With only the blazing sun above them, he tangled his hands in her panties, tossed them away, and splayed her legs on each side of his hips. As he reared back on his heels, the sun fell hot on the vulnerable inner skin of her thighs. He never took his eyes off the moist softness he'd exposed even as his hands went to his zipper. He was out of control, this man of logic and reason. Stripped of his gentleman's veneer.
The shadow of his body blocked the sun. He opened his jeans. She could have yelled at him to stop-could have pushed him off-could have smacked him in the head and told him to snap out of it. He would have. She knew that. But she didn't. He'd gone wild, and she wanted to race into the unknown with him.
He reached under her and angled her hips so she had to take all of him. No drawn-out foreplay, no painstaking torment and exquisite teasing. Only his own need.
Something sharp scraped her leg . . . A rock dug into her spine . . . With a dark moan, he drove into her. As his weight pressed her into the ground, he shoved up her top and bared her breasts. His beard scraped her tender skin. An awful tenderness filled her as he used her body. Without courtesy, without restraint or civility. He was a fallen angel, consumed by darkness, and he took no care with her at all.
She shut her eyes against the blinding sun as he pumped inside her. Gradually, the wildness that had claimed him claimed her as well, but it happened too late. With a hoarse cry, he bared his teeth. And then he flooded her.
The harsh sound of his breathing rasped in her ears. His weight pushed the air from her lungs. Finally, he fell off her with a moan. And then everything was still.
This was what she'd wanted since the first time they'd made love. To break through his control. But the cost to him had been too great, and as he came back to himself, she saw exactly what she knew she'd see. A good man stricken by remorse.
"Don't say it!" She slapped her hand over his bruised mouth. Slapped his jaw. "Don't say it!"
"Jesus . . ." He scrambled to his feet. "I can't . . . I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry. Jesus, Meg . . ."
As he pulled his clothes together, she jumped up next to him, shoved her skirt down. His face was twisted, agonized. She couldn't bear to hear his tormented apology for being human instead of a demigod. She had to do something quickly, so she poked him hard in the chest. "Now that's what I've been talking about all along."
But he'd gone pale, and her attempt at deflection fell flat. "I can't-I can't believe I did that to you."
She wouldn't give up so easily. "Could you do it again? Maybe a little slower this time, but not much."
It was as if he didn't hear her. "I'll never forgive myself."
She hid behind bravado. "You're boring me, Theodore, and I have things to do." First she'd try to give him back his self-respect. Then she had to face her parents. After that? She needed to turn her back on this town forever.
She grabbed her panties and adopted a cockiness she was far from feeling. "I realize I have managed to royally screw up the future of Wynette, so stop messing around here and do what you do best. Start cleaning up other people's messes. Find Spence before he gets away. Tell him you lost your mind. Say that everybody in town knows I'm unreliable, but you still let yourself get sucked in. Then apologize for fighting with him."
"I don't give a damn about Spence," he said flatly.
His words struck terror in her heart. "You will. You really, really will. Please. Do what I say."
"Is that asshole all you can think about? After what just happened . . ."
"Yes. And it's all I want you to think about. Here's the thing . . . I need an undying declaration of love from you, and you're never going to be able to give me that."
Frustration, regret, impatience-she saw them all in his eyes. "It's too fast, Meg. It's too damned-"
"You've been more than clear." She cut him off before he could say any more. "And no big guilt trip after I go. To be honest, I fall in and out of love fairly quickly. It won't take me long to get over you." She was talking too fast. "There was this guy named Buzz. I went through a good six weeks feeling sorry for myself, but, honestly, you're no Buzz."
"What do you mean, after you go?"
She swallowed. "Strangest thing, but Wynette's lost its appeal. I'm taking off as soon as I talk to my parents. And aren't you glad you don't have to be around to witness that conversation?"
"I don't want you to leave. Not yet."
"Why not?" She studied him, looking for some sign she might have missed. "What am I supposed to stay around for?"
He made an odd gesture of helplessness. "I-I don't know. Just stay."
The fact that he wouldn't meet her eyes told her everything. "Can't do it, pal. I-just can't."