Opposites Attract

laugh. “Then you’re going to get a real charge out of this,” she promised, kicking wildly as he threw her on the bed. Even though her reflexes were quick, Ty had her pinned beneath him in seconds. Breathless, she struggled to bring her knee up to his weakest point.
    “Not that violent.” Wisely he shifted to safety.
    She twisted, squirmed and struggled. “You take your hands off me.”
    “Soon as I’m finished,” he agreed, slipping a hand under the blouse that had come loose from her waistband.
    Refusing to acknowledge the sensation of pleasure, Asher glared at him. “Don’t you touch me.”
    “I have to touch you to make love to you.” His smile was reasonable and friendly. “It’s the only way I know how.”
    I will not laugh
, she ordered herself as the gurgle rose in her throat. She was angry, furious, she reminded herself.
    Ty recognized the weakening and capitalized on it. “Your eyes get purple when you’re mad. I like it.” He kissed her firmly shut mouth. “Why don’t you yell at me some more?”
    “I have nothing more to say to you,” Asher claimed haughtily. “Please go away.”
    “But we haven’t made love yet.” Lightly he rubbed his nose against hers.
    Refusing to be charmed, she turned her head away. “We aren’t going to.”
    “Wanna bet?” With one swift move he ripped her blouse from neck to waist.
    “Ty!”
Shocked, Asher gaped at him, her mouth open.
    “I nearly did that when you were on Centre Court today. You should be glad I waited.” Before she could react he tore her shorts into ragged pieces. Thinking he might have gone mad, Asher stayed perfectly still. “Something wrong?” he asked as his hand moved to cup her breast.
    “Ty, you can’t tear my clothes.”
    “I already did.” Soft as a feather, his hand roamed down to her stomach. “Want to tear mine?”
    “No.” Her skin was beginning to quiver. She tried to shift away and found herself held prisoner.
    “I made you angry.”
    Her head cleared long enough for her to glare at him. “Yes, and—”
    “Angry enough to win,” he murmured, trailing his lips along her throat. “And when I watched you I nearly exploded from wanting you. All that passion simmering just under the surface. And only I know what it’s like when it escapes.”
    She gave a little moan as his fingers stroked the point of her breast but tried to cling to reality. “You had no business saying I was tanking.”
    “I didn’t say that, I only planted the idea.” When he lifted his head, the look in his eyes had her drawing in a quick breath. “Did you think I’d stand by and watch him get to you like that? No man gets to you, Asher, no man but me.”
    With a savage kiss he cut off all words, all thoughts.
    ***
    It always surprised Asher that Ty could project such raw sexuality in black tie. Conservative, formal dress could do nothing to alter his air of primitive masculinity. The material could cover the muscles, but it couldn’t disguise the strength. There had been times Asher had wondered if it was his earthiness that had drawn her to him. Glimpsing him in a room filled with elegantly attired men and women, she knew it was more than that. It was all of him, every aspect, from temper to humor, that had made her his.
    The Wimbledon ball was as traditional as the tournament. The music, the lights, the people. It was always an evening to remember for its beauty and tastefulness. Asher counted the hours until it would be over. Scolding herself, she tuned back into the conversation of her dance partner. She’d always enjoyed a party, always found pleasure in quiet well-run affairs. But now she wished she and Ty could have shared a bottle of wine in their room.
    She didn’t want the spotlight this evening, but candlelight. Over the heads of the other dancers her eyes met Ty’s. It took only one brief glance to know that his thoughts mirrored hers. Love threatened to drown her.
    “You’re a lovely dancer, Miss Wolfe.”
    As the music ended, Asher smiled at her partner. “Thank you.” Her smile never wavered as it ran through her head that she had completely forgotten the man’s name.
    “I was a great fan of your father’s, you know.” The man cupped a hand under her elbow to lead her from the dance floor. “The Golden Boy of Tennis.” With a sigh he patted Asher’s hand. “Of course, I remember his early days, before you were born.”
    “Wimbledon has always been his favorite. Dad loved the