The Touch of Fire Read online

  In the end, all she could do was trust him and give him the response he insisted on. She was helpless to do otherwise. The night before he had shown her the pleasure her body was capable of knowing, and the need to find it again sprang up strong and hot under his kisses. He wooed her again with light touches of his mouth that gradually deepened, with firm caresses through her clothing that soon made her impatient with the barriers between his skin and hers. He didn’t strip her all at once, but would remove one garment and then return to his patient kisses and stroking. It seemed forever before he finally slid his hand inside her shift and cupped her bare breast, and she gave a quick, sharp sigh of relief.

  His hard mouth curved into a smile, but it was one of purely male satisfaction rather than amusement. “You like that, don’t you?”

  She moved her legs restlessly, and her head turned toward him. “Yes.”

  He tugged the strap down off her shoulder and the shift drooped, baring her. He thought he’d never seen more delectable breasts, firm and round and proudly upright. They weren’t big, but they filled his hand nicely. Her nipples looked like dark pink berries, flushed and extended from his touch. He bent his head and leisurely suckled her, determinedly ignoring his thrusting erection in order to seduce her with her own pleasure.

  Her hands plucked at his shirt in frustration and he paused long enough to hook it off over his head.

  The heat and power of his naked chest pressed down on her, and her breasts tightened at the contact. Fire was burning through her, the same fire he had ignited before, and she moved urgently against him in search of relief. Some time later she became aware that his hands were under her skirt, releasing the tapes of her undergarment, and she lifted her hips to aid him in removing it. Her thighs opened eagerly to his touch.

  It was light at first, no more than a gentle rubbing, but soon his fingers sought out and concentrated on the most sensitive spot. That awful, wonderful tension began building in her, and she whimpered.

  Then his fingers slid into her and she cried out, her hips lifting from the bed. She felt the wetness between her legs and didn’t care. Rafe forced her head back with a kiss so hard and deep it bruised her lips, and she didn’t care about that either. She clutched his bare, damp shoulders and moved against him.

  Stifling a curse of agonized arousal, Rafe unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down. He spread her legs wider and slid his hips into the cradle, gritting his teeth against the surge of heat through his loins as he touched her. Annie went still, fear edging into her desire. He positioned the thick head of his shaft against her and then held her head framed between his hands, their gazes locked as he slowly, inexorably pushed into her.

  Her pupils expanded until her eyes were enormous black pools, and she sucked in a deep breath. Dimly she realized that it wasn’t painful as it had been before, but the sense of invasion, of being stretched, was almost unbearable. Her flesh was still tender and a little raw, and the nerve endings screamed a protest as his thick length forced her open. Her loins clenched around him in a futile effort to halt the alien intrusion and he groaned aloud, sagging weakly against her.

  And still he pushed, sheathing himself to the hilt. She felt him deep inside, touching the entrance to her womb, and wild pleasure exploded through her.

  He began thrusting, slowly at first, then with increasing speed and power. Her inner muscles clung to him, slick and hot.

  She couldn’t bear it. It was too much, too frightening. She tried to slide backward away from him, but he hooked his hands under her shoulders and held her.

  “Don’t fight it,” he crooned, his breath hot against her temple. “It’s too good to fight. Is it hurting?”

  She would have sobbed if she had had the breath. All she could do was say, “No,” on a hard gasp.

  His hips recoiled and advanced, thrusting him deep within her. Her own hips were rocking back and forth and she couldn’t control them. Desperately she began fighting, and Rafe caught her arms. “It’s all right,” he soothed. “You’re almost there.” He moved higher on her, so that with each thrust and withdrawal the base of his shaft rubbed against her. “Lift up against me, honey,” he commanded with a deep groan.

  She didn’t. She couldn’t. She felt as if she were fighting for her life as she desperately tried to shrink from him, pressing her hips down hard against the blanket. The force he was arousing in her was so strong she didn’t dare let it explode. She heard herself sobbing now, harsh sounds that burned in her throat.

  His hair was dripping wet with sweat, and his face was stark with the effort his control was costing him. He slid his hands under her buttocks, pushing his fingers into the soft cleft to grip her hard. She screamed in shock and her hips jerked upward, away from the startling touch. Sensation jolted through her and she felt her sanity sliding away as the dark whirlpool grabbed her again, flinging her up and then pulling her down, drowning her. He was still gripping her buttocks, working her up and down in rhythm with his thrusts, then his hoarse groans mingled with her cries as his big body convulsed against her.

  Afterward he held her head and kissed her as if he couldn’t get enough of her, kisses as deep and hard as if their passion hadn’t just been expended. Tears seeped from beneath her lashes, but they weren’t tears of pain. She didn’t know why she was crying. Exhaustion, perhaps, or maybe it was a natural reaction to having survived a cataclysmic upheaval of her senses that had shaken her to her marrow. Why hadn’t she died? Why hadn’t her heart exploded from the strain, why hadn’t the heat boiled her blood in her veins? She felt as if all of that had happened, as if she should be no more than ashes in his arms. So it hadn’t been a chimera after all, but a force that welded them together with chains she would never be able to break.

  He wiped the tears away with his thumbs. “Look at me, darlin’,” he urged. “Open your eyes.”

  She did, staring at him through a shimmering veil of moisture.

  “Did I hurt you again? Is that why you’re crying?”

  “No,” she managed to whisper. “You didn’t hurt me. It’s just. . . too much. I don’t know how I lived through it.”

  He rested his forehead on hers. “I know,” he murmured. What happened every time he touched her was outside his experience too, and out of his control.

  CHAPTER

  10

  They spent most of the day lying entwined on their rough bed. They both slept, feeling the effects of the long night just passed and the exhaustion of their lovemaking. Annie got up once to sleepily check the stew and add more water, and to replenish the fire. By the time she returned to the blankets, Rafe was awake and aroused by her seminudity. The remainder of their clothes were shed, and he made love to her with a slow, lingering power that was no less shattering than before. It was afternoon when they woke again, and the chill of the air made them shiver.

  “I need to check on the horses,” he said regretfully, and put on his clothes. He’d have liked nothing better than to spend a few more days lying naked with her. He only wished they had a proper bed, with thick covers to keep them warm. Funny, he’d never before missed the creature comforts.

  Annie dressed too. She felt boneless, and incredibly languid. She had forgotten about the snow until he opened the door and a landscape of white greeted them along with a rush of frigid air. A pale, unearthly light filled the cabin. It was still snowing, and during the hours they had spent making love over half a foot had accumulated, covering the forest floor and draping the trees in an icy white mantle.

  It was only a few minutes before he returned, stamping snow from his boots and brushing it off his hat and coat. Annie handed him a cup of the coffee left over from breakfast, strong and bitter by now, but he drank it without even a grimace.

  “How are the horses?”

  “Restless, but they’ll be fine.”

  She stirred the stew; it was ready to eat, the rabbit tender after simmering all day, but she wasn’t hungry. She desperately needed some fresh air to clear her he