“We have twenty-four hundred acres, Mari, so you definitely have freedom.” Ken covered his sudden anxiety with a small smile. “Unless you think you’d prefer to be a city girl.” He could never live comfortably in the city, but he knew if she wanted that—needed at least to try—he would go with her.

Mari shook her head. “I wouldn’t do well in a city. Too many people, too much traffic and noise. I prefer solitude.”

Ken let out his breath. “We’re completely self-sufficient here. If we ever ran short of funds, we could harvest trees. We actually have a workable gold mine too, although we’ve never bothered with it. The water supply to the property is gravity-fed, and we use a hydro-electric system that powers batteries.” He wanted her to love the place the way he did, to feel the sense of freedom in the larger-than-life forest surrounding them and the complete self-sufficiency of their home. “Right now we’re using only a very small percentage of the power available to us. Jack and I could live off the land, hunting and harvesting crops if necessary, so this is a perfect place for us.”

“I didn’t expect it to be so big.”

“Right now the house is over three thousand square feet. Jack and Briony have the larger wing. We’ve been working on a nursery for them. We share a kitchen, dining room, and great room with them, and our wing is on the other side. At the moment we have a bedroom, bath, and office, but I have a second bedroom roughed in. The garage nearly doubles the space, so we have plenty of room to expand if we want to, and if Jack and Briony keep it up, we’ll have to very soon.” He flashed a small grin. “They’re expecting twins.”

“You never mentioned that.”

“I like to save the best for last.”

She smiled at him. “That’s kind of scary. Twins run in your family, do they?”

He nodded. “Big time.”

She looked away from him back to the house. “I love the logs. What are they?”

Ken didn’t let his disappointment show. She wasn’t ready for commitment. He had gotten her to his home in the Montana forest; he had to be happy with that and hope he could convince her to stay. “Western white pine. We fitted them together with Swedish cope and used oil to finish them off. Jack made most of the furniture in the house. He’s very good at woodworking.”

“It’s beautiful. I love the porch.”

“The roof is built for warfare, and we have an escape tunnel. We have alarms and a few traps to let us know if unwanted visitors show up. The wood shop is just down there in that meadow, and the smaller garage houses the equipment. We have a vegetable garden in that little strip of land where the sun shines the most. Briony planted the flowers everywhere.”

Mari’s hand gripped his. “Is she here?”

“Don’t sound so scared. No, Jack will bring her tomorrow. He wanted to see her first. He’s protective of her.”

“He still doesn’t quite trust me, does he?”

“Jack doesn’t trust anything or anyone when it comes to Briony,” Ken said. “She’s his world, and if anything happened to her, he’d go berserk. She’ll be here, honey, trust me; she’s excited to know you’re alive and well. Nothing is going to keep her from coming home.”

“Except Jack.”

“For a night. He wants her to himself tonight, and I was hoping we’d have a few hours together.”

Mari stood at the bottom of the steps looking at the wrap-around verandah. The night was falling and the wind rustled through the trees. There was a bite of cold in the air, enough to make her shiver.

“Are you afraid of me, Mari?” Ken asked.

She lifted her hand to his face. As always, in the shadow of the night, the scarring faded away, leaving masculine perfection behind. “No, Ken, it’s not you.” She hesitated as if searching for the right words—or the trust she needed to expose her fears. “It’s me. I don’t know anything about who I am or what I want. When I’m away from you, I feel as if I can’t breathe without you. How can I ever learn to be complete if I go from never making a single decision on my own to being in such an intense relationship?” She looked stricken. “I’m just taking it for granted that you want a relationship. You’ve never said. Not once.”

She retreated, stepping back away from him, away from the house. The forest, with all the gently swaying trees and thick foliage, seemed a refuge, something she knew, somewhere she could hide. She felt exposed and vulnerable and very confused.

“I’ll say it now, Mari. I never want you to leave me. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. I can give you time—whatever you need.” Even as he said it, he didn’t know if he was telling the truth. He wanted to give her time, to give her freedom, but there were limits to his abilities and he knew them better than most people.

She traced the outline of his lips. “You’re frowning.”

“I was lying. I can’t lie to you like that. I’m not a perfect man, Mari. I want to be everything you need, but I can’t watch you with other men while you figure out whether or not this relationship is the one you want.”

“Other men?” Her dark eyes glittered at him. “What do other men have to do with this?”

“I don’t want you looking to other men to help you figure things out.”

Her eyebrows drew together, and both hands clenched into fists. She glanced toward the forest again, then resolutely turned toward the house and stalked up the stairs to the porch to keep from hitting him. “Other men? You have got to be out of your mind. Did you already forget where I came from?”

Mari paced across the porch, furious with him and herself. She’d put herself in a vulnerable position. She didn’t belong here. She stole another look at the forest. She belonged there. She belonged with her sisters. She could trust them. They’d had a plan together, and she had deviated from the plan. She pressed her fingers to her suddenly throbbing temple. What had she done?

He cleared his throat, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and then shoved his hand through his hair in agitation. How the hell did men do this kind of thing on a daily basis? It was like walking through a minefield—one wrong step and everything would blow up in his face. “You’re right, that was stupid of me. I’m not doing this very well.”

“Get over being worried about me and other men, Ken,” she snapped.

He nodded. He’d have to find a way to curb his jealousy fast. She wasn’t a woman to put up with it. There was no way to miss the clenched fist. “Most women would have trouble with the solitude up here. In the winter, the road is impassable without snowmobiles. There aren’t any phones. We have a radio of course, but not too many women want to be so isolated.”

Her gaze flicked to his face. “Do I seem to you the kind of woman who has to be entertained all the time? I’m used to isolation.”

“Mari, I’ve never done this before. Never. I’ve never once brought a woman to this house or wanted a relationship with one. I may be making every mistake in the book here, but I’m trying to be honest, not judge you.”

“Never?”

“Never what?”

“You’ve never brought a woman here before?”

“This is my sanctuary, sweetheart. My home. I come here when the world closes in on me and I need to regroup. It’s calm and peaceful and feels like home. You belong here; no one else ever has.”

“I don’t really know what a home feels like.” She gestured toward the forest. “I look at that and I feel like it’s calling to me. I want to run free, Ken. Just run through the trees.” Her eyes met his. “Could I do that?”

He tried to still his pounding heart. He knew better than to try to hold a wild bird, but he wanted to grab her with both hands. “Of course. Tomorrow we’ll get you a pair of running shoes. You can go out anytime you like. I prefer mornings, but it’s beautiful all the time.”

She didn’t reply, just stood staring at the beckoning trees.

Ken held out his hand to her. She might not be fully committed to a relationship with him, but he was with her. She looked right and felt right in his sanctuary. More than anything else, for all his uneasiness over what to say and do, he felt happy, really happy, just with her being on his property. All he had to do was find a way to make her feel the same way.

Mari put her hand in his and reluctantly followed him to the solid door, trying not to show fear. “How do you keep this house warm when it’s snowing?”

“We use wood heat. We have very efficient fireplaces in the bedrooms, great room, and kitchen. We can close off each wing of the house so it’s private and separate, or open them and have one large home.”

“And Briony lives here year round?” She latched on to that. She wanted to see Briony—just once. One time. She had lived with memories and fantasies about her twin for so long, she wanted to see her.

“We wouldn’t leave her here alone if we were gone on a mission. Jack would never allow that.” The words slipped out before he could censor them.

Mari glanced at him sharply as she stepped across the threshold. “Allow?”

“When it comes to Briony, we’re very safety conscious. I imagine you will be as well. She’s carrying twins, and Whitney has made several tries to take her. His last try cost us part of the house and one outer building, but the son of a bitch didn’t get her.”

Mari looked around her. She could see a woman’s touch in the home, and her heart did a funny little somersault. Her sister. Briony was really alive and well and living right here, in this house. Her sister whom she hadn’t seen in years, but had thought of every single day.

There were thick quilts lying across the backs of well-made furniture, the kind of quilts Mari knew were made with love, by hand. Stained glass was cut above each of the windows, the work intricate and beautiful, colors swirling together to form fantasy pictures undoubtedly chosen, or made, by her sister.

Mari walked through the empty rooms, hearing the echo of laughter, feeling the bond of love woven into the very walls. By the time she reached Ken’s bedroom, tears burned in her eyes and clogged her throat. She couldn’t do this. Why had she thought she could? She wasn’t in the least bit feminine. She couldn’t decorate a house, or be any kind of a wife or partner. She didn’t know about anything but fighting a battle. She should have gone with her sisters—the ones she knew, the ones different in the way she was different. They’d never lived in a home and didn’t know the first thing about living in a relationship.

Briony lived here, and Briony knew exactly how to be a wife and mother. She obviously cared for both men, not just Jack. Mari would never be able to live up to her sister. And she was happy for Briony—she really was. She was just sad for herself and feeling like a complete fool to have thought she could be someone she wasn’t.

Ken’s heart nearly stopped when he walked into his bedroom. Mari stood in the middle of it, weeping. “What is it, honey? What’s wrong?”

She held out her arms as wide as she could. “Look at this place. I don’t know what to do with all of this room. My clothes fit in a locker at the end of my cot. I don’t know how to cook, or take care of a house, or even be in a relationship. What was I thinking?”

He swept her into his arms, holding her close. Her body trembled against his, and he cupped her head in the palm of his hand, pressing her face against his heart, sheltering her as best he could with his own body.

“Listen to me, honey. Neither of us has ever done this. We’re bound to panic, but it doesn’t matter. You hear me, Mari? It doesn’t matter. This is us. The two of us. What is normal for everyone else doesn’t matter. We’ll build our relationship brick by brick, and it will be so strong no one will ever tear it down. I’ll never walk away from you. Never. If there is one thing you can count it, it’s me standing by you. There aren’t mistakes here. We’ll just work it all out at our own pace.”

“But Briony made this place a home, not only for Jack, but for you. I can see that she did. She’s every bit as much your family as Jack is.”

“She lights up Jack’s world, Mari,” he said, trying to follow her train of thought. “Don’t you want me to care for her?”

“Of course I do. You should, but I can’t be like her. I have no idea what to do. I don’t even have clothes, Ken. I’m just here with absolutely nothing.”

He lifted her chin and brushed her soft mouth with his. She sounded so distressed that he felt distressed. “You don’t have to do or have anything. I want you, Mari, not clothes or a servant.”

“Shouldn’t I be putting flowers in a vase? Or pretending to cook dinner?” She looked totally alarmed. “I have no idea how to cook. I’ve never cooked. Never. This isn’t going to work, Ken.”

He realized she was totally panic-stricken. She was staring at the bookshelves and the cases of music. Ken kissed her again. “Do you think that matters? And you can’t put flowers in a vase if I haven’t gotten them for you, can you? Tomorrow we can go into town and get you enough clothes to fill the closet and dresser if that’s what you want. And I’ll buy flowers and a vase, and we’ll put the damn things in it together. None of it really matters to me.”

“Maybe not now, this minute, but sometime you’ll want me to know how to run a household.” She felt totally inadequate thinking about all the things she didn’t know how to do—but that her sister did. Her sister was a stranger to her, had lived in a loving family, not a military barracks. Cami! I need you. Oh, God, what have I done? Panic was new to her. She hadn’t panicked when she was captured. She hadn’t panicked when she was shot, but standing in a real home surrounded by everything unfamiliar to her . . .

“If you want to run it, you’ll figure it out; if not, well, it’s been just fine for years now.”

She clung to him, her confidence shaken. “I’ve never decided when to go to bed at night. Lights out at eleven, unless I’ve caused trouble, and then it’s nine or ten.”

“You can stay up all night, sweetheart.”

“I’ve never been allowed out of my room after nine.”

“If you feel like driving to California, we’ll hop in the car and go. Or if you just want to go into the kitchen and get a piece of fresh fruit, do it.”

“And sit outside on the front porch?” She clenched her teeth together to keep them from chattering. She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Ken, but she couldn’t stay. This wasn’t her. It would never be her. She belonged with her sisters—the women who knew what life with Whitney was all about.

“All night, Mari. Briony likes the roof, although Jack gets a little bent now that she’s really showing. But if it’s the roof, I’m up there with you. It’s one of my favorite spots. And there are trees to climb and trails to hike. Have you ever ridden a bike?”

She shook her head, a fresh flood of tears filling her eyes. “Little children ride bikes and I can’t even do that. I’ve never been on a horse either.”

“We’ve got mountain bikes. I’ll teach you.”

“It’s frightening. I keep thinking about the others, my sisters out there right now, wondering how to make a decision like these. Whitney even maintained our diets for us. I detest taking vitamins.” She watched him closely for a reaction.

“I mix mine in the blender with a killer recipe of fruit and juice your sister told me about, but if you don’t want to take vitamins, then don’t. More than half the population of the world doesn’t. You have the right to make your own decisions on everything, honey.” Ken rested his chin on top of her head. “Unless it comes to personal safety; then my instincts are going to take over and I’m going to be calling the shots.”

“Or other men.” She had to find a way to cope. She had to or she was going to run as fast and as far as she could.

He nearly choked. “We’re not even going there. My heart can’t take it. Our relationship is exclusive to the two of us. Marriage. Husband and wife. Partnership. Team. I can deal with all of the above, but not another man.”

“So there are rules,” she persisted, her stomach settling as she deliberately provoked him.

“Well, sure. Even Jack and I have rules with living on the same property. It’s a matter of respect.”

“So no relationship has two men and one woman.”

“Not ours.” He was decisive.

“But there are some,” she persisted. “Because, you know, there might be some advantages . . .”

He held her at arm’s length, looking down at her upturned face. There was laughter in her dark eyes, the distress fading as she teased him. “That isn’t funny.” But it was impossible not to smile when she was smiling.

“You deserved it. You’re an idiot, you know that? Why do you keep thinking I want other men in my life? I don’t even like men. Well,” she corrected, “most men.”

“So you were teasing me just to get a rise out of me.”

“It was easy. You’re too easy.”

“That’s just wrong, Mari,” he said and bent to take possession of her mouth. She tasted of freedom, sweet and fresh like a summer rain. His arms locked her to him, and his mouth moved over hers, tugging at her lower lip, the one that was so full and sexy and drove him wild whenever he looked at her.

“I love looking at you.” He whispered it, but then switched to a much more intimate form of communication, his mind sliding against hers like the melding of one soul into the other. And touching your skin. You’re so soft, baby, and warm.

She couldn’t respond, because he was taking her breath right into his lungs, bringing her body to life with just his mouth and teeth and tongue. He could create a whirlwind that swept her away from her life and into another one filled with love and passion and family. All with a kiss. Ken, with his scars and hidden demons, with his vulnerability and intense heat, was an exciting blend of gentle and rough. How could she ever think to want another man?

Her arms slipped around his neck, and she pressed her body into his, wanting to share his skin, to relieve the fierce tension that always was beneath the calm surface. He made her feel as if she were the only woman in the world, the only one he ever saw or wanted or needed. She returned his kisses, letting his mouth guide hers.

She’d had many sexual encounters—but none of them good until Ken had come into her life, and she had no idea how to really kiss or love someone. She knew the mechanics better than most, but not how to love a man—and she wanted to love this man with everything in her. It was the only thing she had to give him—before she said good-bye.

“What’s wrong?” Ken’s hands framed her face. “Tell me.”

She couldn’t meet his concerned gaze. He’d just been driving her wild with kisses, and she was thinking that she wanted to make this the best time of his life, and yet—for her it would be the worst, knowing she couldn’t stay.

He bent to kiss her again, this time gently, feather-light, a mere brush of his lips against hers. That little rasp of his scar mixing with the softness of his mouth sent wings fluttering in the pit of her stomach. He hadn’t meant it as a sexual overture, she could tell, but whatever his intentions, he’d sent a surge of heat spreading through her body.

“Mari.” He gave her a little shake. “We have to do this together. I don’t want you hiding from me.”

“That’s impossible when you seem to know what I’m thinking all the time.”

“You need to talk to me.”

Mari pulled out of his arms and crossed to the window. “How am I supposed to tell you I feel completely inadequate at this? Especially when you’re kissing the sense out of me.”

To her shock he burst out laughing as he followed her, coming up behind her and wrapping his arms around her, drawing her back against him. His hands locked over her ribs, the backs of his hands brushing the undersides of her breasts. She was immediately aware of his erection, thick and hard pressed tightly against her buttocks.

“Then we’re both feeling inadequate. I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, other than trying my best to seduce you into wanting to stay with me. I don’t know any other way. I want to be good at a relationship, but look how I live.” He nodded toward the window. “I’m a loner. I always have been. Maybe my life was shaped that way out of necessity. I react violently when things go wrong, and it was always better to be in control of my environment. In point of fact, I’m not good at relationships.” He kissed the side of her neck, his mouth lingering there. “But it’s nice to know I can kiss the sense out of you.”

“That’s not true at all, Ken,” she protested. “You’re really good at this.”

“I’m good at sex, Mari—or I used to be—but I’ve never had sex when it really mattered. Not like this. I never knew a man could feel this way about a woman. I can’t imagine ever touching anyone else—or wanting them to touch me. But I’m not any better at relationships than you are. We’ll find our way together, even if we’re fumbling around in the dark for a while.”

“How could I have stayed there so long? There must have been ways for me to find out if Briony was safe.”

“Whitney controlled her just as he controlled you. He just gave her the illusion of freedom. In the end, when her parents stopped cooperating with his plans for her, he sent a couple of his supersoldiers to murder them. At any time during her childhood he could have snatched her back, and probably would have if you had managed to escape. You kept her safe.”

She leaned her head back against his chest. “At least I did that right.”

“Don’t stay for her, Mari. Stay for me.”

His tone was utterly without expression, but the words conveyed pain. There were so many nuances and she knew most people would never understand Ken. He presented one image to the world and dealt with his monsters alone. She knew what that was like and she didn’t want him to be alone any more than she wanted to be alone.

“I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want to see her desperately. She kept me going all those years. Everything I ever wanted, I dreamed she had. I want to get to know her and look into her eyes and know, not just hope, that’s she’s happy, but I came here for you.” She had. That much was true, but the thought of staying terrified her. She had skills, but none of them were needed here.

Ken wanted to believe her, and he wanted to believe she would stay for him as well, but he was beginning to know her and he could tell she was torn. He couldn’t blame her. He would never be able to step aside the way he did with Jack. He would stand in front of her, and she wanted him beside her. She wanted complete freedom, and he would never be able to give that to her.

At that moment she turned her head to look up at him. “You have shadows in your eyes, Ken. Isn’t it strange how Whitney thinks he’s controlling us with his pheromones, but neither of us would feel so vulnerable if it was just that? Somehow our emotions are involved, as if there really is destiny or a higher power and we were made for one another. No matter what he does with his experiments, he can’t factor that in.”

His hand slipped over her hair. “No, he can’t. He’s a very sad, lonely man. He’s driven by his madness, and his inability to figure out why humans react the way they do. He wants robots able to make decisions, but decisions he deems best. No matter how he inserts animal DNA and genetic capabilities, he’ll never find the perfection he seeks.”

“He thinks he’s perfect.”

“He wants to think that,” Ken corrected, “but he knows it isn’t true. The only decent thing he’s ever done in his life is to stay away from Lily. I hope he continues to do so, but he’s broken her heart.”

“He monitors her all the time. He does everyone. He has a file on you, on me, on your brother and Briony.”

“The one thing we have going for us with Whitney,” Ken said, “is that he wants you to have my baby and he wants Briony to have Jack’s. After the children are born, they’ll be high-risk, but until then, he may leave us alone to see what happens.”

She turned around and began to push up his shirt so she could burrow close to his skin. “I wouldn’t know any more about taking care of a baby than I would a husband.”

“Fortunately, we’re both fast learners.”

“Speak for yourself.”

“I don’t know, honey, you got the hang of making love very fast.”

Mari wanted him again, with every nerve ending suddenly alive and screaming for his body, but she pulled back to look at him—really look at him. Ken Norton could break her heart. Ken had somehow managed to creep into her heart—worse, he’d managed to find a way into her soul. Had her reaction to him stayed physical, she would have been all right, but he threatened her on an emotional level that was frightening.

Ken groaned softly. “I can’t let you think for very long or you lose your mind.” Without preamble he dragged her shirt over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her upper body bare to him. His mouth came down on hers, teeth forcing her to open to him, tongue sliding in to dominate and spread a now familiar heat. He didn’t give her a chance to think, but kissed her hungrily, demanding her response and receiving it.

Mari couldn’t prevent the moan of pleasure escaping as his hands cupped her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples into hard peaks of desire. It amazed her how fast her body responded to him. He bent her backward, his mouth greedy as he kissed her over and over.

The taste of him filled her senses and set her on fire. His mouth teased hers, teeth tugging at her lower lip, tongue licking the ache away. Every flaming kiss added to the building of heat in her center, so that she became uncomfortable with the intensity of her arousal. Need built too fast, her muscles contracting painfully, her womb seizing with need. Each time she suckled his tongue, or his danced around hers, she felt the rush of heat spreading, growing, building, until she felt almost wild with need.

His hands tightened possessively on her breasts, his restrained strength apparent as he massaged the creamy, aching flesh. He pushed her back until she was against the wall, trapped between his body and the hard surface, his thigh sliding between her legs to open her to him. The material of her jeans was too tight and heavy on her body. She wanted it gone.

At once his hands dropped to the zipper and tore it open. He dragged the offending material away from her body, allowing her to kick it aside, taking her panties as well, leaving her naked while he was still dressed. She realized they had somehow connected, mind to mind. She was feeling his rising lust as strongly as he was feeling hers. They heightened each other’s arousal.

It was an amazingly intimate thing to be able to feel his desperate desire for her. Her body flushed at the things he was thinking, the erotic images in his mind. He pushed her against the wall again, his thigh sliding between her legs, the material rough on her spread thighs. She rubbed against him, the friction sending electrical currents through her womb, up to her breasts. The heat was vicious, shocking her with its intensity.

“Take your clothes off, Ken.” His thumbs sent lightning streaking through her nipples. She was going to see to it that this time together was as perfect as she could make it. She shoved aside her doubts and her sorrow and slid her hands under his shirt.

“Not yet. I want to see you this way, naked and wanting me.” His voice was rough with raw desire. He needed to see her this way, so beautiful in her craving for him, her body soft and pliant, flushed with heat, nipples erect, mouth swollen, and eyes glazed.

He held her helpless against the wall, his mouth sliding down her throat, his hands exploring her body. Pinned there, her body completely his, she made him feel invincible. Heady with lust and love for her, he was humbled and excited that she trusted him enough after everything that she’d been through to leave herself so vulnerable to him.

Ken caught her wrists and stretched her arms over her head, holding them pinned together as he bent his head toward her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t stop riding his knee, nearly crying when he pushed his thigh up, pressing against her aching body. He stared at her breasts, the gentle swaying as she breathed in and out, his gaze hot. Through their linked senses he felt the quick hot spasm of lust that clenched her womb when he licked his lips. She arched toward him, but he held her pinned in place, forcing her to wait for him. The ache grew hotter, more concentrated.

His tongue flicked out and curled over one highly sensitized nipple. Deep inside, her temperature shot up, turning her body to molten lava. A cry tore from her throat and pushed her body harder against his, struggling to relieve the terrible pressure. His thigh dropped away even as his tongue licked her like an ice cream cone, savoring each long stroke. Mari thought she might explode with heat.

His free hand slid over her belly, easing the tight muscles with a caressing massage. She was acutely aware of the fingers sliding so close to her aching mound. His mouth closed over the hard nipple, so hot and moist, his tongue flicking at the tight bud, so that her attention instantly was centered there, to the lightning streaking from breast to belly to her feminine channel. Her muscles clenched hard, the spasm whipping endlessly through her as he suckled, yet never relieving the pressure. It continued to build, higher and hotter, until she writhed against him.

“I can’t take any more. I can’t, Ken. It’s too much.”

“Yes, you can.”

His fingers stroked her tummy again, a gentle caress, tender almost, and then his teeth tugged at her nipple and his fingers plunged deep into her melting core. She screamed as fire flashed through her, her head lolling back, pressing her breasts deeper into the inferno of his mouth.

“I’m going to watch you come apart in my arms.”

The wicked, sinful fingers stroked deep inside; his mouth moved to her other breast, and she nearly exploded again. Nearly. But didn’t. The release she needed—craved—never quite came. Only more pressure, more sensation, until every nerve ending was screaming for release.

He suddenly lifted her, taking her by surprise. Her body was so pliant, so shaky, she couldn’t have done anything but hold on anyway. He spread her on the bed, arms out and above her head, legs wide. He tugged at his shirt, dropped it on the floor, all the while drinking in the richness of her body. “You’re so damn beautiful.”

“I ache.” Her hand slid down the side of her breast, her belly, brushed her mound. He caught it, licked her fingers, still never taking his gaze from her, and repositioned her arm, but his gaze was hotter, burning with so much lust it added fuel to her already blazing body.

“Don’t move.” His voice was rougher than ever.

She waited there, her body pulsing with arousal, the rough commands and demands he made on her only adding to the building inferno in her body. She could barely breathe as she watched him shed his jeans with deliberate laziness, heightening her urgency even more. He was breathtaking, his body hard and hot, his hand circling his thick shaft, his fist tight as he approached her. He knelt on the bed between her legs.

Mari raised her hips in a silent plea. He shook his head. “You are so bad, woman. Have a little patience.” His flattened palm came down on her buttocks, sending a flare of heat shooting through her womb.

He lowered his head to her stomach. The muscles rippled and clenched. He kissed her belly button, circled it with his tongue. “I love your scent when you’re aroused. I could live on you, I really could.”

“Don’t.” Her fingers twisted in his hair in an attempt to stop him. She had thought he would take her, relieve the terrible craving, but he was already dipping his head, inhaling her scent, his warm breath blowing over her very core. He moved with deliberate slowness, so that the room itself expanded with the building heat, so that her skin was so sensitive just a slight breeze from the window across her nipples sent flames streaking over her, burning her from the inside out. “You can’t.” She was nearly sobbing, pleading. Terrified he would kill her with pleasure.

“I can,” he murmured, his mouth against her damp heat.

He stroked a sensual lick over her swollen clit, and another strangled scream escaped. His mouth closed around the bud, suckling, his arms pinning her thrashing hips, holding her still while his tongue continued to torment her.

Mari couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, could only feel the streaks of fire burning her alive. His hands were hard on her thighs, holding her open for his pleasure. He made little circles with his tongue, and his teeth rasped over sensitive nerve endings; he licked and sucked, and she went mindless with ecstasy. All the while he controlled her bucking hips, holding her firm against his mouth, taking what he wanted, driving her higher and higher but never allowing her release.

Only when she was pleading helplessly, her small muscles rippling and contracting, did he lift his head, lust etched deep in the lines of his face. He moved over her, trapping her slender body beneath his, the head of his shaft at her entrance, pushing just inside, insisting she accommodate his length and thickness. “Look at me, Mari. Keep looking at me.”

Mari opened her eyes and stared into his. He thrust hard, driving through tight, swollen muscles, burying himself deep, stretching her, filling her, sending her rocketing over the edge with that one stroke. She heard herself scream, but she couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t find her voice, could only flail helplessly beneath him, trying to dig her fingers into the mattress for an anchor.

He rose above her, his face settling into harsh lines as he began to ride her. Each stroke was brutally hard, forcing his shaft through the tight, slick muscles of her sheath, the friction hotter and growing more intense with every stroke.

The terrible hunger never had a chance to ease; it surged high, building all over again, so that she was riding the edge of pain with him. The sensation only seemed to add to the violence of her arousal. His scars dragged over her swollen, silken inner muscles, so that her sheath gripped and clenched around him greedily.

She couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stop the tightening of her muscles, locking down, clamping, squeezing, and contracting around him as her pleasure began to swell to agonizing proportions. It was terrifying to feel so much, to not know where pain started and pleasure ended. She fought the sensations, fought him, twisting and thrashing, but he never stopped the hard, brutal thrusts taking her higher and higher.

She actually felt his shaft swelling inside of her, growing hotter, stretching her impossibly. She gasped as her body spasmed, the sensations erupting into a wild explosion. Her orgasm ripped through her, ferocious and powerful, as he jerked, his face muscles tightening, his teeth clenching. She felt their hearts beating through his shaft, felt him swell even more, and then his hips bucked and hot jets of his release pounded at her rippling, quaking muscles.

“Yes, baby, that’s it, milk me dry.”

She couldn’t stop. Her body clamped down around his, draining him, greedy for him. A harsh groan escaped his throat as his body pumped into hers. She actually felt faint, the edges around her shadowing and darkening. She clung to reality, refusing to be so weak that she would faint from sheer pleasure. There were tears in her eyes, in her throat. Nothing could be this good. Nothing could ever feel like this again.

Ken lifted his weight onto his elbows, hanging his head while he struggled to breathe. He caught her tears with his tongue and then kissed the corners of her mouth.

Mari touched his face. They were still locked together and he was smiling down at her, something very close to love on his face. She swallowed hard. “I can’t move.”

“You don’t have to move. Just lie there and look beautiful. I’m just getting started.”

Her eyes widened. “Started on what?”

“You, sweetheart. I’ve got all night to learn what you like best.”