standing between his legs. He lifted her off the floor, turning her so that she lay on her back on the cot, the swiftness of his actions startling her.
He covered her with his body, his elbows on either side of her shoulders holding his weight off her. His hands cupped her face, massaging her scalp, her temples, her lips, as he planted kisses on her nose and eyelids, filling her with a wild fire, a sweet longing that forced her body toward a swirling tempest.
He stood to finish undressing, and she watched him because she wanted to and he wanted her to, and there was no one to tell her it was wrong. She studied him as she'd longed to do that day at the beneficio, memorizing every muscle, every contour of his magnificent body. The thought of unleashing all that male power made her weak inside, her body almost fluid. The raw intensity in his gaze stole her breath.
The reality of Jason Sinclair bore hardly any resemblance to the man she'd expected from his letters. And yet, she would not trade the reality for the fantasy if given the chance. She remembered fearing what he would be like after so long without social contact—savage, coarse, barely human. Now she found that the very wildness she'd feared was the thing that set her heart to pounding and caused the raw yearning deep inside her.
Her mind stopped functioning as she surrendered to passion, swept away by his ardor. He was all over her... his hands... his mouth, touching her, tasting her, robbing her will. His hardness huge and full against her sent jolts of fear and desire pulsing through her body. His profound maleness overpowered her and left her trembling like a maiden. Three years of marriage might never have happened.
One hand cupped her face as he kissed her deeply, possessively. His other caressed its way over her shoulder to her breast, his finger and thumb tugging and teasing her nipple, then moving lower, lower until he found the moist heat between her thighs.
His fingers slid into her and she cried out, arching her hips toward him, panting now with a sweet madness as his lips trailed a path of fire down her neck. He demanded nothing less than total surrender, and her body obeyed, trembling with fervency deeper than anything she'd ever experienced or imagined.
He raised his head to look at her, his back bowed so that their faces touched, his rasping breath warm and sweet on her lips. His fingers were gone now, replaced by the velvet hardness that touched the opening to her center.
He whispered her name, his soft, strong voice quivering down her spine as his legs forced hers wider apart.
A ragged gasp rumbled up from inside her, and he hesitated, gauging the cause—pain, fear, passion? When her body arched toward his, it took every ounce of restraint in his being not to take her quickly, forcefully, and end the agony in his loins. But he remembered her reaction to his earlier violence and felt the delicacy of her small, soft body. She seemed so fragile he feared he might crush her if he weren't careful.
He hadn't meant for this to happen when he'd come looking for her, but from the moment he'd walked into the hut and seen her standing there, her breasts barely covered by her crossed arms, he'd sensed a frightening inevitability about everything that had led them to this moment. Still, he would have stopped had she reacted in fear or revulsion, had she denied him in any way. She had not.
He sensed her body opening beneath him, even before he began to press gently into her yielding flesh. Soft moaning sounds rumbled up from her throat as he pushed himself deeper into her, sounds she could not control any more than she could control the way her body clung to his or the way the pulse in her throat beat fitfully beneath his lips.
He wanted to absorb her into himself and make her a part of him forever. He needed to feel her arms, soft and firm, holding him against her warm, willing body. For just a little while, he needed to believe that she was his completely, that nothing could ever drive them apart, that the darkness of the past could be conquered.
She gave a sharp cry as he penetrated her depths, and he went still, though the urge to thrust pounded in his blood. He wanted to savor the feel