t stay innocent.
    They splashed, warred, swam as sleekly as dolphins. Then came together as they always did, lips meeting first under the surface, then clinging when they burst through into air. Need rose with them, strong and urgent, so that she trembled as she wrapped herself around him. Her lips, warm and wet, parted for his with a trust and acceptance that shook him to the bone.
    “Mia.” Knowing that he would die wanting her, he pressed his face into the wet ropes of her hair. “We have to stop. Let’s go for a walk.” Even as he spoke, his hands were moving over her. He couldn’t help himself.
    “I dreamed last night,” she said softly. Cradled in his arms, she sighed. “Of you. It’s always of you. And when I woke, I knew it would be today.” She dipped her head back, and he all but fell into those great gray eyes. “I want to be with you, and no one else. I want to give myself to you, and no one else.”
    His blood pounded for her. He tried to think of right and wrong, of tomorrow. But could only think of now. “You have to be sure.”
    “Sam.” She traced kisses over his face. “I’ve always been sure.”
    She slid away from him, but only to take his hand. It was she who led him out of the water and to the cave tucked into the bluff.
    The cave was cool and dry, high enough at its heart for him to stand upright. He saw the blanket spread near the far wall, and the candles scattered over the floor. And looked at her.
    “I told you I knew. This is our place.” Watching him, she reached for the tiny buttons running down the front of her shirt. And he saw her fingers tremble.
    “You’re cold.”
    “A little.”
    He stepped to her. “And afraid.”
    Her lips curved. “A little. But I won’t be either for long.”
    “I’ll be careful with you.”
    She let her hands fall to her sides so that he could finish unbuttoning her shirt. “I know. I love you, Sam.”
    He lowered his lips to hers as he peeled the cotton away. “I love you.”
    The little niggle of fear inside her vanished. “I know.”
    He’d touched her before, and been touched. Glorious, frustrating caresses, too often hurried. Now as they undressed each other, the candles flickered into life. As they lowered to the blanket, a thin film seemed to coat the mouth of the cave, closing them in.
    Their mouths met, sweet and hot. Even as her pleasure began to rise, she