Lover Beware 03 - After Midnight

they'd put this relationship on hold, because Patrick had been important to her; he had needed her.
    But it was their time now. She touched Rider's jaw, and felt the tension there. "Then let's do it."
    Possessive heat flared in his eyes, but this time, it was going to be her way. Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed him flat and took a moment to admire the body that had been driving all of the women of Tayler's Creek—single or married—
    crazy for years.
    His dark gaze flashed over her as she straddled him, and After Midnight
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    his hands cupped her waist. "When you get pregnant," he said flatly, "we get married."
    As Jane wrapped her fingers around his shaft, she thought he muttered, "If not before," and a peculiarly female satisfaction curled through her. Three days ago, she'd thought of herself as civilized to the nth degree, and driven by logic rather than emotion, but in the space of those few days her world, and her view of herself, had been turned upside down. In any other circumstances Rider's hard-ass male demand that she marry him would be considered outrageous in the extreme and ignored. As proposals went, it was a disgrace, but in this case, what mattered to Jane was that Rider was vulnerable enough that he wanted to make certain of her.
    Fitting the broad head of his penis to her opening, she slowly lowered herself, hovering at the brink of penetration until the exquisite pressure was almost beyond bearing. They'd already made love three times, but this time her awareness and sensitivity were heightened to an almost painful degree.
    Taking a deep breath, she increased the downward pressure until the first tight constriction was breached and she took him inside her in a slow, hot glide, heat pouring through her at the massive sense of impalement.
    She settled herself more firmly over him, shimmying slightly to ease the tight fit, her eyes briefly closing at the exquisite sensation of fullness. "You're supposed to have a ring, Rider."
    His hands slid to her hips, locking her tight against him.
    His gaze fastened on hers, dark and hot, and lit with humour.
    "Michael. The name's Michael. And don't worry, I've got the ring."
    WHEN SHE WOKE it was still dark, but greying, as if morning was close.
    She wasn't sure what had pulled her from sleep, and she was surprised she'd woken at all, because she felt heavy and exhausted. Vaguely, she noticed that the wind was no longer buffeting the house, although it was always possible that an extra strong gust, or even a flash of lightning, had woken her.
    Yawning, she allowed her lids to drift closed, then a rending creak jerked her back to full awareness.

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    FIONA BRAND
    Rider's arm tightened around her, telling her that he was awake.
    The creak came again, out of sync with the steady whine of the wind, as if someone were peeling corrugated iron from the roof.
    A chill ran the length of her spine. She could feel the coiled tension in Rider's body. Another short, sharp creak practically made her jump out of her skin, and suddenly she was sure.
    "There's someone on the roof."
    "He's in the ceiling."
    A finger pressed on her lips, signaling quiet, then Rider slid from the bed and pulled on his jeans. Jane climbed out of bed and slid drawers open as quietly as she could, extracting un-derwear and a fresh shirt and shorts by feel. When she was dressed, Rider's hand locked around hers.
    He bent his head and spoke close to her ear. "Stay here, so I know where you are." He pressed a cold, smooth object into her hand, which she realized was his cell phone, which he must have had in his jeans pocket. "Call emergency services, and don't let up until they dispatch a police cruiser. Get Tucker if you can. Tell him we've got his boy—if he's interested."
    Rider disappeared into the hallway, then just as quickly reappeared, flattening himself against the wall and motioning for her to get down. Jane ducked down beside the bed and began dialing, keeping an eye on the inky opening of the door-way as she strained to see in the darkness.
    A large shape coalesced out of the thicker shadows, and a weird elongated shape slid into the room. Cold welled in her stomach when she realized the strange shape was the barrel of a gun, and the reason it was so high was because the stock was resting against a man's shoulder.
    There was a flurry of movement. A grunt erupted, followed by a vicious curse, then Michael's figure merged with the intruder's as he gripped the gun and wrenched