“I don’t know who gave them that title.’Most likely they did. In any case, are you telling me that you hauled that man through miles of forest and those men didn’t even say thank you?”
“Normally it doesn’t bother me. It really doesn’t. But standing there with Joshua’s blood all over me and my feet hurting like a son of a gun, I felt like a kid again. I felt ashamed of my actions, my lack of control, the terrible thing inside of me that won’t forgive the one who killed my mother. And I wasn’t certain I could forgive them, and still don’t know if I have. Not one of them said they were
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sorry for her death. I felt like I mourned her alone. I felt rage and I felt shame. Damn it, Rachael, I hated that.”
“They’re the ones who should be ashamed with their no forgiveness.” There was a fierce, protective instinct welling up in her. “They don’t know the difference between good and evil. They aren’t very wise.”
“And you do?” He lifted an eyebrow at her.
Outside the birds shrieked and several monkeys screamed a warning. Rio stood up, the water pouring off of him. He turned his head alertly toward the door, taking the towel she handed him. “You need clothes on, Rachael,” Rio said. “Company’s coming and coming fast.”
“I thought you said I didn’t need clothes and I had to get over my civilized inhibited ways.”
Her voice teased his senses, whispered over his skin like a silken glove. She made life worth living. He caught her hair gently, tugged her head to him and fastened his mouth to hers. He was instantly, ravenously hungry all over again. “You’re killing me, sestrilla, I’m not going to survive. I don’t think I have the stamina.”
She laughed softly and flung her arms around him, holding him to her as if he were the most precious thing in the world. She peppered kisses all over his face. “You do just fine. I need to start cooking for you, build up your strength.”
He couldn’t stop his roving hands from sliding down her back, shaping the curve of her hip, cupping her bare buttocks. Rio allowed himself the luxury of burying his face against her soft throat. Love filled him up, burst out of him, a tide he couldn’t stem, but he couldn’t find the words to say it without choking. He held her, feeling her alive and warm and real in his arms. “Damn it, Rachael.” His voice was gruff as he pushed her way, holding her at arm’s length. “You’re turning me into a poodle.”
Her entire face lit up, her dark eyes laughing, her mouth curved and soft and beautiful. He ached to kiss her again, but tossed her a pair of jeans instead. “Stop laughing at me and put your clothes on.”
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Christine Feehan
“A poodle? Have you ever seen a poodle?” She finger-combed her hair, grinning at him. “I have the hair, maybe we can make a match.” The sunlight pooled around her, soft rays that barely filtered through the canopy but found her, were drawn to her in the same way he was drawn. She looked radiant, filled with joy.
He had been so filled with pain and shame and anger the night before. In a few hours of bliss, she had shaken his world, turned it so that he could only feel joy and laughter and a paradise of pleasure. “You’re tempting me, woman, and I’m going to throw you back in that bed.”
She arched an eyebrow at him. “I doubt if I’m in any danger when you were just complaining about stamina. Wimpy male.”
He tackled her, driving her back onto the mattress, throwing his body over hers. She was laughing so hard she could barely breathe. He pressed his erection against her, rubbing back and forth to show her what stamina was all about. Rachael didn’t seem very impressed, laughing until he stopped her with his kisses.
The whoop, whoop of warning by the birds just outside on the railing of the verandah forced him to leave the temptation of her body. She lay on the bed, laughter fading into a smile as she looked at him. Something about her mysterious, feminine smile set his heart pounding. –