Raintree Read online

  “I’d be disappointed if you hadn’t.” A smile curved his mouth as he pressed a warm kiss, then another, to her temple.

  “Don’t let it get any lower,” she warned.

  “Are you sure?” Beginning at the waistband of her jeans, he traced a finger down the center seam—down, down, pressing lightly, while his hot palm massaged her bottom. That finger left a trail of fire in its wake, made her squirm and shudder and begin, at least ten times, to say No. He would stop if she said it; the decision to continue or not was hers—but the security of knowing that was what kept the single word unsaid. Instead, all she did was gasp with agonized anticipation, and arch, and cling—waiting, waiting, focusing entirely on the slow progression of the caress, as his hand slowly slid down to dip between her legs from behind. He pressed harder then, his fingers rubbing against her entrance through her jeans, so that the friction of the seam lightly abraded flesh that was soft and yielding.

  He had been bringing her to this point for two days, since that first kiss in his kitchen, patiently feeding the spark of desire until it became a small flame, then keeping the flame going with fleeting touches and something even harder to resist: his open desire for her. She could recognize what he was doing, see the subtle progressions, and even appreciate the mastery of his restraint. Getting into bed with her last night—and then not touching her—had been diabolically intelligent. Since the moment they’d met, he had forced her to do a lot of things, but not once had he tried to force her response. She would have shut him down cold if he had. The spark would have gone out, and she wouldn’t have let it be resurrected.

  His warm mouth moved along the line of her jaw, leisurely nipping and tasting, as if he wanted nothing more than this and had all the time in the world in which to savor her. Only the rock-hard bulge in his jeans betrayed any urgency, and she was pressed so tightly to him that she could feel every twitch, every throb, that invited her to part her legs and let him get even closer.

  Then his mouth closed over hers and the last shred of restraint dissolved. The kiss was hard and deep and hungry, his tongue taking her mouth. Desire sizzled along her nerves, turned her warm and yielding and boneless. His free hand moved to her breasts, found her nipples through the layers of cloth, gently pinched them awake. He had her now; she wasn’t restraining him from any caress, and the clothing that kept his body from hers was suddenly maddening. She wanted the rest of it, all he had to give her, and with a burst of clarity, she knew she had to say what she wanted to say now. A minute from now would be too late.

  The proof of how far gone she was came in the amount of willpower it took for her to tear her mouth from his. “We need to talk,” she said, her voice strained and husky.

  He groaned and laughed at the same time. “Oh, God,” he muttered, frustration raw in his tone. “The four words guaranteed to strike fear in any man. Can’t it wait?”

  “No—it’s about this. Us. Now.”

  He heaved a sigh and pressed his forehead against hers. “Your timing is sadistic, you know that?”

  Lorna slid her hands into the black silk of his hair, feeling the coolness of the strands, the heat of his scalp. “Your fault. I almost forgot.” Her tongue felt a little thick, her speech slower than normal. Yes, this was definitely his fault, all of it.

  “Let’s have it, then.” Resignation lay heavy in the words, the resignation of a simple male who just wanted to have sex. She would have laughed, if not for the heavy pull of desire that threatened to overwhelm everything else.

  She swallowed, struggled to get the words lined up in her head so she could say them coherently. “My answer…to whether or not we do this…depends on you.”

  “I vote yes,” he replied, biting her earlobe.

  “This mind-control thing…you have to stop. I can be your prisoner or your lover, but I won’t be both.”

  He lifted his head then, his gaze going cool and sharp. “There’s no compulsion involved in this. I’m not forcing you.” Anger clipped his words.

  “I know,” she said, drawing a shuddering breath. “I can tell the difference, believe me. It’s…I have to have the choice, whether to stay or go. The freedom has to be there. You can’t keep moving me around like a puppet.”

  “It was necessary.”

  “At first. I hated it then, I hate it now, but you did have valid reasons at first. You don’t now. I think you’re too used to having your way in everything, Dranir.”

  “You would have run,” he said flatly.

  “My choice.” She couldn’t bend on this. Dante Raintree was a force of nature; dealing with him in a relationship would be challenging enough even without his ability to chain her with a thought. He had to bow to her free will or their only relationship could be jailer and prisoner. “We’re equals…or we’re nothing.”

  Reading him wasn’t easy, but she could see he didn’t like relinquishing control at all. Intuitively, she grasped his dilemma. On a purely intellectual basis, he understood. On a more primitive level, he didn’t want to lose her, and he was prepared to be as autocratic and heavy-handed as necessary.

  “All or nothing.” She met his gaze, squaring up with him like fighters in a boxing ring. “You can’t use mind control on me ever again. I’m not your enemy. At some point you have to trust me, and that point is now. Or were you planning to keep me pinned forever?”

  “Not forever.” He ground out the words. “Just until—”

  “Until what?”

  “Until you wanted to stay.”

  She smiled at that rough admission and gripped both hands in his hair. “I want to stay,” she said simply, and kissed his chin. “But at some point I may want to go. You have to take that chance, and if that day does come, you have to let me go. I’m taking the same chance with you, that one day you may not want me around. I want your word. Promise me you’ll never use mind control on me again.”

  She saw his fury and frustration, saw his jaw work as he ground his teeth. She knew what she was asking of him; giving up a power went against every instinct he had, as both a man and a Dranir. He lived in two worlds, both the normal and the paranormal, and in both he was boss. As understated as he kept things, he was still boss. If he hadn’t been the Raintree Dranir, his natural dominance would have been reined in more, but reality was what it was, and he was a king in that world.

  Abruptly he dropped his arms from around her and stepped back. His eyes were narrowed and fierce. “You may go.”

  Lorna barely controlled a protest at the loss of his touch, his heat. What was he saying? “Are you giving me your permission—or an order?”

  “A promise.”

  Breathing was abruptly difficult. Her lips trembled, and she firmed them, started to speak, but he lifted a hand to stop her. “One thing.”

  “What?”

  The green of his eyes almost glowed, they were so intent. “If you stay…the brakes are off.”

  Fair warning, she thought dizzily, shivering a little in anticipation. “I’m staying,” she managed to say, taking half a step forward.

  A half step was all she had time to take before he moved, an explosion of pent-up power that was now released from all constraint. If she was free, then so was he. He swung her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom, moving so fast her head swam. The slow, careful seduction was over, and all that was left was raw desire. He tossed her on the bed and followed her down, pulling at her clothes, his movements rough with urgency, even though she helped him, her own hands shaking as she dealt with buttons and zippers, hooks and laces. He jerked her shoes and jeans off as she fought to unbutton his shirt, peeled her underwear down her legs while she struggled to lower his zipper, hampered by the thrust of his erection.

  He shoved his jeans and boxers down, and kicked them away. Lorna tried to reach for him, tried to stroke him, but he was a tidal wave that flattened her on the bed and crushed her under his heavy weight. His penetration wasn’t careful, it was hard and fast and powerful, taking him deep.