His oath was brief and vicious. "Boots," he managed, fighting to pry hers off while his blood screamed. She was draped around him, that wonderful body sliding over his, her hands... Those incredible elegant hands.
Boots thudded where he heaved them aside, then, quick as a snake, turned to take her.
She was tangled around him, all long, silky limbs. He wanted her naked and writhing beneath him. He wanted to hear her scream his name and watch the jolts and shocks of pleasure glaze her eyes. Breath ragged, he dragged the slacks down her hips. In one reckless swipe, he tore the lace to shreds. Even as her gasp echoed off the walls, he shoved her back. And used his mouth.
The climax slammed into her, a bare-knuckled punch that knocked her senseless. Reeling from it, she sobbed out his name. And, shuddering, shuddering, hungered for more.
He gave her more. And took more. Each time she thought he would end it, must end it, he found some new way to batter her senses. There was only him, the taste, the feel, the smell of him. They rolled over the floor in a wild, glorious combat, her nails digging ruthlessly into his back, his mouth searing hers.
Nearly blinded by need, he gripped her hands, fingers vised. He thought his own breathing must tear his lungs apart. Her face was all he could see as he drove himself into her. Twin groans mixed. A log shattered thunderously in the grate.
They trembled, watching each other as they savored that timeless instant of mating.
Muscles straining, he lowered his head, covered her mouth. When the kiss was at its deepest, when her flavor filled him as intimately as he was filling her, they began to move together.
It was the cold that finally roused Regan. Though it seemed impossible, she thought she must have fallen asleep. As she struggled to orient herself, she discovered her back was against the cold, hard wood of the floor, pressed firmly against it by the weight of Rafe's body.
She looked around dazedly. Somehow or other, they'd gotten themselves several feet from the fire.
"You awake now?" Rafe's voice was thick, a little sleepy.
"I guess." She tried a deep breath, was relieved to find she could accomplish it. "I can't really tell."
He shifted his head, skimmed his lips over the curve of her breast. Her exhausted body quivered in response.
"I guess I can tell after all," she said. . "You're cold." He shifted, hauled her up and put her back on the sleeping bag. Wished, for her, that was a feather bed. "Better?"
"Yeah." Not quite sure of her moves, she tugged a corner of the bag up to her chin. She'd never been so exposed, so completely naked, body and soul, before anyone. "I must have dozed off."
"Just a couple minutes." He grinned at her. He felt as though he'd climbed a mountain. And could climb ten more. "I'll put another log on."
Naked and easy, he rose to go to the woodbox. The scratches scoring his shoulders had Regan's mouth falling open. She'd done that. She'd actually... Good God. "I, ah, should go. Cassie'll be worried."
Rafe set the screen back in place. Without a word, he reached into the duffel bag beside the woodbox and took out a cellular phone. "Call her."
"I... didn't realize you had a phone."
"It's a tool on a job like this." He handed it to her, then sat down beside her. "Call her," he repeated. "And stay."
She was sure there were reasons why she should go. But she dialed her own number, watching Rafe as the phone rang.
"Cassie, it's Regan. Yes, everything's fine. Snow?" Baffled for a moment, she pushed her hair away from her face. "Oh, yes, it's really coming down. That's why I'm calling. I got, urn, involved, and I think..."
She trailed off as Rafe tugged the corner of the bag out of her hand, as his fingers trailed down the curve of her breast.
"What?" She swallowed, then bit back a moan. His mouth had replaced his fingers. She slid bonelessly to her back. "Pennsylvania?" she mummied. "No, I'm not in Pennsylvania."
Rafe took the phone from her limp fingers. "She's with me. She's staying with me. No kidding? She'll call you tomorrow. Right."
He clicked the phone off, set it aside. "Cassie says we've got over a foot out there, the streets are a mess, and you should stay put."
"Oh." She closed her eyes, lifted her arms. "That's very sensible."
The candles had guttered out and the fire had burned to embers when she awoke. The house was so still, so quiet, she could hear her own heartbeat. The room was filled with shadows and darkness, but it was oddly peaceful. Perhaps the ghosts slept, she mused. Or perhaps she felt at ease with them because Rafe slept beside her.
She turned her head and studied his face in the dying firelight. Asleep or not, she mused, there was no innocent-little-boy look about him. All that power, and the potential for violence, were still there, carved into his face.
She knew he could be gentle, caring. She'd seen that in the way he was with Cassie. But as a lover, he was demanding, relentless and rough.