ng silence, both of them breathing heavily.
“I think you’re scared of touching me because you know it won’t be sterile and safe,” she challenged.
“Cut your crap, Katie,” he muttered, his accent thicker than refrigerated molasses. He stared at the fire before he shut his eyes as though the flames had scalded them. “If you stay here, I’m going to have you soon enough. I don’t think I can control it. I’ll take my fill of you, too. I don’t think you have any idea what that means, the state I’m in.”
She slammed down her glass of soda on the table hard enough to make the liquid splash onto her hand. “At least if you were fucking me blind, you wouldn’t be drinking yourself into a grave.”
She didn’t glance back at him as she stalked out of the room. At that moment, she couldn’t stand to look at Rill Pierce a second longer. She vibrated with anger.
How dared he accuse her of not knowing what love was? How dared he accuse her of coming here on a selfish whim?
How dared he?
He stood beneath the spray of frigid water and reached for his drink. It was his first drink of the evening, and Rill knew it’d be his last. Neither a cold shower nor whiskey could dampen the memory of Katie sitting there in the fire-lit room. He was learning from solid experience Katie wasn’t expunged easily from his mind, period.
She’d been wearing some kind of stretchy gray skirt that hit her at midthigh and those supple leather boots that drove him nuts for some damn reason. The mild autumn had persisted. Her smooth legs had been bare. She’d looked as sinful as an unmade bed when she’d strutted into the diner this afternoon wearing that godforsaken skirt and a tight T-shirt that she’d knotted at the hip, her long, shapely bare legs on display for all the world to see.
When she’d sat down on the couch in the living room, the skirt had risen on her thighs. He’d resented the fact that he needed to talk with her about something as serious as her quitting her job—not to mention what he’d allowed to happen the other night—and all he could concentrate on was the tempting V between her legs. He knew firsthand the type of nonexistent underwear she wore.
All he could consider was how close he was to paradise.
Well . . . then why can’t we? We’re both adults.
He clamped his eyelids shut as lust shot through him at the memory of her speaking the words. She was such a wild thing, such a gypsy child. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing, offering herself to him like that.
She’s not a child, a voice in his head reminded him, a greedy voice that he associated with his stiff cock. She’s a grown woman. She knows the consequences. It’s her choice to make.
He shut off the water but he didn’t get out of the tub immediately. He stood there with his hand on the handle and his head lowered.
She didn’t know the consequences, but he wasn’t so sure he did, either. Maybe that was what made him so wary about touching Katie Hughes.
None of it mattered. None of his self-recrimination; none of his self-doubts. He’d have her. Maybe he’d be able to control his hunger once he touched her, but nothing . . . nothing could keep him away from her at this point.
He didn’t bother to quiet his steps on the stairs. Best she knew he was coming. She might have heard him breathing it was so quiet in the old house, and his lungs were heaving choppily from acute anticipation.
The dormer bedroom was swathed in pitch blackness. There was a tiny green light next to the bed—probably a clock. Rill used it to navigate through the room. He heard the sheets rustle and knew she was awake before he reached for the bedside lamp. He stifled a curse with effort when the dim light came on.
She lay on the bed naked, her hair spread out around her torso like an opened cape. She looked serene but watchful as she inspected him.
For two seconds, he almost turned and walked away. This was much, much bigger than he’d expected, and he’d bargained on plenty.
“While I’m here with you, don’t plan on touching anyone else,” she whispered.
He swallowed thickly and nodded. He couldn’t have spoken if he tried. The realization that her naked beauty had nearly brought him to his knees made him glance away in order to save himself. His gaze landed on the scarf she’d worn twisted around her neck with artistic carelessness earlier. Her eyes moved, but her head remained immobile when he picked it up and stepped toward the head of the bed.
“Give me your wrists,” he said gruffly.
Uncertainty flickered across her beautiful face. Not fear, thank God, just confusion.
“You have to let me be in control of this, Katie. It’s the only way I can do this thing.”
Her facial features tightened when he said that . . . this thing. He couldn’t even bring himself to put into words what was happening between them. She slowly lifted her arms above her head, the motion making her back arch slightly. He ripped his gaze off the vision of her round, pink-tipped breasts rising in the air, tempting him. She didn’t say anything as he bound her wrists together firmly. He gently pulled her arms farther over her head and used the scarf to restrain them to the wrought-iron headboard. He stepped back.
It was a little hard to look at her, she was so beautiful at that moment. For a few seconds he just stood there, a mortal in the presence of unearthly beauty, a worshipper at a shrine of sex and voluptuous pleasure.
“Don’t,” she whispered when he reached for the lamp.
He ignored her and plunged the room into darkness.