Reed hauled her into his apartment, kicked the door shut with his bare foot, and gripped the back of her neck with his big hand. Fear raced through her body, like the white streaks of lightning racing across the black sky that she could see through the windows facing the alley. Her heartbeat accelerated alarmingly. Perspiration trickled down her spine and between her breasts. The room was warm and humid, like the weather outside. An ancient ceiling fan spun overhead, creaking with each rotation as it blew the tepid air around the room. Even if consciously Ella didn’t realize that Reed’s place had no air conditioning, her damp, flushed body recognized the fact.

The scent of a man permeated the air. Remnants of cleanliness left by an unscented soap. Heat-induced perspiration. A unique muskiness, as personally identifiable as fingerprints. She could not only see Reed, rawly masculine and sexy as hell, but she could smell him, smell the very essence of his masculinity. Her fingers itched to touch him, to comb over his chest, to tease and tempt and entice. Powerless to resist, she gave in to the urge to look him over from head to toe. Her gaze traveled the length of his six-three body, lingering over the wide shoulders and powerful, deeply tanned arms. His jeans were undone and the zipper only halfway up, revealing the tautness of his belly and exposing the pencil-thin line of brown hair that disappeared behind the closure of the zipper. His growing erection swelled, telling her without words that simply touching her turned him on.

The mournful saxophone wail wove around Ella, like unseen, sensual hands caressing her. The cool jazz melody whispered with bass and drums and piano, but gave center stage to the provocative sax. She felt the heat within her as well as the sweltering external temperature that embedded itself in Spring Creek every summer.

Bringing her inspection upward, her glare met Reed’s—the determined, daring gazes of two strong-willed people, neither willing to give an inch. She tried to twist her neck and free herself from his hold. He refused to release her. Her breathing quickened. Reed’s gaze dropped to her breasts, compelling her to watch the rapid rise and fall of her chest—and the peaks of her tight nipples pressing against the cotton dress. Realizing how he was looking at her, and why he was staring so intently, stimulated clenching sensations between her thighs, in the very core of her body.

I don’t want to feel this way. How is it possible that every time I’m near Reed Conway, I get hot and bothered? Why do I want this man in a way I’ve never wanted another?

With his hand secure at the nape of her neck, he drew her toward him, slowly, taking his time, never breaking eye contact, as if their melded gazes connected them physically and emotionally. His cold blue eyes no longer appeared so cold. A white heat burned in their depths.

Don’t be fooled, she cautioned herself. You know Reed isn’t emotionally involved. It’s only sex for him. Nothing more. He wants you the way he’d want any other willing female.

Damn! Was he right? Had she actually come here to see if they could repeat this afternoon’s incredible experience? Had she persuaded herself that she’d come here to demand the truth—had he or had he not poisoned her father’s hunting dogs?—when all along she’d come to him for more earth shattering sex? What sort of woman was she that she had allowed Reed to reduce her to a smoldering mass of sexual needs?

Reeling her in, he snaked out his other hand and grasped the side of her waist; then when the gap between their bodies closed, he wrapped his arm around her. She knew she should struggle more, try harder to get away from him, but she didn’t. When her breasts pressed against his bare chest, he speared his fingers into her hair and jerked her head back, preparing her for his attack.

“Noooo…” she moaned as his mouth covered hers.

The moment their lips touched, she was lost and she knew it. There was a brutality about him that wasn’t akin to cruelty. He was primitive man driven by basic needs. And he made her feel those same primeval desires. Nothing mattered except appeasing those hungers. He didn’t push for entry, instead he ravaged first the upper lip and then the lower. And all the while one of his massive hands held her head in place while the other clutched one of her buttocks. His actions claimed her, a preliminary possession that informed her without words that she was his.

With a desperation felt deep inside, she tried to resist, pleaded with herself to stop before things got completely out of hand. Remember why you came here. If Reed killed Daddy’s dogs… But he didn’t. Somehow she knew he hadn’t harmed Beau and Stonewall and Lee. And if you’re wrong? she asked herself.

Suddenly, when she felt his stiff erection throbbing against her thighs, rational thought ceased to exist. Her body recalled the pleasure of being with this man. And it wanted more. His mouth moved over her chin and down her throat. She gulped in deep breaths. He buried his face against her neck and licked softly. Tiny flicks, damp and arousing, sending shivers dancing throughout her body.

Don’t touch him! Keep your hands off him and maybe you can still resist. But it was already too late. Her arms lifted up, up, up…. Her hands curved over his wide, muscular shoulders. She sighed. Ah, the feel of him.

His hand on her butt pushed her harder and harder against him, until she whimpered and automatically rubbed her mound against his sex. She clamped her hands tighter on his shoulders, her short nails biting into his naked flesh. He groaned, then suddenly released his hold on her head to seek the zipper at the back of her dress. Before she realized what was happening, Reed undid the zipper and lifted her arms to free the dress. The cotton garment slid over her hips, down her legs, and pooled around her feet. She stood before him in only her pink floral panties. As his gaze scorched her bare breasts, she knew why she hadn’t bothered to put on her bra when she’d changed clothes. Heaven help her, she had come to Reed for this. Her father’s dead hunting dogs had been nothing but the feeble excuse she’d given herself for doing what she’d longed to do. Go to Reed.

When he grabbed her, the sensation of hard bare chest against naked feminine breasts took her breath away. At that very moment, she felt as if she’d been born for this. Born to be Reed Conway’s woman. Who he was and who she was didn’t matter. Whatever past history existed between their families was unimportant. Any shame or scandal that resulted from their affair seemed a small price to pay for such indescribable ecstasy.

Reed walked her slowly backward as he kissed her. She made no attempt to resist. The back of her legs encountered the edge of the bed. They ended the kiss. Breathlessly, they stared at each other. She wrapped her arms around his neck. With a gentle shove, he toppled her onto the rumpled bed, and with her arms clinging to him, she brought him down with her. He was big and heavy at first, but he quickly braced himself with his elbows and straddled her, stationing his knees on either side of her hips.

“What the hell is it about you, Ella Porter? I can’t seem to keep my hands off you.”

His hot gaze traveled from her face to her breasts, then lingered. Her nipples tightened even more. The bluesy moan of trumpet and the tinkling chime of the piano played around inside her head, lulling her, seducing her as surely as Reed’s passionate inspection.

He lifted her hand to his crotch and laid it over his erection. She knew what he wanted. While looking at him point-blank, she finished unzipping his jeans and in the process dragged them down his hips just a fraction. His sex sprang free. Impressively large. Undeniably rock hard. He was fully aroused and ready.

“This time I want us both naked,” he said as he proceeded to remove his jeans.

He hovered over her for just a moment before he reached down and grasped the waistband of her panties. She lifted her hips to help him remove the scanty garment. As she lay beneath him, totally naked, every inch of her body revealed to him, her insecurities came into play. Would he find her unattractive? She wasn’t a small, slender woman, no delicate hothouse flower. Would he find her full curves uninviting? Would he think her fat? It had never mattered this much that a man think she was beautiful.

He eased downward, setting one knee between hers to urge her legs apart. She held her breath as he lowered his body by slow degrees until his penis rubbed against the thatch of dark hair that covered her mound. He lowered his lips to her breasts, his breath warm and stimulating against her already pebble-hard nipples. Touch me there, she pleaded silently, but he seemed in no hurry to do as she wished. He rubbed against her, sending waves of longing through her; then, before she had a chance to pull him completely down on top of her, he slid to her side and flipped her over and onto her stomach. She gasped in surprise, completely startled by his actions. When she tried to turn over, he laid his hand in the center of her back and held her in place.

“I want to look at you…all over,” he said, his voice a raspy whisper. “And then I want to touch you and kiss you and lick you until you think you’ll go mad if I don’t take you. I want you begging for it.”

I’m close to that point right now, she felt like shouting. But instead she lay there…waiting. His calloused hands began a sensual survey, caressing her from neck to heels, then returning to cup and fondle her buttocks. While his hand slipped between her legs, he lowered his mouth to her shoulders, his lips warm and tender, his tongue wet. His teeth nipped, then his tongue soothed. She moaned with pleasure. But then he moved his attention to her hips, to her butt, and just when she thought she couldn’t bear anymore, he moved down the back of her legs and on to her feet.

His fingers sought and found her core, then began a repetitive stroking that soon produced a flood of moisture. Preparation for when he fulfilled his promise to take her. But only after you’re begging for it, she reminded herself. Her feminine lips swelled, folding around his fingers, as if trying to trap the feel of him.

“Please, Reed,” she whimpered.

“Please what?” He taunted her with his question, and by suddenly withholding his touch as he eased away from her.

She lay on her stomach, her cheek resting against the pillow. He was going to make her say it. Damn him! She turned over, her movements deliberately leisurely, as if an urgent sexual fire weren’t burning her alive. Avoiding any eye contact with Reed, she lifted her arms over her head and rested them on the pillow, the act thrusting her breasts forward. In her peripheral vision she noted that he watched her like a hawk circling its prey, ready to pounce when the time was right.

“Do you want me?” Ella boldly brought her hand down over her throat, letting her own fingers caress her skin. She looked straight at Reed and saw him swallow hard. “Do you really want me?” She ran her hand over her right breast and nearly cried out when her palm grazed her erect nipple.

“I want you, all right,” he said, his lips twitching with an almost-grin. “But if you think playing this little game is going to force me into taking you before you do a little more begging, then you’d better think again.”

A tremor of apprehension jarred her already crumbling composure. “I want you,” she admitted.

He simply stared at her.

“I want you so very much,” she rephrased.

He continued staring.

“Please, Reed, I need you.”

“Then tell me exactly what you want, babe, and I’ll give it to you.” He leaned over and nuzzled her mound, then kissed her intimately.

Ella thought she might unravel completely. Of their own volition, her thighs separated slightly, just enough for Reed to notice.

“You want that, too?” he asked, grinning. “Say the words, Ella, and I’ll go down on you first.”

The spot between her thighs throbbed unbearably. She reached out and grabbed his shoulders, her gaze focused on his blue, blue eyes. “Damn you. I want you to fuck me. Now.”

With a self-satisfied smile on his face, he parted her legs and slipped between them. He put his mouth on her and flicked out his tongue to tease and taste. She shivered. He slid one hand up her belly and to her breast. His fingers closed around her nipple, and when she moaned, he began moving back and forth from one breast to the other, giving each nipple equal attention. And all the while his mouth and tongue sucked and stroked. Pure sensation took control. She clutched the sheet on either side of her hips, bracing herself for the inevitable.

“I’ve never…this…” She gasped. “This is the first time…anyone…” His tongue worked harder and faster. She moaned. “Ah…ah…ah…” She clutched his head with both hands, keeping him in place, steadying his movements until he burrowed his tongue deeper and deeper.

She cried out when she climaxed, and the world exploded around her in a series of multi-colored lights. While she still shuddered with release, Reed came up and over her, lifted her hips and rammed into her. She took all of him fully and completely into her body, into the hot, wet depths.

His thrusts were deep and hard, driven by pure, frenzied need. She clung to him, moving against him, urging him on. He lunged and retreated, lunged and retreated. Repeating the process, the speed quickly increasing until he was jackhammering into her. Sensation returned to her feminine nub, and once again she felt the tightening that was a prelude to orgasm.

“I’ve never had two,” she murmured as she rose up to kiss his neck. “Oh, Reed…”

He was beyond speech, capable only of beastly grunts. His climax hit him hard. The sounds coming from his mouth were those of an alpha male, roaring to the pack that he had just made this female his personal property. As he jetted inside her, she fell apart, her second release even more profound than the first. She held on tight, her body milking his, draining his fluid while she shook with unparalleled pleasure.

He eased off her, slid to her side, and brought her close, confining her within his sheltering arms. Perspiration coated their flesh.

“Reed?”

“No postmortem, babe.”

She shook her head, then cuddled against him, a myriad of feelings bombarding her. She cared about this man—cared more than was good for either of them.

He kissed her temple, then draped his arm possessively over her belly. “Get some sleep. We both need a little rest before we go at it again.”

“I shouldn’t stay. I should go.” But actions didn’t follow her words. She lay cocooned in his arms, sated and safe.

How odd that she should feel so utterly, completely safe lying naked in the arms of a convicted murderer.

He woke with a start. The tape player he’d borrowed from Briley Joe had kicked off, ending the sexy jazz tunes. But a heavy rain beat down on the metal roof and thunder rumbled overhead. The lights he hadn’t bothered to turn off hurt his eyes. He eased out of bed and walked across the room to switch off the overhead light and the lamp, then closed the bathroom door more than halfway, so that only a two-foot panel of light spread across the floor. He reached down in the plastic cooler, retrieved a beer from the melting ice, and popped open the can. He sipped on the cold liquid as he headed back across the room. Then he sat on the side of the bed and drank his beer while he watched Ella sleep.

He’d had her twice, but he still wanted her. Maybe more now than ever. He didn’t understand this craving for such rare pussy. Why wouldn’t Ivy or somebody like her do just as well? Any woman should do—any willing female who would spread her legs for him. But that wasn’t the case. He wanted Ella. Only Ella. He wanted her every way a man could want a woman and then some. He’d nearly lost it when she told him that he was the first man who’d ever gone down on her. That confession made him want to give her more pleasure than she’d ever known. And her admission that no man had ever brought her to a second orgasm had given him a heady sense of power and pride.

He reached out, lifted a lock of her silky black hair, and curled it about his index finger. Ella was one fine-looking woman, and responsive to his every touch—as if he and he alone had the ability to bring her to life.

They were as wrong for each other as two people could be. The judge and the ex-convict. The housekeeper’s son and the senator’s daughter. If the truth hadn’t been so sadly, pathetically true, he would laugh.

Ella’s eyelids flickered. When she awoke, would she leave? Would she look at him with regret in her eyes? He didn’t want her to go. Not until he’d slacked his desire for her. She opened her eyes and looked up at him, then smiled.

He loved her smile.

“Reed?”

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t poison my daddy’s three hunting dogs last night, did you?”