Always on My Mind Page 0,36

all the while he refused to let himself remember how Lori's tongue had felt against his skin.

Or the way her lithe curves had fit against his while her toned legs were wrapped around his waist and her strong arms were locked around his neck.

Nor would he let himself remember that she'd looked like a beautiful witch who couldn't have been more pleased by the storm she'd brewed up.

And while he was at it, he would also force himself to forget how beautiful the sound of her laughter had been...and that even in the middle of the rain, that sound had warmed him better than the sun ever had.

It was the first time he'd seen her laugh like that, with her whole body, her entire heart and soul behind the happy sound. When she'd opened up her arms to the storm and tilted up her face to let the rain wash over her, she not only looked like she belonged on his land, she looked so beautiful that he'd felt as if something inside of him had been struck by lightning.

He yanked open the door to the old log cabin, harder than he should have considering the age of the hinges. Early settlers had come here and laid down stakes and dreams in the West. Harsh weather often tore through this part of the coast, but right in this spot, the mountains and trees gave enough shelter from the worst of the rain and the wind. From the porch, there was nothing but open land and ocean as far as the eye could see.

Grayson had never come here with anyone else, had kept it as his own private space all these years, had never even been tempted to bring anyone else here with him.

Lori Sullivan was the last person he wanted in his sacred space. She was too loud. Moved too fast. Needed too much.

Grayson gave endlessly to his animals. To his land. But never again did he intend to give any part of his soul to a woman.

Inside the cabin, he couldn't find her at first, not until he realized she was kneeling in front of the fireplace, lighting matches that were blowing out immediately. There was a pile of wasted matches on the ground in front of her.

Damn it, he asked himself in a silent but furious voice, why the hell did his senses come alive every single time he looked at her?

The anger that came from having to acknowledge he'd never felt quite so alive in all his life than he did when he was with her, had him biting out, "I'll get the fire going."

He knew better by now than to think she'd listen to his orders, and she didn't disappoint. She didn't look up at him from the floor, either, as she muttered, "I know how to start a fire," then lit another match.

He dropped the wood in a pile beside the fireplace and yanked the box of matches from her. "You're going to waste them all."

Only just as he said it, the fire she'd laid in the stone fireplace finally took. He waited for her look of victory, but she didn't give him one, didn't look at him at all as she stood up and moved away from him.

Guilt twisted in his gut at the way he'd ordered her to get inside earlier. But didn't she see that she simply should have held on so that she didn't fall off the horse, rather than moving in his arms like a woman did when she wanted a man, or, worse still, slicking her tongue over his skin? And making him want her with a fierce fury that stunned him.

She was pushing him all the way to the edge...the very last place he'd sworn ever to go again.

Of course, just because he'd hurt her feelings didn't mean she could keep her mouth shut for more than five seconds. Even while they were out working on the fence, she'd been humming show tunes in an off-key voice the entire time.

"I've read so many books about this exact thing happening in England," she muttered, "when the hero and heroine get caught in a storm and have to take shelter in an old cottage. You'd be a duke and I'd be a virgin who's afraid to be alone with you in case you lose control and can't stop yourself from taking my innocence." She made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and irritated laughter as she shook out