Somehow he’d let himself get caught in a vicious circle of wanting, and then denying. Wanting, then denying.

And yet, even as he was telling himself there was right and wrong, black and white; as the echo of her taunt rang out in the log cabin; as the rain poured down outside the windows and the fire leapt to life in the stone fireplace, everything that had ever made sense to Grayson could go straight to hell for all he cared.

He was within reaching distance a moment later, had his hands on her and her nearly naked body pulled tightly against his in the span of another.

And in the end, all that was left was his primal need to have Lori...the need to make her his.

His mouth came down on hers just as hers lifted to his and that first taste of her was sweet, so much sweeter than anything he’d ever known, that he had to plunge deeper, had to take more from her than a first kiss should have allowed.

Grayson was in the prime of his life, strong from the intensely physical work he did every day on his land. But being this close to Lori, having her wet hair in his hands, her lips, her tongue against his, was making his heart pound so hard that he wondered if he was anywhere near strong enough to live through it.

He couldn’t get enough of her mouth, couldn’t seem to learn the contours, the flavors, of her fast enough. With his tongue, his lips, he traced hers again and again, loving the way she gasped with pleasure when he teased the corners where her lips met, when he sucked her tongue into his mouth, and especially when he scored her full lower lip with the edges of his teeth. And then, she was doing the same to him, kissing him in a way no woman had ever kissed him before, with such passion and desire and focus that he didn’t have a prayer of continuing to lead their wild dance.

No, all he could do was partner her in movements that should have been familiar, but felt fresh and new and oh-so-sweet.

She’d tasted his neck on the horse with the tip of her tongue, but now he was the one bending her back so that she arched into his arms and he could run kisses from her gorgeous mouth down to her chin and over the edge to the underside of her jaw. She shivered in his arms and her nipples pressed hard through the white silk of her bra against his chest as he ran his tongue all the way down the line of her neck, until it dipped into the hollow of her collarbone.

His name fell from her lips as he let his mouth roam over the swell of her breasts above the silk and lace.

This was so much more than he’d ever thought to have of her, and it should have been enough. But, damn it, it wasn’t. Not even close. Not even when he sucked one taut peak between his lips and laved her nipple through the silk. And when he reached back to undo her bra and finally bared her breasts to his hands and mouth and gaze, that wasn’t enough, either.

Still holding her arched back against him with one hand, with the other he cupped her and brought her to his mouth again and again, first one breast and then the other. Sweet Lord, he couldn’t remember ever touching such softness or witnessing such beauty. Lori was so responsive, a woman made for loving.

The shaky grasp he had on his sanity stretched thin, then broke entirely as he reached down for her panties and pulled the last of the silk from her body.

* * *

Being in his arms, being touched by Grayson was nothing like any lovemaking she’d ever experienced before. Yes, Lori knew how to make sure she came while in bed with a man, whether he was focused on her pleasure or not, but with Grayson she knew she wouldn’t need to do one damn thing to make sure she was satisfied.

He was still wearing his wet flannel shirt and thick jeans, and the contrast of the rough fabric against her bare skin as she writhed against him only inflamed her more. But then he was putting his hands on her waist and holding her back from his body. She didn’t know why, couldn’t get her brain to process a single reason he might not want to keep touching her, until she felt the heat of his gaze all across the surface of her skin and suddenly understood.

No one had ever looked at her like this, as though she was a gift he’d never expected to find waiting for him...and he couldn’t think of one thing he’d done to deserve it.

Needing to touch him, she tried to move back into his arms, but he held her where she was.

“I’m not done looking yet,” he growled.

Even in lovemaking he was bossy, and that realization should have made her pull away, should have reminded her that they were no good together. Instead, it made her want him with a fierceness that stunned her.

For Lori, life had always been a journey of jumping from one high peak to another, with the occasional dip into a shallow valley. At least, until everything had come to a head after Victor had chipped away at her piece by piece over the past year and a half. She’d gotten lost in a hole so dark and deep she hadn’t been able to see a way out.

And yet, despite her experience with such extremes, she’d never felt such a powerful craving for anyone, or anything, in her life. Doubts, concerns, worries—none of them had a chance against this craving, against the hunger that was eating her up from moment to moment.

Oh yes, she loved the way Grayson looked at her, but she needed to have his hands, his mouth, on her, too. And thank God, a few moments later, he was moving his hands up from her waist to cup her breasts with such reverence that the gentle heat of his touch stole what was left of her breath away.

“I can’t believe you’re here. That you’re real. That you’re really this beautiful.”

His murmured words had her heart beating even faster against his thumbs. Lori knew she was pretty, and wasn’t at all ashamed to have used her looks to her advantage for most of her life—not when it was natural that a dancer should emphasize her best features, along with her most fluid lines, for the audience. But with Grayson touching her, she wasn’t capable of doing anything at all but looking down at his deeply tanned skin against hers.

He was right—the way the two of them fit together was so beautiful, one large, the other smaller, both full of a desire that was stronger even than the thunder and lightning raging outside the log cabin.

He ran his hands down past her ribs, over her flat belly, his fingers playing over her hipbones, until he was cupping her hips in his hands and dragging her back against him to take her mouth again. She sank into his kiss, into the hands cupping her so firmly, so warmly, so sweetly as they massaged her gently from her bottom to the muscles of her back and shoulders, sore from both the ride on the horse and the hard work she’d put in fixing the fence.

One of his hands moved back to brush against her cheek before plunging into her hair, already drying from the heat of the fire behind them. With his other hand, he stroked down the hourglass of her curves, from the swell of her breast to the indentation of her waist, back out to the flare of her hips.

“Grayson.”

She’d sworn never to beg him for anything, that she’d earn with hard work every day on his farm and every night in the bedroom he’d given her. And yet, begging him to touch her, to take her all the way over the edge he’d already brought her to, was as natural as breathing. As natural as the path of his hand from her hips to her stomach.

She was trembling now with need for him, but when he slowly slid his hand down lower, and then lower still between her thighs, she wasn’t the only one who couldn’t find steady ground.

“So hot.” He groaned the words into her neck, where he’d buried his face. “And so goddamned wet. God, I can’t believe how ready you are for me.”

He slipped one finger, then two, into her, and she couldn’t think, could barely remember to breathe.

All she could do was feel.

The heat of him. The shockingly sweet slide of his fingers in and out of her. The press of his thumb over her clitoris.

The storm came to a head outside with thunder and lightning practically crashing down on the cabin just as the storm inside of her broke. She rocked into his hand and he crushed his mouth to hers again to drink from her cries of pleasure.

* * *

He couldn’t stop kissing her, couldn’t stop reveling in the slick softness between her legs. God, he wanted to taste her, wanted to drop to his knees and kiss every inch of her beautiful body. And then, after he made her come again against his tongue, he wanted to pull her down to the floor with him, her gorgeous legs wrapped around his hips as he took her fast and furiously.

The storm that was raging outside had raged just as powerfully inside him—until the moment he realized he didn’t have protection on him, damn it.

Why would he? He didn’t need condoms to head out into the field to work with his horses and cows, to fix fence, to rotate his crops.

But even as practicalities stopped him cold, he knew they weren’t the real reason why he wasn’t going to pull Lori down to the crude wood floor and take her. And it wasn’t because he didn’t want her, either. Lord, he couldn’t ever remember wanting to make love to a woman more, had never needed to know this badly what it would feel like to sink into her.

All these years in California he’d made sure to keep to himself, to feed a community without ever connecting with anyone beyond the food he grew for them. He couldn’t allow himself to fall in love again, refused to let anyone touch his heart, his soul, when he knew he needed to keep them both locked up and punished for the way his wife had died.

But even as Grayson reminded himself of all the reasons he couldn’t permit himself to feel anything for Lori, he couldn’t stop thinking about the moment she had finally stilled in his arms after her climax.

He’d felt every inch of her softness in his arms...and every bit of her vulnerability.

She acted so tough, put on that sassy act at every turn. But he’d seen the flashes of pain in her when she didn’t think he was looking, simply because he couldn’t look away. It was why he’d let her stay when he thought she’d be next to useless as a farmhand.

Because he’d recognized in her the need to heal that had been in himself three years ago when he’d found the farm.

And yet, even though he’d lived with her for nearly a week, and even though she’d just come apart in his arms and it had been one of the most beautiful things he’d ever experienced in thirty-five years, he still didn’t know a damn thing about why she was on the farm.

Or what she was hiding from.

Grayson knew what he needed to do. He needed to push her away; needed to lash out hard enough that she couldn’t possibly stay; needed to find a way to live with himself for adding more pain to her eyes, more tears on her pillow. He needed a way to forget that he had begun to respect her for turning out to be much stronger than he’d initially given her credit for, filled with a determination that couldn’t help but impress him.

And, most of all, he needed to remember that the last time he’d let himself fall for a woman, he’d ended up losing her.

Grayson couldn’t repeat that. Ever.

Lori’s fingers were moving to his belt buckle when he removed his hands from her and forced himself to take a step back as he said, “This never should have happened.”

Chapter Twelve

Five words were all it took for Lori to feel as if she’d just stepped out into the cold, hard rain, a complete one-eighty from the bliss Grayson had just given her, immediately making everything that had warmed freeze up again.

She knew he was right, that they shouldn’t be doing this, but it didn’t stop his abrupt rejection from hurting. Hurting like crazy, actually, as though his words had run a sharp grater across her already raw insides.

Lori bent down to reach for her clothes, but they were so wet she could barely peel them apart, let alone shove them on so that she could get away from a man she didn’t understand. A man she shouldn’t want to understand when he pulled her into him one second, and shoved her away the next.

She’d been there. She’d done that.

Never again—wasn’t that what she’d vowed?

Oh, how she’d loved being naked in Grayson’s arms, but now that he’d pushed her away, she hated her nakedness. She felt powerless, as if he could see all the way through her when he’d put every single one of his guards back up.