Only 04 - Only Love

the dark woman-flower concealed between your thighs.
    You’ll bloom for me, honey girl. I’m as sure of it as I’ve ever been of anything.
    But first I’ve got to get past that hellhound of yours without scaring you to death.
    “I’m on my way,” Whip called.
    His voice was curt. Prettyface was a whole row of thorns in Whip’s side. Though only partly wolf in his body, the dog was mostly wolf in his temperament. Despite Whip’s best efforts, the animal refused to treat Whip as anything but a dangerous intruder. Several times Whip had found himself on the edge of reaching for the snarling dog to teach it the only kind of lesson it seemed capable of learning from a man.
    Fear, pure and simple.
    Whip knew it was the wolf’s nature to give way only to superior strength. After Whip’s strength was established, respect would come, and then, finally, he could begin teaching Prettyface that not all men took pleasure in abusing a mongrel with the eyes of a wild wolf.
    Given time, Prettyface would not only accept Whip, the dog would give Whip the same trust and loyalty he gave to the girl who had found him beaten nearly to death on the trail from Holler Creek.
    All Whip needed was time.
    How much time do I have before that sunrise calls my name?
    There was no answer to Whip’s silent question. There never had been. When the wanderlust took him, he packed up and left. Nor did he ever come back to the same place again.
    Sunrise called to him only once from each new land.
    Before he left Echo Basin, Whip planned to see that Shannon’s cabin was in good repair, the larder was overflowing, and the firewood was stacked to the eaves on three sides of the cabin. It was what he had always done for the openhearted widows whose paths he crossed, even if the women did no more than cook his meals and mend his shirts and share the warmth of their kitchens with a yondering man.
    The world was a difficult place for a woman alone, a fact that Whip understood better than most men. That was why he was haunted by the vision of Shannon lying beneath a fallen tree…Shannon injured and alone, no one to help her, no one even to know that she needed help.
    She’s a widow whether she admits it or not. She’s got to be. Hell, she doesn’t even act married. She keeps watching me like she’s never seen a man before.
    And I watch her like she’s the first woman I’ve ever seen.
    Frowning, Whip pulled off his leather work gloves, stuffed them into his back pocket, and picked up the bullwhip that always lay within easy reach. As he walked toward the house, Prettyface appeared from the surrounding forest and snarled viciously at him.
    “Good morning to you, too, you evil-tempered son of a bitch,” Whip said pleasantly.
    “Prettyface, stop that!” Shannon called from inside.
    The dog’s snarling increased.
    Shannon rushed to the cabin door. Half-braided hair spilled out of her hands and fanned over the faded blue flannel of her shirt. The contrast between the worn fabric and the lustrous silk of her hair tempted Whip almost beyond endurance.
    “Stop that!” Shannon commanded, staring right at the dog’s yellow eyes.
    Prettyface gave Whip a predatory look. Then, reluctantly, the dog obeyed his mistress.
    Whip gave the look back with interest before he turned to the basin of steaming water Shannon had put out for him. His folding razor lay by the basin, along with soap and the faded, flower-printed rag. As he bent over the water, the familiar scent of mint floated up to him.
    Without warning, desire raked Whip, tightening every muscle in his body. He drew a deep, careful breath, then another, until his body slowly began to relax. The ease and intensity of his arousal around Shannon was a warning to him.
    And an incredible lure. Whip had never wanted a woman the way he wanted Shannon Conner Smith.
    The sensible part of Whip’s mind told him that his growing obsession with Shannon was the best reason in the world for him to pack up and ride on. Only heartbreak could come of an affair between a yondering man and a young widow who watched him with dreams in her eyes.
    But Whip wasn’t listening to caution or conscience anymore. He sensed too clearly the unspeakable ecstasy that awaited him within Shannon’s body. Until he drank the dark wine ofher sensuality to the last, lush drop, he wouldn’t leave.
    He couldn’t.
    I need her.
    Come heaven, come hell, I have to have her.
    The intensity of his own thoughts shocked Whip. Some time in