restrained until it showed only in the tension of his arms. Her fingertips traced the life pulsing in his veins from wrist to elbow and back again. The gentle, searching caresses said more about her own female hunger than she knew.
But Cord knew. His fingers tightened, drawing Raine still closer to him. He felt her breath flow warmly over his neck. Slowly, slowly, his mouth traced the line of her jaw with touches that lingered and haunted.
He knew he should stop with those undemanding kisses. He had no right to ask for more, to plead with his lips and eyes and body for everything she had to give. He was taking unfair advantage of her. First he had frightened her, then he had comforted her . . . and now he was making love to her. From first to last he had always been a step ahead of her, a master of unarmed combat keeping a novice offbalance until there was nowhere to fall but straight into his arms.
He should stop. He had no right to hold a woman like her, a woman made for one man’s love, not for casual affairs with men whose lives belonged to war. He would stop.
But not yet.
Not until he came just a bit closer to her fire, warmed himself just a bit longer, drove out just a bit more of the chill that had crept like an enemy into his soul, ambushing him when he least expected it.
Willingly Raine shared the deepening kiss, opening her lips and inviting Cord into her warmth, inviting him to dream about a place by her fire. When his tongue moved over hers, she made an involuntary sound of pleasure and surprise. Her fingers slid beneath his short sleeves and clung to the bunched muscles of his upper arms as though she had just lost her balance and must hold onto him or fall.
Her response went through him like a shock wave. He fought an almost overpowering surge of hunger. He wanted to take her down to the golden grass and make love to her until nothing else was real, no past or future, no rights or wrongs, nothing but sunset sliding into night, a man and woman alone, two lovers turning and twining and joining, two flames burning as one in a world of crimson silence.
She sensed the hunger in him even before she heard the almost silent groan that came from deep in his chest. His tongue slowly caressed hers, tasting her, wanting her, wanting everything except to end the kiss.
Without meaning to, she clung to him fiercely. She didn’t care about anything but the feel of his biceps flexed beneath her hands, the salt-sweet intimacy of him inside her mouth, their hunger bridging all differences, all difficulties. She didn’t want the kiss to end, to stand apart from him once more, to send him alone into the descending night.
The supple strength and taut yearning of her body told Cord more than any words could have. He took what she gave to him, what she demanded that he take, drinking her taste and heat and passion until the world dropped away, leaving only Raine, a sweet fire burning in his arms.
Finally Cord forced himself to lift his mouth. If he didn’t stop now, immediately, he doubted he could stop at all. It was that simple.
And that shocking.
The hunger gripping him was new, totally unknown. It wasn’t simple lust. He had learned long ago to control his own sexuality. But now he felt as though a dam had given way deep inside his soul, releasing torrents of need that were as complex and unexpected as they were powerful, sweeping everything before them.
Eyes closed, he fought to control himself, but the afterimage of Raine’s hungry, parted lips burned behind his eyelids.
Do you know what a blazing, beautiful temptation you are, Raine Chandler-Smith? he asked silently, afraid to speak aloud and frighten her again.
When he trusted himself to look at her, he saw himself condensed in wide hazel eyes watching him, admiring him, needing him. Savage hunger turned inside him, emotion as hot and bright and untested as a sword newly brought from the forge.
“You’re coming back with me.” His voice was soft and
But Cord knew. His fingers tightened, drawing Raine still closer to him. He felt her breath flow warmly over his neck. Slowly, slowly, his mouth traced the line of her jaw with touches that lingered and haunted.
He knew he should stop with those undemanding kisses. He had no right to ask for more, to plead with his lips and eyes and body for everything she had to give. He was taking unfair advantage of her. First he had frightened her, then he had comforted her . . . and now he was making love to her. From first to last he had always been a step ahead of her, a master of unarmed combat keeping a novice offbalance until there was nowhere to fall but straight into his arms.
He should stop. He had no right to hold a woman like her, a woman made for one man’s love, not for casual affairs with men whose lives belonged to war. He would stop.
But not yet.
Not until he came just a bit closer to her fire, warmed himself just a bit longer, drove out just a bit more of the chill that had crept like an enemy into his soul, ambushing him when he least expected it.
Willingly Raine shared the deepening kiss, opening her lips and inviting Cord into her warmth, inviting him to dream about a place by her fire. When his tongue moved over hers, she made an involuntary sound of pleasure and surprise. Her fingers slid beneath his short sleeves and clung to the bunched muscles of his upper arms as though she had just lost her balance and must hold onto him or fall.
Her response went through him like a shock wave. He fought an almost overpowering surge of hunger. He wanted to take her down to the golden grass and make love to her until nothing else was real, no past or future, no rights or wrongs, nothing but sunset sliding into night, a man and woman alone, two lovers turning and twining and joining, two flames burning as one in a world of crimson silence.
She sensed the hunger in him even before she heard the almost silent groan that came from deep in his chest. His tongue slowly caressed hers, tasting her, wanting her, wanting everything except to end the kiss.
Without meaning to, she clung to him fiercely. She didn’t care about anything but the feel of his biceps flexed beneath her hands, the salt-sweet intimacy of him inside her mouth, their hunger bridging all differences, all difficulties. She didn’t want the kiss to end, to stand apart from him once more, to send him alone into the descending night.
The supple strength and taut yearning of her body told Cord more than any words could have. He took what she gave to him, what she demanded that he take, drinking her taste and heat and passion until the world dropped away, leaving only Raine, a sweet fire burning in his arms.
Finally Cord forced himself to lift his mouth. If he didn’t stop now, immediately, he doubted he could stop at all. It was that simple.
And that shocking.
The hunger gripping him was new, totally unknown. It wasn’t simple lust. He had learned long ago to control his own sexuality. But now he felt as though a dam had given way deep inside his soul, releasing torrents of need that were as complex and unexpected as they were powerful, sweeping everything before them.
Eyes closed, he fought to control himself, but the afterimage of Raine’s hungry, parted lips burned behind his eyelids.
Do you know what a blazing, beautiful temptation you are, Raine Chandler-Smith? he asked silently, afraid to speak aloud and frighten her again.
When he trusted himself to look at her, he saw himself condensed in wide hazel eyes watching him, admiring him, needing him. Savage hunger turned inside him, emotion as hot and bright and untested as a sword newly brought from the forge.
“You’re coming back with me.” His voice was soft and
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