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“Not when it’s something I don’t want to hear.” She felt the spray of the waterfall, cool against her neck, and heard the roar of the water tumbling fifty feet to the rocky bottom of the canyon. She stood toe-to-toe with him, refusing to back down, silently challenging him with her eyes.
“You have no idea what you’re asking,” he said hoarsely.
“Tell me.”
He stared at her long and hard, his eyes narrowing in the lowering sunlight, his breath fogging in the cool mountain air. “You never give up,” he said and his voice sounded tortured, as if he was battling with himself and losing the war. Reluctantly he pushed an errant black curl from her face.
“No reason to.”
“There are lots of reasons, Adria.”
“None that I want to hear.” She held her head high, angling her chin, daring him to argue, feeling the breeze tangle in her hair.
His gaze fastened to hers and held, causing her heart to trip in anticipation. Raw, unbridled passion glowed dark in his eyes as he looked down at her. Adria’s chest was suddenly tight, as if bound by steel cords, and she wondered fleetingly if he was right, if chasing him into the forest was so clever after all. She wanted him, yes, probably loved him, but being with him was treacherous and deadly, for she never seemed to get enough.
As if reading her thoughts, he struck, quickly wrapping his strong fingers around the back of her neck and pulling her roughly to him, kissing her until she couldn’t catch her breath. His free arm circled her waist, dragging her willing body closer still, so that she could feel the thunderous beat of his heart, the thick evidence of his desire straining at his fly. He smelled of leather and sweat and tasted of coffee laced with liquor. A slow-burning heat from deep inside her spread throughout her body.
His hands splayed across her back, possessively, angrily crushing her breasts against the hard wall of his chest.
Winding her arms around his neck, she gave herself to him, refusing to listen to any lingering doubts in her mind. She opened her mouth to him as she would willingly open her body.
She clung to him as he dragged her to the ground, pulling her with him, dropping to the bed of dry grass and leaves scattered over the forest floor. He spread kisses along her neck and over her eyes and twisted her hair in his fists. “You’re sure?” he asked, his voice breathless and dry as the wind racing through the trees.
“I want this, Zach,” she said, staring deep into his eyes. “I want you.”
He hesitated but she pressed her lips to his and all his defenses tumbled down. She knew why he was reticent—he still believed they were half-brother and-sister, but she was certain there was a mistake. Surely they couldn’t be related. She wouldn’t believe it; she wouldn’t fall in love with her own half-brother. Most people thought he’d been fathered by Anthony Polidori and he looked so much more like the Italian than Witt. This was right! So right! He nuzzled her neck and she lolled her head back, offering him more.
His fingers found the buttons to her blouse and the clasp of her bra and soon she was stripped to the waist, her breasts bare, her dark nipples puckering in the cool air, her body heated by the inner fire that swept through her blood.
His hands were rough but magical as he reached around her and traced the valley of her spine. Pleasure rippled through her body and she held onto his shoulders as if for life.
Love me, Zachary, she silently cried.
His fingers dipped beneath the waistband of her jeans, stripping her of the unwanted denim and leaving her in a scant pair of panties. She moaned as he took her breast between his lips and her own hands moved to the front of his shirt, tearing at the buttons, feeling the springy, dark hair of his chest as her fingers grazed the strident muscles of his shoulders, the flat buttons of his nipples.
He moaned loudly—a primeval sound that made her quiver.
“Adria,” he whispered hoarsely as he gazed down at her.
She held a finger to his lips. “Don’t,” she whispered and a coil of warmth whirled in her midsection when he drew her finger between his teeth and sucked. Wet. Hungry. Hot.
Heat coiled at her center, pulsing and liquid, as he continued to stare at her.
Her throat was tight and the moist darkness between her legs began to throb with desire. She wanted him, all of him, regardless of the consequences. Gaze fastened to hers, he slipped his hands lower, along the rift of her buttocks until she was squirming, her body silently pleading for more.
“You’re sure?” he asked and his pupils had nearly obscured the gray of his eyes. Above him, clouds scudded across the sky.
“Yes!”
“This could be wrong.” Doubts shadowed his eyes and his fingers dug deeper into her flesh.
“Never,” she whispered, guiding his head back to hers until his breath fanned her face. “Love me, Zach,” she whispered, casting caution to the wind and closing her ears to the demons that screamed in her mind. “Love me and forget about everything else.”
His throat worked and then the wind seemed to shift. Kissing her, he ran his fingers along her body, and beneath the silk of her panties. Lowering his head, he nibbled at her skin and lowered himself. His tongue slid around the circle of her navel and she bucked upward, wanting more, wanting him—all of him.
He slid lower still and she thought she would die when he stripped her of her panties and breathed hot and damp against the curls at the apex of her legs. Squirming, writhing, she felt him touch her, slowly at first and then more quickly, causing her to melt inside.
“Zachary,” she whispered hoarsely.
