A Warrior s Desire - By Pamela Palmer Page 0,47

him into the seas.

He hadn't wanted to do this again.

With a rush, it all came back to him.

Tarrys insinuating they needed to make love again.

His denial.

This was Tarrys's doing.

Dammit.

Dammit.

If he could have pulled away from her at that moment, he would have, but he was powerless to do so.

His body was lost in the feel of her, lost in the need.

He rolled, pulling her under him as he took over, taking her roughly.

But by her expression, it became quickly apparent that his show of temper only excited her more.

She met him thrust for thrust, her moans growing louder.

The exquisite pleasure on her delicate features made his heart ache.

And made him only more desperate to put distance between them.

Damn her for pulling him back into this.

For stealing his control.

Passion built in his blood, rising between them until he felt her release burst upon her, driving him to his own.

With a roar of pleasure and frustration, he came, pumping his seed into her over and over again.

When it was over, it was all he could do not to roll onto his back, holding her tight against his chest.

Everything irrational inside him wanted to feel her heart pounding in time with his as he filled his senses with her sweet scent and felt her warm flesh against his.

Instead, he levered himself up and out of her, feeding on the anger in order to keep that unwanted need at bay.

"Don't ever do that to me again," he growled.

Almost as soon as the words were out, he regretted his tone, hating the thought of hurting her.

As he grabbed his pants, Tarrys leaped to her feet, hands on her hips.

To his surprise, temper flashed in her eyes.

"Do you notice anything odd about your clothes?" she snapped.

Wet.

God, they were dripping.

Everything about him was soaked.

His brows drew down in confusion as he looked to her for explanation.

He couldn't remember.

.

.

.

She picked up her gown and pulled it over her head, not meeting his gaze.

"You passed out, Charlie.

Right into the water.

When I pulled you out, your skin was more green than tan and I wasn't even sure you were breathing."

She fastened the belt around her waist, then faced him, her mouth hard.

"The only thing I could think to do was to share my power with you the only way I know how."

Her mouth tightened even more, but her chin began to quiver as hot, angry eyes stared at him.

"I'm sorry you find making love with me so disagreeable, but surely it's not worse than dying?" Without waiting for his reply, she snatched up her quiver and bow and took off running in the direction they'd been traveling before the exhaustion overtook him.

Jesus.

She thought he didn't want her.

And he didn't, but... Hell, of course he did.

That was the whole damn problem.

His heart clenched, his anger crumbling.

She'd been more loyal to him, and brought him more pleasure, than any woman he'd known.

The last thing he'd meant to do was hurt her.

Wasn't that the reason he'd been trying to keep things from getting too hot and heavy between them? Because she'd end up getting hurt? God, he'd made a mess of this.

With a shake of his head, he ran to catch up with her.

As he moved, he was amazed all over again at his sudden and total recovery.

Incredible.

He owed her an apology.

Not only because he'd been unfair to her, but because making love to Tarrys was probably the only thing that was going to keep him alive.

God save his sanity.

When he caught up to her, she didn't meet his gaze but stared straight ahead as she continued to run, tears streaking her cheeks.

He felt like the world's biggest heel.

"Tarrys, I'm sorry.

That was a hell of a way to thank you for saving my life."

As he kept pace beside her, he watched her, waiting for her to turn, forgiveness warming her violet eyes.

Instead, she ignored him.

He'd really hurt her this time.

But, seriously, she of all people should understand his getting ticked off at having sex forced on him.

Except that wasn't it, was it? He remembered what she'd said.

I'm sorry you find making love with me so disagreeable.

Hell.

Surely she didn't believe that? And yet, why wouldn't she? How could she possibly know part of his problem was that he found making love to her entirely too agreeable? So much so that he felt as if he was losing himself every time he came inside her.

And that was something he refused to do...to lose himself, to care about someone so much that when they left him...