LITMIR.BIZ

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ready to fight, but there was no enemy to face. He needed to move. To fight. To do something, to expel the ghosts gathered around him, shrieking for his attention.

      “Damn it, Jack,” Rita said, tugging at his forearm until he turned to face her again. Her whiskey eyes were hot, burning with passion and fury and he wasn’t sure which had top billing.

      “I’m not deaf or blind,” she said. “I heard you shouting. I stepped into your room in time to see you bolt up in bed as if the hounds of hell were after you.”

      She’d hit that one on the head. Scraping one hand over his face, he muttered, “They were.”

      “Then tell me.” She held on to him, the heat of her touch sliding into his arm, moving through his bloodstream. “Let me in, damn it. What does it cost you to open the door just a crack?”

      He speared her with a hard look. There was no pity, no fear in her eyes. Only concern and curiosity and maybe that was worse in some ways.

      “You think it’s me I’m worried about?” He grabbed her shoulders, giving her a little shake for emphasis. “It’s you I’m thinking about here. I’m trying to save you, don’t you get it?”

      “Save me? From what?”

      “God, you won’t let this go,” he muttered thickly.

      “Not a chance.”

      He stared into her eyes. “Fine. I’m trying to save you from me. Okay? I don’t even trust myself around you right now.”

      “That’s ridiculous.”

      There was a response he hadn’t expected.

      “You’re not trying to injure me in some way, Jack,” she pointed out, her voice a little louder, her eyes a little more fiery. “You’ve done your best to simply avoid me at all costs.”

      “There’s a reason—”

      “Did I ask you to save me?” she interrupted, breaking free of his grip. The cold ocean air lifted her hair into a cloud of dark curls around her head and with the flash in her eyes, she looked like a pagan goddess. Even the nightgown she wore that was hot-pink with the image of a cupcake on it and the words SWEET THING scrawled across the top couldn’t diminish her. No, not a goddess, he corrected. Instead, she looked like a short, Italian Valkyrie. She was furious and her eyes were shot with sparks.

      She poked her index finger into the center of his chest. “I’m a big girl. I save myself when I need it. I don’t need a knight in shining armor, Jack.” She shoved her hair out of her eyes impatiently. “What I need is for my husband to tell me what’s tearing at him.”

      “You would have made a great warrior, Rita,” he said softly, gaze raking her up and down, from her bare toes with their purple-polished nails up to the eyes that were so incensed he was surprised she wasn’t actually shooting flames from them. “You are a Fury, aren’t you? Not afraid of anything.”

      “Not afraid of you, anyway,” she said, whipping her head back to shake her hair free of her eyes.

      How the hell was a man supposed to win an argument with a woman like this? How was he supposed to ignore her, ignore what she made him feel?

      “Maybe you should be,” he said, pulling her in close with one quick move. “And if I were a better man, I’d tell you to leave. Now. But I’m not—so if you want to run, now’s your chance.”

      She reached up, cupped his face in her palms and demanded, “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

      “No. Thank God.” He bent his head, and took her mouth in a kiss that was filled with the hunger and desperation he’d felt since she reentered his life.

      With the dregs of the nightmare still clinging to him, Jack held her tighter, his hands running up and down her back and down to her bottom. He pulled her against his rock-hard body and she wriggled closer in appreciation. Expectation. His blood ran hot and fast, his heartbeat raced and his mind was fogged by the want choking him. Need was alive and shouting inside him.

      The cold ocean wind wrapped itself around them, but he didn’t feel it. Nothing could vanquish the internal heat. One hand cupped the back of her head and held her still so he could completely claim her mouth. His tongue tangled with hers and her eager response fed the flames licking at his soul.

      There was no time for romance, seduction. He needed to be with her. In her. Over her. Tearing his mouth from hers, he looked down into her now-glassy eyes and fought to breathe.

      “What’re you doing?” she managed to ask breathlessly. “Why are you stopping?”

      “Not stopping. Changing location.” He bent down, scooped her up and carried her back through the French doors and into his bedroom. Moonlight followed them, the wind rushed in behind them and none of that mattered. He laid her down on the mattress and, in one deft move, stripped her nightgown off, leaving her naked—just as he wanted her. She scooted back farther on the mattress and reached for him. Jack didn’t keep her waiting. He yanked off the sleep pants he was wearing and joined her on the bed an instant later. His hands moved over her, exploring every curve. Every line.

      He remembered this so well. Had tormented himself over the last few months, by recalling the feel of her skin, the lush fullness of her breasts and the taut, dark nipples that he loved to suckle.

      And now, because of the baby, she was so much more than she had been. She was ripe, delectable and more alluring than ever. Even as he thought it, though, both of her hands went to the mound of her belly as if to hide it from him. He drew her hands away and said, “Don’t. You’re beautiful.”

      She laughed. “I’m huge.”

      He shook his head. “No. Curvy. Delicious. Amazing.”

      She sighed a little. “Wow. When you try, you really know the right things to say.”

      He grinned, bent his head and indulged himself in what he’d wanted to do for weeks now. He took one nipple into his mouth and savored the taste of her. Her scent invaded him, the soft sighs and moans sliding from her throat enflamed him. He ran his tongue and teeth across the tip of her nipple and then suckled, drawing her very essence into himself.

      She planted her feet on the mattress and lifted her hips. “Touch me, Jack. Touch me.”

      He did. Sweeping one hand down the length of her body, he cupped her center and used his thumb to brush across her most sensitive spot. She jerked beneath him and he smiled against her breast, relishing her reaction. He suckled harder, and then lifted his head to switch to her other breast and she went crazy in his arms. As if the need that had been building between them for weeks had finally reached a breaking point for both of them, she rocked her hips into his hand.

      He pushed two fingers into her heat and groaned himself at the slick, tight feel of her. It had been too long. His body was ready to explode and so was hers. He couldn’t wait another minute to be inside her, to feel her body surrounding his.

      Lifting his head, he looked down at her then kissed her briefly. “At least we don’t need a condom now.”

      “Points for us,” she said, swallowing hard, breath coming in short, hard gasps. “Damn it, Jack, don’t drag this out. I need you inside me.”

      “Just what I need, too,” he said, and shifted position to kneel between her thighs. He spread her legs wide and looked down at her. She was wanton, wild and everything he’d ever wanted in a woman. And for this one moment at least, she was his again—as she was always meant to be.

      His mind whispered that this was temporary. That this marriage wasn’t real and he was nobody’s idea of husband material anyway. But he shut that nagging voice down and surrendered to the mating call trumpeting through his body.

      He ran his hands over her hot, slick center, watching her twist and writhe in her own desperate need.

      Her response pushed his own desires beyond what

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