Wyoming Strong. Diana Palmer

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СКАЧАТЬ description. It blew away the pain. It gave her peace.

      Black Silk had a wild, free spirit, much like Sara herself. She tossed the saddle onto his back, checked the bindings and swung gracefully up onto his back. She pushed him into a full gallop across the pasture. Laughing, with her lithe body clinging to the saddle, her long black hair flying behind her, she made a picture that an artist would have loved.

      But the man driving along the road, watching her, was filled with horror. She could break her neck like that!

      He drove hell for leather down the road to the end of the pasture, swung the Mercedes up to the fence and slammed out of it seconds after he cut off the engine.

      Sara, shocked, saw him and pulled Black Silk up at the fence, patting him to ease his nervousness. She let him walk to the watering trough and sat still while he drank, and a furious Wolf Patterson came right over the fence toward her.

      “Get down,” he said in a tone that could have curdled milk.

      Speechless, she just sat and looked at him.

      He reached up and pulled her off the horse’s back as if she weighed nothing. He stood there, holding her in his arms off the ground, and glared into her shocked black eyes.

      “You crazy little fool, you could have killed yourself!” he ground out.

      “But...I always ride...like that,” she began.

      His hard face was pale. His eyes were flashing like fireworks. His eyes fell to her beautiful face, to her wide black eyes, to her soft bow of a mouth. He groaned, almost shivering with hunger, and suddenly brought his mouth right down over Sara’s soft lips without one single sign of hesitation.

      He felt her body go stiff. His mouth insisted, but the harder he kissed her, the more she stiffened. After a few seconds, he realized that she was frightened of him.

      He forced himself to slow down, although her mouth was the sweetest nectar he’d tasted in years. He smoothed his lips tenderly over her top lip, teasing it, toying with it, in a silence broken only by the raspy sound of his own breathing and the quick rhythm of hers.

      “I won’t hurt you,” he whispered. “Don’t fight me. Open your mouth under mine. Let me taste you...”

      She’d never felt anything quite like it. Her hands had a death grip on his neck, cold and tremulous as she let him kiss her. It had been years since she’d even tolerated a kiss. His mouth was sensuous, firm, very expert. She didn’t know what to do, but she did relax just a little. It felt good. It felt...wonderful. Nothing like the man in her nightmares...

      He lifted his head a few seconds later and looked into her wide, curious black eyes. “You don’t know how to do this,” he said in a deep, almost shocked tone.

      She swallowed. She could taste him on her mouth, tasted coffee and something like mint.

      He was fascinated. He bent to her mouth again, drew his ever so softly over it, smiling faintly, because she wasn’t resisting him.

      “Like this,” he whispered, and taught her the brushing little caresses that were tender and slow and arousing.

      She followed his lead, her heart racing. He was her worst enemy in the world, and she was letting him kiss her. Not only that. She was...kissing him back. He tasted like honey...

      “That’s it, baby,” he whispered. “Yes. Just like that...”

      His arms contracted and his mouth opened, pressing her lips apart. His body was hardening as he held her. He hadn’t felt anything so powerful for a very long time. Her mouth was the sweetest honey he’d ever had.

      She felt the strength in his hard arms, the warmth of his muscular chest against her breasts. She moaned softly as sensations she’d never felt in her life lanced through her.

      He heard the soft moan and suddenly ground her breasts against him as the fever began to burn in him. That was when he felt her go stiff.

      He forced himself to lift his head. Her eyes were wide and shocked, and now there was fear in them. His eyes narrowed as he realized why. Her nipples were hard, like little stones pressing into his chest. Did she know why they were hard? he wondered. Because she acted like a woman with her first man.

      His chin lifted as he looked at her. He felt arrogant. “Have you ever had a man?” he asked in a deep, rough whisper.

      Her reaction shocked him. She made a sound like a sob deep in her throat and pushed at him, frantically. “Let me down. Let me down, please!”

      He put her on her feet. She looked up at him with anguish.

      The reaction set him off. He hadn’t meant to touch her. The way she was riding had frightened him, God knew why. He was only trying to keep her safe. But she backed away as if he’d done something unspeakable.

      His pale eyes narrowed. “Your love life is none of my business,” he said shortly. “But it’s a good act.”

      Her tongue felt thick. “Act?”

      His mouth pulled up into a cold, sarcastic smile. “The frightened virgin bit,” he explained. He slid his hands into his pockets, and hateful memories flooded his mind, of another brunette, coy and teasing and innocent. Except that she wasn’t innocent. She’d tormented him, shattered his life. It had started just like this.

      She wrapped her arms around her chest. She felt cold all over. Technically, she was still a virgin. But that was only due to a physical barrier that had stopped her stepfather long enough for Gabriel to break in the door.

      She closed her eyes, and a wave of pure nausea swept over her. She was back in that time, in that space, in her room, screaming for help that she never expected to come. Her mother had gone shopping. Gabriel was in school. Except that he’d left class early. Thank God he had!

      She shivered.

      Wolf, watching her, was torn by conflicting emotions. Part of him was ablaze with a monstrous desire to push her down in the grass and have her right there. Another, saner, part was certain that it was an act. A woman who traveled, was sophisticated and was of her age was afraid of kisses? She’d been putting on an act. In his car, after the opera, in the park and now here. Tempt him, pretend to be afraid to make him vulnerable. And then the knives would come out of hiding. Exactly as they had with Ysera.

      Ysera. His eyes closed on a silent groan. He’d loved her. What she’d done to him was beyond cruelty.

      Sara had turned away. She climbed back into the saddle. She didn’t look at Wolf Patterson.

      “I’ve been riding horses since I was three years old,” she said through her teeth. “When I was younger, I did rodeo. I know how to handle horses.”

      “And now I know that, don’t I?” he said. He smiled at her. It wasn’t a nice smile. It was demeaning, arrogant. “Just for the record, I don’t like brunettes. You might have noticed that the women I date are blonde.”

      She didn’t answer him.

      “The frightened virgin bit won’t work again,” he added. “You’ll have to think of something a little more original. I’m an old fox, honey. I know women.”

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