Forbidden Fantasies Bundle(51)

“Why have you come?” she asks the highwayman, breathless with need and relief.

“To claim you, to make you mine, to brand you with my mouth, my hands, my cock.” His voice is fierce. But she knows his anger is not for her. He is furious because his passion for her is beyond his control. Why else would he come when he risks prison, torture, death? Because he must have her. Without her, his life means nothing to him.

“But we agreed that you must go,” she says. “It is not safe for you to stay. They will arrest and hang you.”

“To hell with what we agreed. To hell with what they will do to me. I will have you now.” He strides to her bed. His eyes burn as if they will brand her, too. Brand her as his until he has his fill.

He straddles her needy body—in her fever, she’s thrown back the coverlet, her nightgown tossed off because of the heat—and he stretches her arms overhead, clasping her wrists to keep her in place. He lowers his head and takes her mouth with his hungry lips.

She struggles against his hold on her, but not for long. She revels in his power over her, because she knows her power over him is equal, if not stronger. His kiss deepens, liquefying her. She feels his hard need against her belly and she rubs against him. She is desperate, she is wanton, she is…coming.

Samantha’s eyes flew open. Someone was leaning on her doorbell. She looked at her clock—4:00 a.m. It was Rick, right on time. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of her very last Rick fantasy.

“Hang on,” she shouted, leaping out of bed. She hopped into her shorts, yanked on a tank top and ran out of her bedroom.

Scurrying for the door, she smoothed her hair with one hand and scrubbed her teeth with an index finger.

Rick buzzed again.

“Just a sec!”

Buzz.

She twisted the knob and yanked open the door. “I’m here, okay?”

“Hey, there.” Rick looked completely relaxed and hotter than hell in a khaki vest over a plaid shirt with rolled sleeves and he held two to-go-cups from Starbucks. He took a lazy, appreciative survey of her body. “You’ll want jeans and long sleeves for a while,” he said, handing her one of the coffees. “Two creams, no sugar, right?”

“Perfect.” He’d noticed how she liked her coffee. The idea warmed her as much as the cup in her palm. She backed up, letting him in. “I was up earlier, but I drifted back to sleep.” Imagining you as a dangerous highwayman. “Do I have time to shower?” She sipped the coffee, though she hardly needed caffeine. One look at the man had adrenaline pounding through her veins.

“Not if we want the best light. I have a spot in mind for sunrise.” Early morning and dusk were best for outdoor shots, she knew. Full sun offered harsh shadows.

“Let me brush my teeth and pull on pants.”

She rushed through basic hygiene, slipped 501s over her shorts, a chambray shirt over her tank, and yanked on socks and hiking boots. She’d packed her camera gear the night before at least.

In the dim living room, she found Rick studying the portrait of her parents on the mantel over her small fireplace.

“You take this?” He turned to her.

“Yes. And they weren’t happy about it, either.”

“They look a little—”

“Stiff? Disapproving? And that’s on a good day.” She shook her head, then caught his questioning look. “Let’s just say their opinion about the proper way to live is carved in stone.”

“So they wouldn’t like you splashing around, making waves?”

“Not really, no.” They wouldn’t like her studio and they wouldn’t like her plan to sleep with more than one man, either. Or any man, for that matter, without a ring on her finger.

“You look nice, by the way,” Rick said. “Should have my camera. First rule of outdoor photography—always be ready. Good subjects don’t hold still.”

“I’m a mess,” she said, pushing back her tangled curls.

“You look great. Soft and warm and fresh from bed.” His eyes held longing. “That your bag?” He nodded at her canvas satchel.

“That’s it.”

He leaned forward to grab it, then went to hold the door for her.

He held the Jeep door, too, and waited for her to get comfortable before he closed it. Such a gentleman. The truck was clean and orderly and smelled of him. She was still inhaling greedily when he climbed in beside her.

He smiled—had he caught her?—but didn’t say anything, just put his coffee in the holder and started the car.

“Will we be using four-wheel drive?” she said, taking a sip of the rich blend, hoping there wouldn’t be a lot of hiking involved.