reaching up to get the objects he wanted, he was right behind her, his body so close, so warm, that it was all she could do to resist the fatal impulse to step back into his arms. The rest of the morning and the afternoon he pestered her in the same way.
Later that night, after dinner and the dishes, he went up to bathe, and she thought she was safe. But while she was cleaning the pantry, he called down to her from his bedroom.
At first she ignored him, but he wouldn't stop calling to her. Surely he was the most stubborn man on earth.
When she trudged up the stairs at last, she found him standing in the middle of his bedroom trying to look hurt and helpless. He said his shoulders were so sore from the wreck that it hurt him to lift his arms and button his shirt. It took only a second for her senses to register his physically disturbing state. His unbuttoned blue shirt contrasted with the dark bronze of his damp skin. He smelled clean and male. She caught the sensual scent of his aftershave. His black hair was jet dark, wet and curly.
They were alone. This was their last night together. Her last chance. She should run back downstairs at once.
But she could only stare at him, thinking he was as darkly beautiful as a muscled pagan god. She could only feel dizzy and weak with a sickening longing to touch him and caress him.
His blue gaze was electric. 'Come here, Norie,' he commanded gently.
She began to tremble, but she lacked the strength to move either toward him or away from him. It was he who closed the gap between them with two swift silent strides.
His shirt swung open further. He stood so close she could feel the heat from his body, see the wetness that glistened on his bare chest.
He had asked her to button his shirt. In that moment it was as if she had no mind of her own. Very slowly she reached toward him, intending to bring the edges of his shirt together. Instead her fingertips slid beneath the soft blue fabric to touch the hard curves of his muscular chest and torso. She felt bone and muscle. His skin was like warm, polished bronze. Her slim fingers tangled in the hair on his chest and then splayed in wonder over the place where his heart pounded with excitement.
He sucked his breath in sharply as her soft hands moved on, wandering in sensuous exploration, lovingly pushing his shirt aside, over his shoulders, then more urgently wrenching it off, and tossing it to the floor. Gently, her lips followed the path of her hands, kissing him first in the spot that concealed his violently thudding heart, then following every curve of his hard muscles.
She would have stopped touching him and kissing him, if only she could. But she was hot, as hot as he was. At last she lifted her head helplessly, and found that his blazing eyes were upon her radiant face. His gaze studied every inch of her face with such tenderness that she almost stopped breathing. Very slowly he leaned down and kissed the black shining curls at her temples. Then her cheek. Then her throat. She felt his breath falling warmly against her skin like heated velvet whispers. Only the tumultuous drumming of his heartbeat betrayed his restraint.
'Don't fight it,' he whispered. 'You can't.' He balled his hands into fists. 'I know, because I can't, either.' His voice was a ragged, hoarse sound.
Very gently he drew her into his arms and toward the bed. And she let him.
He was right. She couldn't fight him. She was weak. She wanted him too much.
His hand curved along her slender throat. His finger wound a strand of silken black hair into a sausage curl and released it, letting it bounce against her satin throat.
'Open your lips,' he instructed huskily.
He brushed a soft, sweet kiss across her mouth, and then he, too, was lost. All of his careful control was disintegrating. He was shaking against her. His breath drew in sharply, loudly, fiercely. He kissed her again, harder and hotter than before. He held her so tightly she felt that her own body was fused into his. His mouth moved against hers, his tongue moist and urgent as it slid between her parted lips to taste the warm, sweet wetness within. She let her tongue touch his.
Node's knees became weak, but it didn't matter because he was lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the bed.
Her lashes fluttered lazily, hopelessly shut as he stirred her with his lips and hands to erotic, feverish, passionate ecstasy.
Outside, the flat Texas landscape was bleak and barren and frozen. The wind was howling wildly. It was going to be another stormy night.
Inside, the two lovers were lost to the world and conscious only of each other. For them, there was only the wonder of their passionate extravagant present. For Noreen, only the wonder of having Grant at last.
He was still forbidden.
He was still a Hale, no matter how he denied it.
Tomorrow she would probably be sorry.
But tonight, as she lay enfolded in his crushing embrace beneath crisp cotton sheets, he was hers. Recklessly, gloriously, completely hers.
She abandoned herself heedlessly to the night, to the mounting passion of her lover, to her own wildness that had lain dormant until now. At last, she discovered the ecstasy that she had read about in books and always wanted but never known, not even during the brief unhappy years of her marriage.
After it was over-their fierce, molten mating-he buried his lips in her silken hair and breathed in the sweet, clean smell. She ran her hands over his magnificent body that glistened with sweat, and she reveled in the beautiful strength of his hard, muscular physique.
Tears of joy flooded her eyes.
She felt vulnerable, soft.
Gently he brushed her wet cheek. 'Forgive me,' he murmured quietly.
'For what?'
'For all the wasted years.' He clasped her tightly. 'For that first night in Austin, all those years ago. For your wedding day when I insulted you with the kind of kiss no brother-in-law should ever give a bride.'
'Don't,' she whispered shudderingly. She put a fingertip to his lips.
'I was wrong, Norie. So wrong. I thought… I thought I was protecting Larry.'
'I know.'
'I always loved you, but I couldn't admit I was wild with jealousy when you married Larry. I couldn't admit that you might love him. I treated you badly. I stood by and watched Larry pit you against Mother. He always loved to be fought over.' Grant ran a light finger down her belly. 'No more. At last you are mine.'
Noreen let him stroke her hair, let him kiss her again. She even let him remove the wedding ring she'd continued to wear for Darius's sake. Yes, tonight she belonged to Grant. Tonight was their dream. Tomorrow would be soon enough to awaken to reality.
His black head lowered and his parted lips moved over hers tenderly, nibbling for a time, forcing her mouth open again, slowly, teasingly, while his hands traced over her body and then pulled her closer. She could feel his heat beginning to flame all over again.
'I thought you were hurt.'
He laughed softly. 'I have miraculous recuperative powers.'
Noreen's hand slid down his hair-roughened chest, stroking his flat muscled stomach, hesitating, then moving lower. She touched that hot, warm part of him that told her just how fully aroused he was.
'Indeed you do,' she whispered on a wanton giggle.
'And you're one sexy… librarian.'
'Oh, Grant,' she breathed against his lips and threw her arms about him. 'I thought things like this only happened in books.'
'So you like this better than reading?'
'Much… much better.'
He chuckled huskily.
And that was the last thing either of them said for a very long time.
When Grant awoke the next morning, he was alone. Outside, everything was covered with a layer of frost and
