Winter's Night by Sherrilyn Kenyon

that same delectable scent of fresh flowers and warmth.
    And right then, all he wanted to do was lay her down on the kitchen table, lift her skirt up, and bury himself deep inside her warm body.
    It took all of his willpower not to yield to that desire as the scent of her circled him, making him dizzy. Hungry. Inciting him beyond thought or reason.
    A full minute passed before he realized she was staring at his blood on her hand.
    â€œYou’re bleeding?” she asked.
    Unwilling to explain to her that Pete had shot him as he ran off with the stolen money, he rose to his feet. “I probably should be going now.”
    â€œSit!” The sharp tone coming from her was so unexpected and out of character that he actually obeyed.
    â€œTake your shirt off and let me see what you’ve done now.”
    â€œYes, ma’am,” he murmured sarcastically as he unbuttoned his shirt and obliged her.
    Catherine opened her basket, then made the mistake of glancing back to him.
    His slow, languid movements captured her gaze as those long, strong fingers of his worked the buttons through the black cambric. She had always loved those hands. The way they felt laced in hers, the pleasure and comfort they had always managed to give her.
    Her throat dried at the memory.
    He opened his shirt, then set to work on the buttons of his white union suit. And with every white button that opened, she saw more and more of his perfect, tawny flesh.
    She had forgotten just how nerve-wracking the sight of his bare skin could be. The years had done nothing but make his muscles leaner, more defined. And all too well she remembered what it felt like to slide her hand over those taut ripples. The way his hard stomach felt sliding against her own as he held himself above her and drove her into paradise with long, luscious strokes.
    Her body growing hot, it took all her concentration to force herself to reach for the makeshift bandage on his right biceps. His arm flexed seductively as her fingers brushed his skin, and a jolt of molten lust tore through her. There were few things on earth that felt better than those hard, strong biceps flexing beneath her hands.
    Catherine clenched her teeth in frustration. How could he make her so breathless after what he had put her through?
    Why was her body so determined to betray her? And right then, she wished desperately for an off switch to stop the overwhelming desire coursing through her veins.
    Tend his wound, tend his wound —she mentally repeated the words over and over, hoping to gain some control over herself.
    I will not succumb to him!
    By all that was holy, she wouldn’t.
    Untying his bandage, Catherine immediately saw the bullet wound. “You’ve been shot?”
    â€œAnd can you believe it wasn’t by you?”
    She stiffened at his playful tone. “You’re not funny.”
    â€œNot even a little?”
    â€œI told you, Mr. O’Callahan, I’m immune to your charms.”
    Don’t you wish! If only she could live up to those brave words.
    â€œI wish you’d stop calling me that,” he snapped at her. “I have a name and you used to use it.”
    She didn’t dare use it right then, because if she did, she had no doubt she would be his to do with as he pleased. Just the sound of those syllables on her tongue would be enough to finish her off.
    She struggled to bring herself under control. “I used to do a lot of things with you that I don’t do anymore.”
    â€œSuch as?”
    â€œUse your imagination.”
    That silver-gray gaze dipped to her breasts, which drew tight and heavy at his heated perusal. “Oh, I’m using it, all right. And I can well imagine the sound of your sighs of pleasure in my ear as I nibble the flesh of your neck. Do you remember?”
    â€œNo,” she lied, her voice amazingly calm.
    But in spite of her denials, she felt her body melt against the heat of that silver-gray stare. Even