Lover Beware

measure; it slipped away in the darkness and the roar of the wind, the rain slicking their skin, the heat that built in waves, stretching the tension tight until it was close to unbearable.
    His teeth fastened on the tender flesh at the join of her neck and shoulder, and the small erotic nip sent her spinning over the edge, heat and darkness lapping at her as she clung to his shoulders.
    She caught the edge of a short, harsh word, then his mouth locked on hers and he shoved deep and she felt him come inside her again, the pulsing shiveringly deep and prolonged.
    They lay in an exhausted tangle, until finally, Rider moved, pulling her up with him. They made it to the kitchen with its lamp still glowing softly on the table. Rider slammed the door, framed her face, and lowered his mouth to hers, the kiss long and drugging.
    Before she was able to feel the vulnerability of being naked while Rider still had his jeans on, he walked her back three steps, lifted her onto the table, parted her legs, and stepped between them. She looped her arms around his neck as his mouth moved over hers again, the kiss intense and oddly sweet as the rain pounded on the windows, violent and tropically heavy.
    He lifted his head, and when he spoke his voice was dark, and faintly hoarse. “This time I want you to watch, I want you to know who’s making love to you.”
    Her gaze snagged on his, and she wondered that she’d ever thought his eyes cold. “I know who you are.”
    His hands tangled in her hair, his forehead dropped to hers. “Sometimes I wondered if you even knew I was alive.”
    She cupped his face, and suppressed a smile, feeling as giddy as a teenager. “I don’t know if anyone’s ever told you this, Rider, but you’re hard to miss.”
    Incredibly, his smile bordered on embarrassed, then her breath caught as he began to enter her by slow, deliberate increments. Outside in the dark, she’d been aware of shape and proportion, but it had been too dark to make out any detail. In the soft lantern light, every part of him was visible, and like the rest of him, his genitals were sleek and beautifully formed, his shaft long and muscular, his testicles heavy and pulled up tight against the shaft.
    She wrapped her legs around his waist, the movement tilting her hips and deepening the penetration. His thumb eased up from the place they were joined, and slid over the tight bud of her clitoris, once, twice, and heat spasmed through her again and she began to climax. His arms came around her and she felt him thicken inside her, the long, hard pulsing of his release.
    Eventually, he lifted his head from the curve of her shoulder, his expression soft and faintly wry. “You see why I spent so much time away? If I’d stayed in Tayler’s Creek, Tucker would have resurrected some old law about adultery, locked me up, and thrown away the key.”
    His arms tightened around her, and he lifted her from the bench, collected the lantern from the table, and carried her upstairs.
    She indicated which room was hers, and he set her down on the bed, pulled a fistful of foil packets from his jeans, and placed them on her bedside table alongside the lantern. “I can use these if you want, but it’s too late for them now.”
    The breath stalled in her throat as he peeled out of his jeans. Way too late. And he’d come over with more than just a handful, he had a supply.
    She caught the edge of a male grin. “I’ve been carrying them since I got home. You had to know I was going to try and get you into bed.”
    He pushed the covers back, climbed into bed with her, and pulled her close. “But the hell I wanted to use them.”
    Fully naked, he was beautiful; his shoulders wide, his chest broad, his belly flat and ridged, his legs long and muscled. She touched a scar that curved over his stomach, another that made a puckered shape just above one hip. When she questioned him about the injuries, he answered with typical male brevity, then switched to questioning her, seemingly more interested in the small day-to-day details of her life, and the complicated dynamics of her large, extended family—who were mostly resident in Auckland—than the fact that he had nearly died, twice. As the conversation ebbed and flowed, the tension that had gripped her when she saw the injuries dissipated, and she was happy to simply wallow in the totally unexpected contentment of just being with Rider.
    A series of heavier than normal gusts of wind buffeted the house