Wyoming Strong. Diana Palmer

eyes had an odd expression. “You’re perceptive.”

      She studied his face. “That means you aren’t telling me a thing, Mr. Patterson.”

      He searched her eyes and then averted his. She was so formal with him. Well, she was young and he wasn’t. Thirty-seven to her twentysomething. It made him feel cold inside, those years that stood between them. Even if he was tempted, and he was, she was far too young for a man with his jaded past. Not to mention he was friends with her brother. He couldn’t afford to get involved with her. She was mysterious in her way, and she’d tempted her stepfather away from her mother. She might pretend to be innocent, but was she? Ysera had tried that trick on him. He didn’t trust women. Lying seductresses, the lot of them.

      “You never stay down here on the ranch when Gabe’s out of town, do you?” he asked, for something to break the uncomfortable silence.

      “No,” she said. “I’m...nervous if I’m alone at night.”

      “You have an apartment in San Antonio, don’t you? You’re alone there.”

      “I have neighbors that I know,” she replied. “Out here, there’s just me.” She swallowed. “Gabriel has enemies. One of them targeted me, in the past. I was very lucky that he was home at the time.”

      He scowled. He hadn’t considered that Gabe’s line of work would put her in danger. But of course it would. He had enemies of his own. One had tried to kill him, although he wondered now if Ysera hadn’t sent the man after him. She’d sworn bloody vengeance when he turned her over to the authorities.

      His eyes went to the silky blue blouse she was wearing. It had fine pearl buttons all the way down the front. Under it, he could see the outline of her breasts, firm and tip-tilted. They made him ache.

      “Could you...not do that, please?” she asked, folding her arms across her blouse.

      He leaned back in his chair and just looked at her. There was a world of sensual wisdom in his pale eyes. “You seem like two people sometimes,” he remarked. “One brash and hot-tempered, the other nervous and vulnerable.”

      “We all have different sides to our personalities, I think. More coffee?” she asked, for something to say.

      He nodded. His eyes were calculating, but she didn’t notice until it was too late. As she reached for his cup, he reached for her, and pulled her gently down onto his lap.

      “Nothing heavy,” he promised, his voice deep and soft, like velvet. His big hand spread across her cheek, holding her face so that he could see her black velvet eyes. They were huge in her beautiful face, sad and apprehensive. “Your brother will be home any minute,” he reminded her.

      Yes. But she worried about what could happen in the meantime. She put her hand on his broad chest, and it encountered the thick hair where the shirt was open at his throat. She caught her breath and tried to jerk her hand back.

      He spread it into the opening, watching her face as he pressed her long, cold fingers into the thick hair. She shivered a little at the feel of him, so intimate. There was warm, hard muscle under the hair. His heart was beating heavily, like hers. She really should protest and get up.

      But just as she thought about it, his thumb brushed over her full lower lip and teased it away from the upper one. He felt her shiver.

      It was obvious that she hadn’t had a lover who knew what to do with her. He shouldn’t be touching her, of course. He was only going to make things worse.

      While he was considering that, his head was bending. He brushed his open mouth over hers, tenderly parting her lips. It was like that day in the pasture when he’d pulled her off the horse, terrified that she was going to kill herself. He hadn’t been able to get her shy response out of his mind. It haunted him.

      He reminded himself that innocence could be faked. Ysera had taught him that.

      His fingers stroked up and down her long throat, making her breath jerk, while his mouth gently explored her soft lips.

      He was damaged. So was she, in some sort of way. Perhaps the man she’d taken away from her mother had been rough with her. He scowled, remembering that she’d sent a man to prison for being intimate with her. It disturbed him.

      He lifted his head and looked into her wide, fascinated eyes. His own narrowed as the heat began to build in him. It had been a long time. Too long. He wanted her. He hated himself for it.

      His big hand slid down over her breast and cupped it, teasing the nipple with a forefinger until it went hard, and her body stiffened.

      That was when he lost it. His mouth crushed down over hers in a fever of hunger. She tasted like honey. Her body was warm and soft in his arms. He turned her, so that her breasts were crushed against his shirt. He groaned, on fire to have her.

      She wanted to protest. But the feel of his mouth on hers was drugging her. She clung to him, whimpering softly as she felt her body begin to swell. She’d never felt anything like this, never wanted so much to have a man’s mouth on hers, demanding and insistent. She wasn’t even afraid. That was a first.

      He stood up, with her in his arms, and his eyes were flashing like blue lightning. He couldn’t think past relief. He could put her down on the sofa in the next room, smooth his aching body on top of hers. He could jerk those tight jeans off and go into her, hard and fast, make her scream with pleasure.

      Except that it was broad daylight, and he could see Ysera’s face, mocking, laughing. He was a weakling, she taunted while he died in her arms, a weakling who couldn’t control his desire, who looked ridiculous when his face went rigid, when his body corded over hers as he drove for satisfaction...

      He shuddered.

      Sara saw nightmares in his pale eyes. She’d been uneasy when he picked her up, afraid of what he might intend. They were alone, and she wasn’t really sure when Gabriel might come home. She’d never tried to be intimate with anyone. There were reasons why she might not be able to at all, and one was very physical, a reason she was too shy to speak of, especially to a man like Wolf Patterson.