By Request Collection 1. Jackie Braun

nodded. She felt small. Really small. She’d jumped in feet first without thinking, without seeking clarification.

      He went on, ‘But it doesn’t mean you keep him in the dark about it for much longer.’

      What about that kiss? Did he intend not keeping him in the dark about that too? Oh, she did so not want to think about him talking guy talk with Jared about that. She comforted herself with the knowledge that they were mates, she was Jared’s sister and Blake wasn’t likely to spill that piece of information to her brother. Still, guys were guys.

      And to think she’d been tempted to kiss him again. Only to make him feel better.

      And he’d wanted to kiss her, it had been as obvious as the horn on a rhinoceros. And then at the last second he’d suddenly remembered he’d phoned Jared? He’d have known she’d react to that. It was almost as if he’d been looking for a reason, any reason at all, not to give in to that sexual hum between them.

      She rubbed her arms to ward off a sudden chill. She should be relieved he’d put a stop to it. After all, she’d told him only hours ago that they were moving too fast.

      ‘Okay.’ She worked hard to keep her voice reasonable when what she wanted to do was yell why did he have to be so remote? As if he’d flicked a damn switch. ‘But I wish you’d told me before you rushed into it. I’d intended phoning him this evening.’

      ‘You still can.’ His disbelieving look negated the barely there nod, making her feel like a kid again, and then he was walking away, cutting their conversation short with, ‘It’s late. Where’s your gear?’

      They didn’t speak as they piled everything into his rented SUV. On the short drive home she pressed her lips together tight to stop the words she wanted to say spilling out: Frustratingly Infuriatingly Complicated Gorgeous Man.

      When he pulled into the kerb outside the house, she glared straight ahead. ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ she murmured. ‘I think I hate you after all.’

      ‘I’ll try to take it in my stride.’

      They unloaded the car, both avoiding the other. When it was done, he muttered something about checking his emails and she saw him heading to a room off the living area that looked like a study. Or a cave. And he was damn well going to shut himself in there.

      ‘Hang on.’

      When he didn’t stop, she caught up, planted herself in front of him, then waited until he looked down and at least acknowledged her. ‘If you don’t want to kiss me, you don’t need to fake some spur-of-the-moment excuse to push me away. I’m a big girl these days, I can cope.’

      He stood unmoving for a few unsteady heartbeats. ‘Be very careful what you say to me right now, Lissa.’ His husky warning sounded more like a promise than a threat.

      But his non-committal expression just plain got to her. Did he have to be so … lone wolf? It made her want to push and prod until she got a reaction. Any reaction. She wanted to understand the demons she saw in his eyes in an unguarded moment. She wanted to understand why.

      She pushed harder. ‘I can handle rejection, I can handle disappointments. I can handle y …’ She trailed off at his unforgiving stare, realising she’d let her mouth run roughshod over her thoughts, and took a step back, away from the intensity battering her.

      His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched and something deeper than indigo flickered hotly in the depths of his eyes. He stepped forward, crowding in on her. Now she saw gold flecks among the blue in his gaze. Alive, like a flame. Raw and hot and primitive. For a brief moment he looked like a stranger—or that dangerous lone wolf—and instinctively she took another step back.

      ‘You think you can handle me?’ His hands shot out and his fingers curled around her upper arms, his thighs bumping hers as he walked her backwards with him until her spine came up against the wall. His unrelenting gaze didn’t waver from hers.

      He dragged her against him and kissed her. Hard. No time to react as his body flexed against hers, unyielding and unforgiving while his hands fisted tightly in her hair.

      Then, before she knew it, he lifted his head to mutter against her shocked lips, ‘You’re not ready for what I’d like to do to you.’

      The images his harsh words invoked sent a thrill pulsing through her. It throbbed low and heavy between her legs.

      He untangled his hands from her hair and backed off. Without the support of his body, she slumped against the wall, dazed and dizzy and not a little delirious.

      She knew her eyes were too wide, her breath too choppy, her limbs too trembly. She’d blown it, she could tell, and she saw a muscle twitch in his left jaw, felt him grow distant as he watched her through half-lidded eyes.

      ‘And what would that be, that you’d like to do that I’m not ready for?’

      His Adam’s apple bobbed, his hands fisted at his sides and she swore the air vibrated with shared images. Blake pushing her back against the wall, tearing away her clothes with impatient fingers until she stood naked and trembling with need. Using his hands and mouth and tongue to bring pleasure to every square centimetre of quivering flesh, then ploughing into her where she stood.

      Dull colour sprinted high along his cheekbones as if he’d been having the same thought. ‘That’d be a mistake.’

      She licked lips gone dry. ‘How do you know it would?’

      He shook his head but she could see she’d put a dent in that composure. ‘I suggest you go upstairs and get some sleep.’ Turning on his heel, he walked away.

      ‘The night is young,’ she called to his retreating back with a brightness she didn’t feel. She watched him walk to his cave, his shoulders tense, his strides long and swift. ‘I think I’ll go to that party after all.’ She said it loud enough for him to hear as he reached the door. He hesitated before closing it behind him with a firm click.

      She sighed, a weird cocktail of frustration and satisfaction simmering through her. She’d had no intention of going anywhere but he didn’t need to know that.

      Forget the way he’d stalked off, she’d got to him. Rattled his cage. Woken the primitive man beneath the civilised exterior. A quiver of excitement jagged down her spine. Was she really ready for that?

      But she wasn’t the only one with something to fear, something to hide. And what would stop a man like Blake from acting on their obvious attraction?

      His own code of honour. His integrity. She’d seen it in action. More than once. Her fingers tightened into fists. Damn the gossip-mongers. He didn’t deserve to be talked about that way.

      But the man clearly didn’t do emotion. Never had. And she’d never understood how he and Jared had got along so well. Back then she’d been too young to question it, but not too young to imagine herself offering him solace any way she knew how.

      There was pain too, recent and raw in his shadowed eyes. And he was alone here with no support base. She couldn’t begin to understand how someone dealt with that. He could try and block her out but she was going to reach him eventually. No one should be an island.

      Someone was playing the harmonica. Blake pressed the heels of his palms to his eyeballs as the familiar childhood sound drifted over the pool’s still blue water and through the open window.

      Tipped back as far as the recliner would go, he lay in the study’s darkness while a bevy of hammers battered away at the back of his skull. Darth Vader and Luke were fighting their alltime classic laser battle inside his eyeballs. The nausea was still at the high-tide mark.

      Had Lissa gone partying? Probably, after that scene against the wall. He’d had to get rid of her—it was that or lose his pride. Throwing up at a woman’s feet was never going to be a good look.

      The tune switched to a country and western ballad he remembered playing as a kid. It had been an old distraction.