she asked.
The sincere words, the look, seemed to shorten the distance between them. As solid and caring as entwined hands, they connected Dylan to Kitty in a way he hadn't let himself connect to anyone in eight years. Ignoring the sensation, he smiled down at her with the slow ascent of one eyebrow - the wolf looking at Little Red Riding Hood and licking his chops. "I'm starved for sex."
A blade of shame stabbed him, but, damn it, he had to extinguish that soft light in her eyes.
Kitty stiffened. "And I'm supposed to be your banquet?"
He shrugged. "We're married, after all."
She narrowed her eyes. "And we both know how thrilled you are about that."
"That doesn't mean we can't have some fun with it. C'mon, Kitty. You said you wanted to let those Wilder genes out to play. Prove it." Prove it to me so I'll be able to walk away.
He wasn't surprised when she tossed her head, but he saw the betraying flush on her cheeks. She ignored him for the rest of the walk to work, but at her two o'clock arrest, her cheeks flushed pink again the moment he threw open the door of The Burning Rose. When he heaved her into the jail cell, witnessed by a gaggle of tourists enjoying the show, he reached through the bars and pulled the feather from her hair.
She tried to snatch it back, but he evaded her grasp to brush it under her chin. "All over you," he mouthed, his back to the audience. "I want to stroke this all over you."
Gooseflesh rose on her throat, then waved across all the bare skin exposed by the neckline of her dress. He swallowed, so distracted by the sight that he didn't react when she grabbed the feather from his suddenly lax hand and jammed it back into her hair.
"Behave yourself," she whispered, glowering.
Then he grinned, slow and confident. "Not on your life."
At precisely 3:58, he left the jail to make the day's coup de grace arrest - the one designed to heat her up so hot that tonight she'd set his sheets aflame. It was 4:00 on the dot when he threw open the front door of The Burning Rose and it crashed against the wall.
Kitty's eyes went wide as his booted feet rang against the waxed plank floor.
Even wider when, instead of pulling out the handcuffs and clapping a manacle on one of her wrists, he ran his palm up her bare arm and cupped her by the back of the neck. "Miss Kitty Wilder, you're under arrest for the crime of keeping and maintaining a house where men and women of evil name and fame are drinking and misbehaving themselves."
"M-misbehaving?" She tried edging away from his hand on her neck, but he tightened his hold.
"Definitely misbehaving. Come along with me. There's a fine to be paid."
Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. "A fine? My usual punishment is a night in jail."
The crowd in The Burning Rose was enjoying the entertainment, but he could feel Kitty quivering beneath his hand. He smiled. "The sheriff has a fine he wants to discuss in private with you."
Her quivering became an all-out tremble as the people around them laughed knowingly. "Then the sheriff can pay for my private time like all the other gentlemen in town," she said, her smile sweet but sharp. "Now release me, sir."
Instead of obeying, he hauled her close against his body. "We're talking about what you owe, honey. Let's go."
Followed by the usual Sunday afternoon mob, he marched her toward the jail, congratulating himself on having found the surefire way to achieve the upper hand with her. The front of his body rubbed against her back as they moved down the street, his hips brushing the high, round curves of her butt.
"Give me some room," she said through her teeth.
"Can't give you a chance to get away," he murmured beside her ear. His body scraped against hers again. "You feel good."
Her spine steeled, and what he could see of her face, her neck, and one cheek, burned bright red.
Dylan smiled to himself, feeling the satisfaction of a man on the way to regaining dominance over his world. When she suddenly halted, standing firm in the dusty road, he was so surprised he almost plowed her over. "Wha - " he began.
"Sheriff," she declared, whirling to face him, "I've had enough of this inconsiderate treatment. I challenge you to a duel."
"A duel?" he echoed, feeling for the fake guns in the