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He forgot all about what he was trying to prove. She moaned, arching her back as he sank in as deep as he could go. He kissed her throat. Her breasts. Circling her nipples with his tongue before sucking them deep into his mouth.

  It was hot. So incredibly hot.

  She began to move. Riding him as she’d taunted. Lifting over him with slow, erotic little circles of her hips. Looking deep into his eyes the entire time.

  It felt as if she were holding him by a string and cinching him closer and closer until the connection between them was so strong it seemed as if they were one.

  He groaned, the sensations washing over him in a hot, drenching heat. The way she moved, the long, languid rhythm of her hips moving up and down, and the sultry heat in the stable combined in the most seductive, erotic dance of his life.

  She started to go faster. Taking him in and out of her body at a wicked pace as her pleasure intensified, riding him with wild abandon. It was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  She held her hands on his shoulders, using them for leverage as she thrust him deep into her body. Her face was only a few inches from his. Her breasts bounced against his chest. She held his gaze as she clenched around him, drawing him in with slow little pulls.

  He’d wanted to show her that this was only lust; instead it had become the most incredible, intimate moment of his life.

  He felt it again. That hard pull. That dragging under. That sensation of drowning in a whirlpool of something he didn’t understand.

  He was falling. Lost in sensation and the promise in her eyes. He couldn’t seem to get close enough.

  He slid his arm around her waist and kissed her fiercely, succumbing for a moment before suddenly jerking away.

  Furious at himself, at her for doing this to him, he held her hips still. “Enough,” he growled harshly. This position was too intimate.

  The sudden curtailment of pleasure brought a confused look to her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  “I want you on your knees so I can take you from behind.”

  He hated himself even as he said it. He was skating too close to what had happened with her husband and knew it. The base demand. Treating her more like a whore than a woman to be cherished.

  Her eyes widened, and the look on her face cut him to the quick.

  He’d gone too far. He knew he’d gone to far.

  She would never forgive him for this. Maybe it was what he wanted. It would be better this way. Acid ate in his chest, settling low in his belly. It felt so wrong, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

  Tell me no. Slap me like I deserve.

  “Well?” he threw down the gauntlet.

  Part of him wanted her to put a stop to this. The other part feared she would.

  “Am I supposed to run away now? Is this supposed to scare me off? You have no idea.” She shook her head. “Why are you doing this, Lachlan? Why are you acting so mean?”

  “I am mean. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  She held his gaze. She looked at him with compassion and something else. Something that made his heart flip over in his chest. “Aye, I’ve figured it out.”

  The understanding in her voice only made him angrier. “Do you want to fuck or not?” he snapped.

  The vulgarity had no effect on her. She lifted her chin. “Is that what you want?”

  He heard the challenge in her voice and knew what she was asking: Is that all you want? She wanted more from him. He gritted his teeth. “Aye.”

  Neither one of them believed it.

  She shook her head as if he were a child who’d disappointed her. And hell if he didn’t feel like it.

  She lifted herself off him and stood. She was going to leave. He held his breath, a heartbeat away from stopping her. From calling her back. From drawing her against him and showing her all the gentleness and tenderness that she deserved. That he wanted to give her, damn it, but didn’t know how.

  He should have known better. Bella MacDuff was a fighter.

  Slowly, she lowered herself to the ground, spreading out the plaid near the fire. Then, holding his gaze the entire time, she positioned herself on her hands and knees. His heart stopped beating. Not from the mouthwatering display of her sleek backside—although it was spectacular—but from the trust shining in her eyes. Trust he didn’t want, damn it, and sure as hell didn’t deserve.

  He couldn’t breathe through the tightness in his lungs. She was so beautiful and defiant. Daring him to treat her like this. Daring him to deny her.

  Bella watched him struggle, knowing he was scared. Knowing that he was battling himself, not her, and fighting what she offered with everything he had. He lashed back the way he always did, finding the weakness and going in for the kill.

  Did he honestly think he could get to her like this? She’d been played by the master of cruelty and domination and endured far worse than Lachlan could ever manage.

  She hated that he used the pain of her past against her. But even more, she hated that he was taking what they had and trying to turn it into something base and meaningless.

  But it wasn’t. He was trying so hard to be harsh and crude, but the very next minute his tender touch would soothe the sting of his words. He cared. She was sure of it. The way he looked into her eyes, the way he touched her, left her no doubt. What they had was different. She just needed to make him see it.

  “Well,” she asked softly. “Is this not what you wanted?”

  Bella wanted him to tell her no. She wanted him to see that he didn’t need to do this. She wanted him to pull her into his arms. To slide her down gently on the plaid and kiss her until this was all forgotten. To make love to her with all the passion and emotion she sensed burning inside him.

  To admit there was more to them than this.

  But he clenched his jaw, banished his indecision, and moved behind her. He was on his knees, his braies sliding down around them, as he gripped her hips and positioned himself between her legs.

  But he didn’t enter her.

  Her body twitched nervously. She’d assumed this position many times before and had always found it particularly unpleasant—degrading and base.

  But it wasn’t, she realized. Not with Lachlan. She trusted him. He wouldn’t hurt her.

  He splayed his hands on her backside, moving them possessively over her buttocks. “You are so beautiful,” he said hoarsely.

  She felt strangely restless—as though she needed to move. His heavy erection pressed intimately against her, but all he did was touch her. And did he touch her! His hands caressed every inch of her. Sliding over her bottom, along her hips, and up to softly cup her breasts. When one big, battle-worn hand dipped between her legs she gasped.

  He tucked her firmly against him, holding her close and cradling her bottom against his groin. The thick, hot column of flesh wedged against her. She could feel the light dusting of hair on his hard, muscular thighs against the back of hers. One hand plied her breast as the other slipped between her legs.

  “Tell me if you don’t want this,” he whispered tightly in her ear.

  He was giving her the choice. Her heart leapt. It was what she’d been waiting for. He wanted to bully and dominate, to turn this into something base and meaningless, but he couldn’t.

  He did care.

  A rush of heat and dampness had gathered between her legs. His erection pressed more insistently against her backside. Nudging her. Giving her a heady taste of what was to come. In answer she pressed back against him, arching her back to the right angle to accommodate him.

  Heat washed over her. She shouldn’t be feeling this way. Eager. Aroused. Wickedly naughty. The thick head teased at her opening.

  Aye, she wanted this. More than she’d ever imagined.

  He made a harsh sound behind her, pinching her nipple with one hand as the other delved skillfully between her legs. He was opening her wider, using her dampness to ready her for him.

  “Tell me,”