Virgin Star by Jennifer Horsman Page A

air, the first leg lifting her, the second leg kicking up to his stomach. Ever quick, he leaped back just in time; catching her foot in two hands and using brute force, he blocked the thrust of her practiced kick.
    Yet she had even more reason to fight now. The giant's amusement, a sound as deep as the ocean and yet as light and carefree as a mockingbird, still sang through the room when her clenched fist shot up to his throat again. He ducked, so her fist hit the hard corner of his chin. The strong grip eased from her foot, which raised in a quick hard punch to his mid-section. She heard his satisfactory grunt as she swung around, meaning to follow through with a series of hard, rapid kicks until the giant dropped. His arm shot out and curved around her waist. He flung her bodily through the air to the bed. Facedown and on her stomach, she. started to roll out of it only to feel his full weight come over her, his huge hands and legs pinning hers.
    She felt the great heat of his body, the hideous stiffness of his enlarged loins pressed against her buttocks. She knew fear. Breathing fast and furious, her heart pounding savagely, she held perfectly still, waiting for his next move. It took her by surprise.
    She felt the tension in his great muscles, and he held still as if collecting his senses. Then she heard a great husky groan. To her utter shock, he lifted partially from her, separating their bodies by half a pace and releasing her hands but for the briefest moment. She started to roll out from under him but already it was too late, for he tossed her up higher on the bed, spun her around, and neatly, quickly pinned her arms and legs with his, holding her trapped and immobile.
    Fear and disbelief mixed as his hard-muscled thighs nudged hers apart and wider still, so that his thighs crossed over hers and his thick shins held hers hard to the bed. Again.
    The intimacy of the position felt so queerly, inexplicably embarrassing! Every strained nerve of her body leaped where he touched her, which seemed to be everywhere and all at once. His hard staff burned through the cloth of the nightshirt on her abdomen and stomach, she felt it, while his rib cage brushed against her breasts. That strange tingling congestion rose there again, gathering and growing as she forced herself to met his bright, wild eyes.
    "So, my audacious chit, will you answer the question?"
    She shook her head, the movement making her aware he had a good portion of her hair caught in his hands.
    "You won't say? Why not?"
    "I don't know! I am so confused! Who are you?"
    "Call me Seanessy." The hazel eyes made a brief study of her lips: wide, sensuous, colored like late summer strawberries, and he groaned, glancing away of necessity. What the devil was the matter with him? Comely, aye, but the rest of her a battered bag of virgin bones. "Dear Lord, where did you come from?" In an apparent shift of subject, "What do you mean, you don't know?".
    She shook her head, squirming to escape the unbearable sensations brought by his weight and heat, only to realize this was not a good thing to do. Hot shivers raced down: her spine. "I do not know," she cried breathlessly "I do not know!"
    Seanessy focused long enough to grasp what she meant. He would swear she lied, but her own confusion and desperation gave him pause. "Do you mean you truly do not know where you learned the Oriental art?"
    She shook her head.
    "And how did you land on rny doorstep?"
    "Your doorstep? I don't know what you mean! Please," she pleaded, "I am confused. I do not know you or what I am doing here; this situation is so strange to me. Like a nightmare! I woke in a strange room—there is something wrong. Someone is after—" She did not trust him to finish. "I found you sleeping here. I thought I could get answers from you-—''
    "By putting a dagger to my throat?" He almost laughed. ''You have a lot of pluck, girl."
    "I don't know who you are or what I am doing here. You took my clothes—"
    "What?