Silver Falls by Anne Stuart Page A

closer, and kissed her.
    Her arms were free to fight him, and she punched him in the stomach, but he didn’t flinch, merely moved closer, one arm imprisoning her, trapping her hands between their bodies. “I’m just trying to prove my point,” he murmured, and kissed her again, his mouth hard on hers.
    She clamped her jaw together, freezing, since he had her in too strong a hold to shove him away. His hand cupped her neck, his fingers brushing against the side of her face, a calming, gentle touch that slowly began to leach the fury from her body. She could feel his heart beat through the layersof clothing that separated them, and her own heart beat a counterpoint to his. He lifted his head, looking down at her stubborn face. “Kiss me back and I’ll let you go,” he said softly.
    â€œFuck off.”
    He kissed her anyway, and she remained stonily still, as his other hand trailed up her back to the perfect, sensitive spot just beneath her shoulder blades, and she felt her treacherous body soften.
    Oh, the hell with it. She kissed him back. She opened her mouth, slid her arms around his waist, pulling him closer still, and kissed him, with all the hunger and need that had been locked in her body for months, years. She kissed him because she couldn’t have him, kissed him because he showed up too late, kissed him until she felt his cock swell against her belly and the fierce need became his own as well.
    And then she shoved him away, wiped her mouth with the sleeve of the flannel shirt, his flannel shirt, and said, “Ready to drive me home?”
    He looked shocked, which was a triumph in itself. “Where did that come from?”
    She wished she could come up with a snappy answer. From her inner Barbie, from her repressed romantic side, from her self-destructive nature. Instead she shrugged. “I just thought I’d give you a taste of what you’re missing.”
    He was still staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time, which he probably was. Up until now she was part of some game-playing agenda, and an unsavory one at that. She had no idea what he was trying to prove, but she wasn’t about to play.
    â€œYou can drive me home or I’ll take your car,” she said in her most practical voice. He’d have no idea that beneath her blasé exterior her heart was pounding, her palms were damp and she was more turned on than she had been in fourteen years. Not since Sophie’s father. Of course he had ditched her once he found out she was pregnant and she’d been on her own. She ought to know better.
    She crossed her arms, partly to hide the trembling, and arched an eyebrow. “Sooner rather than later would be good,” she said in an even tone.
    He moved then, and for a moment she thought he was going to touch her again. She wasn’t sure what she’d do if he did, but at the last minute he seemed to think better of it. “I’ll get my keys,” he said, his voice equally expressionless.
    They went down the outer steps in silence. The rain was coming down harder now, and the rough wood was slick enough that she held on to the rickety railing, being careful to avoid the weak step as she went. He moved past her, around the back of the foundation, and she followed him, onlyto come face-to-face with the most ramshackle, ancient Jeep she’d ever seen.
    â€œI thought you had a rental car that you didn’t want to get muddy,” she said, glaring at him.
    â€œI lied. The doors don’t work—you’ll have to climb in over the side.”
    Great, she thought. His baggy pants were too tight on her generous butt, and she’d probably split them as she scrambled into the car. Tossing her own clothes in back, she reached for the top of the door, ready to hoist herself in, when she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her, swinging her over into the front seat of the Jeep.
    It happened so fast she didn’t have