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“What are you talking about?”
Liam grabbed her again and backed her against the wall. “You’re a coward, Jessie. You’re so afraid of behaving like a real woman that you want me to do it all. What did you have in mind, huh? Am I supposed to turn into a villain? Maybe you’d like me to play at being some kind of Don Juan, a guy who can talk a woman into bed even if she keeps saying she doesn’t want to be there.” He let go of her. “Well, I won’t do it. You cast the wrong guy in the part.”
Her hand whirred through the air and cracked across his cheek. His head snapped back; he cursed and grabbed her wrist before she could hit him again…and then she was in his arms, her mouth pressed hungrily to his, her fingers knotting in his sweatshirt as his fingers tangled in her hair.
“Jessie.” He caught hold of her face and brushed her mouth with his. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It was my fault. I was afraid, Liam. Not of you,” she added quickly. “Never of you. I was afraid of the way you make me feel.”
The look on his face made her breath catch. He swept his hand down her back, lifting her into him, watching her eyes darken as he pressed against her.
“Tell me how I make you feel,” he said thickly.
“As if…” Her jacket fell to the floor and his hands, his hard, exciting hands, slid under her T-shirt and over her skin. When he cupped her breasts, her voice broke. “As if—Liam. Make love to me. Please, please, pl—”
Liam kissed her, swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
CHAPTER FIVE
WHAT HAD STARTED in the garden would end here. They’d known each other for little more than twenty-four hours. Still, as Liam drew Jessie to him, he felt as if he’d waited all his life to make love to her. He wanted to tell her that, but she reached her arms up to him and sighed his name, and words became meaningless.
All that mattered was touch. And taste. And scent.
He kissed her gently, moving his lips over hers, waiting for her mouth to soften and cling to his. When it did, he slipped his tongue between her lips, groaning with pleasure at the honeyed sweetness he found waiting for him. Her arms tightened around him, her body arched against his, and he rolled her beneath him, caught her bottom lip between his teeth and eased the small hurt with a kiss. Jessie moaned softly, and the need to take her pounded through his blood.
Slow down, he told himself, slow down. He’d been a gambler most of his life and understood that when you bet on the toss of the dice, you put your money on today. Only a fool would bet on tomorrow, or think that far ahead. Right now the wheel of fortune had spun and the little red ball with his number on it had dropped into the slot. That was all he’d count on but, if he was very lucky, he could make the moment last.
He tunneled his hands into her hair and swept it back from her face. He kissed her temples, her eyelids, her throat as she arched against him again. Lord, she was beautiful, especially now, as the wildness he’d sensed in her from the beginning burst free. Little sounds were breaking from her throat; the musk of arousal rose from her skin. Such silky skin. Such hot, golden skin.
“Liam,” she whispered, and kissed him, her mouth taking his mouth, her breath mingling with his breath. She slid her hands under his shirt, laid them against his chest. His body clenched like a fist. Slow down, he told himself again, slow down….
And then he stopped thinking.
He grasped the hem of her T-shirt and tried to pull it up, but the thin cotton tore apart in his hands, exposing her to him. She wore a sheer bra, the color of her skin. No lace, no silk, bows or ribbons, nothing but the lush roundness of her breasts and the tawny satin of her nipples.
The room swam out of focus. He bent to her, smoothed the tip of his finger over her breasts, kissed them, licked them. Jessie cried out, moaned his name as he kissed her and swallowed her cries.
He reached for the front clasp of her bra. Her hands, cold as ice, locked on his wrists.
“Wait,” she said shakily. “Liam, please wait.”
His body told him to ignore her plea. His mind, or maybe his heart, said something different. I’m afraid of what you make me feel, she’d said, and he’d reacted by ripping her clothes off.
He groaned, rolled over and threw his arm across his eyes. “Jessie,” he said when he could trust himself to talk. “Sweetheart…”
He reached out to her but she moved quickly, clutched the blanket around her and stood up, facing away from him. “I’m sorry,” she said stiffly. “I know you’re disappointed.”
Liam got to his feet. Gently he peeled the blanket from her hands and dropped it to the floor. “Jessie,” he said again, and drew her back against him. Her body was rigid against his; he knew she wanted him to let go. Instead, he put his arms around her waist. “I’m the one who’s sorry, Jessie. Can you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to—”
“There is.” He turned her in his arms, stroked her back, pressed kisses into her hair. “I came at you with all the finesse of a sex-starved water buffalo.”
She made a little sound, half sob, half laugh, against his shoulder. “How do you know how a sex-starved water buffalo would behave?”
Liam smiled. “It’s something about males, I guess. Show us a beautiful female, we lose our cool.” His voice roughened. “Especially if she touches some special place inside us.”
Jessie lifted her head, leaned back in his arms. “Have I?” she whispered. “Touched something special inside you? Because—because that’s how I feel about you, as if you’ve reached into me and—and…” She sighed and buried her face against him again. “And that’s crazy. We don’t even know each other.”
