“You need rest.”

“I had rest.” Feeling awkward, she ran water over the bowls he’d stacked in the sink. “We could probably make at least one museum, or catch a matinee. I don’t want to think you spent your whole day off mopping up after me.”

“Will you quit worrying about my day off?” Zack slapped the container on a shelf in the refrigerator. “I’m the boss, remember? I can take another.”

“Fine.” She slammed the water off. “See you around.”

“Man, you’ve got a short fuse.” Amused, he put his hands on her shoulders and rubbed. “Don’t get yourself worked up, sugar. All in all, I had a very eventful day.”

She closed her eyes, feeling those rough fingers through the silk of her blouse. “Any time, Muldoon.”

He could smell her hair, and he had to fight the urge to bury his face in it. It wouldn’t be possible to stop there. “You going to be all right alone? I could call the cop to come stay with you.”

“No. I’m fine.” Gripping the edge of the counter, she stared hard at the wall. “Thanks for the first aid.”

“My pleasure.” Damn it, he was stalling when he should be out the door. Away from her. “Maybe we can have an early dinner one night this week.”

She pressed her lips together. The way his hands were rubbing up and down her arms made her want to whimper. “Sure. I’ll check my schedule.”

He turned her around. He couldn’t be sure if she moved into his arms or if he’d pulled her there, but he was holding her. Her lips were parting for his. “I’ll call you.”

“Okay.” Her eyes fluttered closed as the kiss deepened.

“Soon.” He felt the breath backing up in his lungs as she molded against him.

“Um-hmm…” As his tongue danced over hers, she gave a quick sigh that caught in the middle.

He tore his mouth away to nibble along her jaw. “One more thing.”

“Yes?”

“I’m not leaving.”

“I know.” Her arms curled around his neck as he lifted her. “It’s just chemistry.”

“Right.” Struggling to remember her bruises, he rained soft kisses over her face.

“Nothing serious.” She shuddered, nipping at his neck. “I can’t afford to get involved. I have plans.”

“Nothing serious,” he agreed, blood pounding in his head, in his loins. He jerked open a door and found himself facing a closet. “Where’s the damn bedroom?”

“What?” She focused, realized he’d carried her out of the kitchen. “This is it. The couch…” She nipped his ear. “It pulls out. I can…”

“Never mind,” he managed, and settled for the rug.

CHAPTER SEVEN

He ripped her blouse. It wasn’t only passion that made him grab and tear. He couldn’t bear to see her wear it another moment, to see that vivid blue stained with spots of blood.

Yet the sound of it, of the silk rending beneath his fingers, and her gasp of shocked excitement, spread fire through his gut.

“The first time I saw you…” His breath was already short and fast when he tossed the mangled blouse aside. “From the first minute, I wanted this. Wanted you.”

“I know.” She reached for him, amazed at how deep and ripe a need could be. “Me, too. It’s crazy,” she said against his mouth. “Insane.” Her skin trembled as he tugged the straps of her chemise from her shoulders to replace them with impatient lips. “Incredible.”

Glorying in it, she arched against him when he took her br**sts in those greedy, rough-palmed hands. Then his mouth—oh, his mouth, hot and seeking—closed over her to tug and suckle. Hurry, was all she could think, hurry, hurry, and her nails scraped heedlessly up his sides as she dragged his sweater over his head.

Flesh to flesh was what she wanted. Skin already hot, already damp. The feel of his lips against her thundering heart had her locking her fists in his hair, pressing him closer. She fretted for more. Even as the storm built to a crisis point inside her, she met, she ached, and she demanded.

Her fingers dug into his broad shoulders when he slid down, setting off hundreds of tiny eruptions by streaking hungry, open-mouthed kisses down her torso. Then back, quickly back, to drown her in desire with his lips on hers.

He couldn’t stop himself from taking. No matter that he had once imagined making slow, tortuously slow, love to her on some huge, soft bed. The desperation of what was overpowered any fantasy of what might have been.

She possessed him. Obsessed him. No mystical siren could have stolen his mind and soul more completely.

A button popped from her skirt as he fought to drag it down her hips. He thought he might go mad if he didn’t rip aside all obstacles, if he didn’t see her. All of her.

Half-crazed, he peeled off her stockings, and the delicate lace that had secured them. Somewhere through the roaring in his brain he heard her throaty cry when his fingers brushed against her thigh. Fighting to hold back, he knelt between her legs, filling himself with the sight of her, slim and golden and naked, her hair tousled around her face, her eyes dark and heavy.

She reared up, too desperate to wait even another moment. Her mouth closed avidly over his, and her fingerstore at the snap of his jeans.

“Let me,” she said in a husky whisper.

“No.” He slipped a hand behind her back to support her, and brought the other down to cover the source of heat. “Let me.”

The volcano he’d imagined erupted at the first touch. Her body shuddered, quaked. And he watched, impossibly aroused, as her head fell back. Not surrender. Even in his own delirium, he understood that she was not surrendering. It was abandonment, the pure, unleashed quest for pleasure. He gave her more, and gave to himself, stroking that velvet fire, letting his tongue slide over hers in a delicious, matching rhythm.

How could she have known that desire could be dark and deadly? Or that she, always so sure, always so cautious, would throw reason to the winds for more of the dangerous delights? No, not just more. All of them, she thought dizzily. All of him. She would have all. Locking her legs around his hips, she took him into her.

She heard his gasp—the first one ended with a groan. She saw his eyes, cobalt now, and fixed on hers as he shifted to fill her. A sword to the hilt. Then he moved, and she with him. Lost in the whirlwind, she heard nothing but the screaming of her own heart.