Blaze by Susan Johnson Page B

one. It was the reason she was sent up here. He would be falling into their unsubtle ploy with scarcely a struggle. He should say no and send her away.
     
    For five full seconds all the reasons for refusing to respond to the provocative touch and coaxing words made sense, and then her hand slid down his spine, and his whole mechanism for feeling, thought, deed lay shuddering, hostage to that small hand. He became perfectly still, shaken by the agony of his mind until the devastating ache in his loins, disregarding every scruple, forced his reaction. Turning sharply, he looked up at her. Then, rising suddenly, he took two steps, forcing her back against the wall. One hand came up and planted itself beside her left shoulder. Lazily, his other hand rose, grazing her breast in its upward passage before it came to rest solidly by her right ear. He leaned close, the heat from his body bathing her heightened senses, and in a low, deliberate tone said, "You know what I'm going to do if you stay."
     
    Her eyes were large and darkening, the unalloyed longing there to see. Even for all its severity, like a man suddenly annoyed, Hazard's voice had a heated, thrilling effect on her—like getting too near the flame. Fascinated, lured, against all her best judgment, she didn't move.
     
    Then, abruptly, his face tightened. "Dammit… dammit to hell. Go. It won't work," he tersely declared. "Tell them it won't work," he harshly added one last time and his hands dropped. But despite the words, his need smothered her.
     
    "I don't want to go," she said very simply, the offer in her eyes unmistakable.
     
    Damn, he thought and touched her shoulders delicately with only his fingertips, a tentative touch as reluctant as his ambiguous feelings. "You don't want to go. I don't want you to go," he pronounced like a schoolmaster explaining an unpleasant assignment. "I suppose everyone in camp knows you're here. You're half naked already," he went on with the illusion of calmness. "We might as well," a shade of exasperation drifted into the rich voice, "get down to business." And the hands closing on Blaze's shoulders were like steel clamps, and this time the kiss was hard, brutal, possessive.
     
    Hazard's urgent hands ran down the silky contours of her back, cupped her bottom, and hauled her fiercely close. There was no subtlety now. He had given her every chance to leave; he felt no compunction any longer. Twenty days' hunger, the arousal and frustration of the past half-hour crested like a rolling storm over the Rockies, while, astonishingly, the luscious woman reveled in the urgency and swiftly moving passion driving him. She answered his needs with melting flesh and soft cries of longing. If she was acting, he brutally thought moments later, carrying her over to the campaign bed in the corner, she should get an extra bonus for startling realism. Carefully placing her on her feet, he settled on the bed in a sprawl, his eyes never leaving the spectacular woman standing before him, and in a cool voice said, "All right. Undress. I haven't had dessert yet; it might as well be you."
     
    Blaze, eyes downcast, blushed, inner conflict battling overwhelming desire.
     
    Hazard's black eyes slid over her, observing the blush and hesitation with nerveless cynicism. "No need for coyness," he drawled. "But take your time. We've all afternoon." She was certainly aware of what was expected of her, of the reason she'd been sent up here, but if she chose to extend the amusement, he was amenable.
     
    "By the way," Hazard murmured in silken accents, "your nipples are the most sensual I've ever seen."
     
    It was as if his deep velvet voice had reached out to touch them and Blaze felt a fresh surge of desire coil deep inside her.
     
    He saw the perceptible rise in the rosy peaks. "Don't make me wait too long," he said very low. "I'd like to touch you… everywhere."
     
    Blaze stirred at the heated words, at the answering heat pulsing through her body. "I don't