Wyoming Strong. Diana Palmer

      He forced himself to slow down, although her mouth was the sweetest nectar he’d tasted in years. He smoothed his lips tenderly over her top lip, teasing it, toying with it, in a silence broken only by the raspy sound of his own breathing and the quick rhythm of hers.

      “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “Don’t fight me. Open your mouth under mine. Let me taste you...”

      She’d never felt anything quite like it. Her hands had a death grip on his neck, cold and tremulous as she let him kiss her. It had been years since she’d even tolerated a kiss. His mouth was sensuous, firm, very expert. She didn’t know what to do, but she did relax just a little. It felt good. It felt...wonderful. Nothing like the man in her nightmares...

      He lifted his head a few seconds later and looked into her wide, curious black eyes. “You don’t know how to do this,” he said in a deep, almost shocked tone.

      She swallowed. She could taste him on her mouth, tasted coffee and something like mint.

      He was fascinated. He bent to her mouth again, drew his ever so softly over it, smiling faintly, because she wasn’t resisting him.

      “Like this,” he whispered, and taught her the brushing little caresses that were tender and slow and arousing.

      She followed his lead, her heart racing. He was her worst enemy in the world, and she was letting him kiss her. Not only that. She was...kissing him back. He tasted like honey...

      “That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Yes. Just like that...”

      His arms contracted and his mouth opened, pressing her lips apart. His body was hardening as he held her. He hadn’t felt anything so powerful for a very long time. Her mouth was the sweetest honey he’d ever had.

      She felt the strength in his hard arms, the warmth of his muscular chest against her breasts. She moaned softly as sensations she’d never felt in her life lanced through her.

      He heard the soft moan and suddenly ground her breasts against him as the fever began to burn in him. That was when he felt her go stiff.

      He forced himself to lift his head. Her eyes were wide and shocked, and now there was fear in them. His eyes narrowed as he realized why. Her nipples were hard, like little stones pressing into his chest. Did she know why they were hard? he wondered. Because she acted like a woman with her first man.

      His chin lifted as he looked at her. He felt arrogant. “Have you ever had a man?” he asked in a deep, rough whisper.

      Her reaction shocked him. She made a sound like a sob deep in her throat and pushed at him, frantically. “Let me down. Let me down, please!”

      He put her on her feet. She looked up at him with anguish.

      The reaction set him off. He hadn’t meant to touch her. The way she was riding had frightened him, God knew why. He was only trying to keep her safe. But she backed away as if he’d done something unspeakable.

      His pale eyes narrowed. “Your love life is none of my business,” he said shortly. “But it’s a good act.”

      Her tongue felt thick. “Act?”

      His mouth pulled up into a cold, sarcastic smile. “The frightened virgin bit,” he explained. He slid his hands into his pockets, and hateful memories flooded his mind, of another brunette, coy and teasing and innocent. Except that she wasn’t innocent. She’d tormented him, shattered his life. It had started just like this.

      She wrapped her arms around her chest. She felt cold all over. Technically, she was still a virgin. But that was only due to a physical barrier that had stopped her stepfather long enough for Gabriel to break in the door.

      She closed her eyes, and a wave of pure nausea swept over her. She was back in that time, in that space, in her room, screaming for help that she never expected to come. Her mother had gone shopping. Gabriel was in school. Except that he’d left class early. Thank God he had!

      She shivered.

      Wolf, watching her, was torn by conflicting emotions. Part of him was ablaze with a monstrous desire to push her down in the grass and have her right there. Another, saner, part was certain that it was an act. A woman who traveled, was sophisticated and was of her age was afraid of kisses? She’d been putting on an act. In his car, after the opera, in the park and now here. Tempt him, pretend to be afraid to make him vulnerable. And then the knives would come out of hiding. Exactly as they had with Ysera.

      Ysera. His eyes closed on a silent groan. He’d loved her. What she’d done to him was beyond cruelty.

      Sara had turned away. She climbed back into the saddle. She didn’t look at Wolf Patterson.

      “I’ve been riding horses since I was three years old,” she said through her teeth. “When I was younger, I did rodeo. I know how to handle horses.”

      “And now I know that, don’t I?” he said. He smiled at her. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was demeaning, arrogant. “Just for the record, I don’t like brunettes. You might have noticed that the women I date are blonde.”

      She didn’t answer him.

      “The frightened virgin bit won’t work again,” he added. “You’ll have to think of something a little more original. I’m an old fox, honey. I know women.”

      She felt a chill run down her spine. She lifted her chin. “Whatever you may think, I’m not in the mood for a torrid love affair, Mr. Patterson,” she said haughtily. “Least of all with you.”

      He only smiled. “You’d be lucky,” he drawled.

      She fought the memory of how gentle he’d been, how very tender. She didn’t want to remember. Her hand tightened on the reins. Then, involuntarily, she remembered what Gabriel had told her about Wolf’s mother, and she winced inwardly. The woman had done untold damage. No doubt there was some other woman, as well, more recently, who’d added to his scars. He was the most mistrustful person she’d ever known. She didn’t trust people, either, but she couldn’t talk to him. He disliked her. But why had he kissed her? She couldn’t understand the way he went from hot to cold and back again with her.

      He was studying the horse closely.

      “Something on your mind?” she asked coolly.

      “Couldn’t get the broom cranked?”

      Her black eyes flashed like lightning. “If I had a broom, I’d hit you with it!”

      “And you know what I’d do when you did, don’t you?” His voice was deep and caressing. His eyes were sensuous, like that firm, chiseled mouth, smiling at her as if he knew everything she was feeling. She could see in her mind what he was thinking, see him take the broom away and jerk her into his arms, and bend his head...

      She swallowed, hard, and fought down a new and disturbing hunger.

      “I have to go home.” She turned the horse with easy skill.

      “Time to feed the flying monkeys?”

      She started to say something, bit her tongue instead and galloped away, red-faced.

      * * *

      GABRIEL DIDN’T LIKE parties as a rule, but there was always the one exception. Jacobsville had holiday events to benefit the local animal shelter. There was a dance at the civic center, and everybody attended. It was one of several throughout the year. This one was for spring.

      Sara went with her brother. Michelle was coming home soon, but she’d had a job interview in San Antonio, and she wanted to stay there over the weekend in Sara’s apartment. So it was just Sara and Gabriel at the dance.

      Sara let her hair fall naturally, thick and black and down to her waist in back. She wore an off-white ankle-length dress that complemented her soft, pale olive skin, while emphasizing her black eyes, her beauty. She wore only a string of pearls and stud earrings with it.

      She