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There was an edge to Rafael tonight, a distinct warning in the very way he held her. His body was as hard as a rock, his skin hot. There was raw possession in the depths of his eyes, in the enormous strength of his arms. Colby was used to men who were ranchers, strong men who thought nothing of tossing hay bales around. Rafael De La Cruz was deceptive in his looks. Long and lean, steel ran through his blood and bones. As soon as Colby felt the heat of his chest through the thin silk of his shirt where her cheek brushed his body, she knew dancing with him was a big mistake. Her heart gave a crazy lurch and she stiffened, tried to hold herself away from him.
Rafael simply pulled her that much closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath against her temple. Felt the hard thick thrust of his arousal pressed against her. Honestly. Casually. As if it didn't matter in the least that she knew the urgency of his body's demand for hers. His fingers curled around her wrist, held her hand tight against his heart. "Sssh," he cautioned, his accent very deep, his voice so husky her entire body trembled with need. "You would not want these men to rush to your rescue."
"They would, too." She forced the words out of her mouth. For one terrible moment she thought her vocal cords were paralyzed. He was too potent up close like this. She had never seen such a sensual man. But it was more than good looks. More than his raw sex appeal. There was a dangerous untamed aura clinging to him. She smelled it on him, felt it up close to him. Like an animal, a wild marauder. He was very dangerous, not only to her, but also to others. The knowledge was deep inside her, elemental, certain. She didn't know where it came from, but she trusted her instincts.
He leaned his dark head toward hers while the music beat through their bodies and rushed through their bloodstream. "What if I told you I could read your mind?" He whispered the words, his lips against the pulse beating so frantically in her neck. Little flames began licking along her neck and shoulder.
Colby closed her eyes. The music surrounded them, encasing them like satin sheets so that she burned with need. They burned together, she felt it in his body. Dancing with him was a kind of sexual torment. She could hear her blood pounding in her ears and her body felt molten with liquid fire. "I would have to call you a liar, Mr. De La Cruz. If there is one thing I know for certain, you can't read my mind." And for that she was eternally grateful. Because she wanted him with every cell in her body. She wanted to feel that perfectly sculpted mouth crushing hers, his hands moving over her, needing her, possessing her.
Rafael held her close, his body painful in its new demands. This woman was the one who belonged to him. He would have her. He had never denied himself a single thing he wanted in centuries of living. Nothing, no one, had aroused his interest in well over a thousand years, longer even. Now his every waking moment was occupied with thoughts of her. Torment. Pure and simply she was torment. Colby Jansen was his and no one would take her from him. Not now, not ever.
Copyright © 2005 by Christine Feehan.
