Jacob swore the ground moved beneath his feet.
Zande knew she heard the roar of thunder and felt the blue-white lash of lightning.
Jacob kicked open the door to the cabin and managed to make it inside, his body raging. The beast within, ever present, fought for supremacy.
He fastened his mouth to hers, a little out of control, a soft warning growl emanating from deep within his throat as she tried to lift her head.
His hand spanned her throat, holding her to him, holding her as if she were a part of him. Holding her as if she was the most precious thing in the world and he couldn't be without her.
His other hand skimmed her waist, then stopped to rest there, hot and urgent even though his palm was lying quietly against her skin.
Zande was so aware of it, aware of how close it was to the most intimate, sensitive parts of her body. She ached for him. Wanted him. She was beyond thinking rationally; she wanted his hand to move. Either direction, it didn't matter.
