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None of that reasoning drove him now. Anger drove him, a fury so hot and deep and dark that he didn't give a damn that she was struggling frantically to free herself of his embrace or that she was trying to twist her mouth away from his. She owed him this, owed him for the years of hating her and wanting her and asking himself when he was ever going to purge her from his system.
"Stop," she begged, and he laughed, thrust a hand into her hair, tilted her head back and kissed her again and again, his mouth hard, his hands rough... and then she made a sound that cut through it all, a whisper of fear and despair, and it pierced what little remained of his heart.
"Faith," he whispered, and his kiss softened, became a plea. His mouth moved gently over hers. He said her name again, put both hands in her hair, and she sighed and opened her mouth to his.
A thousand memories swept through him. The warm, silken softness of her skin under his caressing hands. The honeyed sweetness of her mouth, the flower-and-rain scent of her hair. The feel of her against him, her breasts thrusting against his chest, her hips tilted up just enough so he could press his aroused flesh into the vee of her thighs when he swept one hand down her back, cupped her bottom, lifted her to him.
She was the woman he had never forgotten, a dizzying blend of sensuality and innocence. Having her in his arms again, feeling her surrender, sent all his blood to his loins.
He groaned and buried his face at the tender juncture of neck and shoulder. He'd always loved the smell and taste of her there. All he'd ever had to do was kiss that spot, catch the skin lightly between his teeth and she'd moan, her head would fall back and his name would whisper from her lips...
As it did now. Her hands had been pressed against his chest. Now, they curled into his shirt. He felt her shudder and he knew she was trying to deny what she felt but it was too late. He slid his hands inside her robe and cupped her breasts. God, the feel of her. The heat. He moved his thumbs over her nipples and she cried out his name.
"Cole. Cole, please..."
The words took him back in time, made him hard as stone-hard made him remember what a talented Jezebel she was.
He let go of her. Faith staggered back, opened her eyes and stared at him. If he hadn't known better, he'd have thought the horror on her face was real.
"God," he said hoarsely. He swung away from her and gulped deep lungfuls of air. He felt sick to his stomach. It disgusted him, to think she could still affect him like this.
"You-you bastard!"
The blow to his back caught him by surprise. She struck him again and he turned, grabbed for her hands and pinned them against his chest but not before her fingernail raked his lip. Her eyes were bright with tears, her mouth trembled. She tried to jerk free of his grasp and bring up her knee, but he pushed her away and she fell backward onto the bed and looked up at him as if he were a monster.
"Get out of my house!"
Such righteous indignation. If he'd been a spectator instead of a participant in this pathetic excuse for a morality play, he'd have been tempted to believe she was the innocent virgin wronged by the evil villain. Cole took out his handkerchief, gingerly put it to his lip. The white linen came away faintly smeared with blood.
"Are you deaf?" Faith scooted across the bed and got to her feet. "Get out!"
"You're repeating yourself," he said coldly.
"And you're still here!"
"Maybe you had difficulty understanding what Sam Jergen said, Faith." He stuffed the handkerchief into his pocket. She was good, no doubt about it. She didn't only look wronged, she looked terrified. "This house is mine. Think about it, baby. You can't throw a man off his own property."
"The house is mine." She held the robe closer, lifted her chin, looked him in the eye. "I live here. I have lived her for the past nine years."
"And? You think that gives you squatter's rights?" Cole folded his arms over his chest. "My brother wrote a will. He left this place to me. End of story."
"Your brother was my husband. He said he'd leave me money only there wasn't any money to leave. I live here. You don't. Possession is nine-tenths of the law. That's the end of the story!"
"Is that what your lover told you?"
Color striped her face. "I don't need anyone to tell me right from wrong."
"Wednesday," Cole said coolly. "Nine a.m. You're either gone or-"
"Or what? You'll get the sheriff to evict me?" She flashed him a chilly smile and took the telephone from the nightstand. "How about I get him to evict you?"
"Nobody can evict me. I just told you, this house is-"
"Yours. And maybe it will be, when I'm good and ready to leave. Until then, I'm the one living here. That makes you an intruder." Her eyebrows lifted. "Last chance, Cole. Are you leaving on your own, or do you want to wait for the sheriff? I'm sure he'll be happy to do his civic duty and arrest you for trespass or breaking and entering. Whatever it's called."
