She knew, oh, she knew. She wanted to relax but she couldn’t, her entire body was coiled and tense. Her legs clamped around him, pulling him to her. Her hips lifted, seeking, but the angle was wrong and his erection was a stiff rod between them, pushing and making her gasp with pain. He fought her grip, levering himself away far enough to get his hand between them while she desperately tried to pull him back.

“Jesus,’” he said between clenched teeth. “Cate—God! Let me—” He dragged the head of his penis into place and worked it inside her, then pushed hard.

She heard herself taking ragged breaths, almost sobbing. It hurt. She was surprised by how much it hurt. She was wet and aroused, but almost locked with tension. She wanted to cry. Site wanted to scream. She wanted to buck him off and be rid of this hot, full, stretched sensation, and at the same time she wanted him to thrust hard and fast until this horrible tension was gone and she could relax again. Her fingers dug into his back, found his muscles as tight as hers.

He was sucking in deep breaths, too, his entire body shaking as if he were straining against some irresistible force. She turned her head and saw his fingers sunk into the web of branches beneath the pad, the muscles in his forearm standing out and quivering.

He made a raw sound, and pressed his forehead against hers. “If I move, I’ll come.”

If he didn’t move, she would die.

They strained against each other, desperately fighting to control the savage urgency that gripped them. She whimpered, feeling as if she’d been caught in some great vortex that was about to tear her to pieces, whirling her closer and closer to some unbearable destruction. She gave a small scream and her inner muscles clamped convulsively around him. Her sight dimmed, the world went away, and she began coming.

His control broke and he braced over her, his whole body surging, flexing, thrusting, pushing so deep she screamed again. He shook with the force of his climax, shook and cursed and groaned so harshly the sounds seemed to tear from his chest.

Slowly, so slowly, he collapsed onto her.

She became aware that he was incredibly heavy, for someone who looked so lean. And he was hot, his body heat counteracting the frigid air creeping into their little enclosure. She was still clutching at his back, and she forced her hands to relax. They slid down his back, brushed over the smoothness of his bare buttocks.

Her cheeks were wet. She didn’t know why she was crying, and she really wasn’t; she was gasping for breath and trying to slow her galloping heartbeat, but the tears kept leaking from her eyes. He kissed them away, nuzzled her temples, her jawline, and finally settled on her mouth. She felt the stickiness of his semen leaking out of her, but he didn’t withdraw even though she could tell that he’d softened. Staying inside her saved time.

The second time was much, much slower. She came again, but though he got hard, he couldn’t climax, and he didn’t seem to care. He just kept moving against her like the ripple of wind on a lake, riding her to a third climax before she begged him to stop. She was going to be sore and she suspected he would be, too, but still she hated that moment when their flesh separated, and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out in protest.

They managed to clean up, using some of the bottled water; then he pulled up his pants and with a groan collapsed back onto the sleep pad, pulling her down on top of him. With both blankets over them and sharing their body heat, she was much warmer than before and quickly dozed off, to waken when he shifted beneath her.

She touched his face, loving the stubble that scraped her palm, loving, too. the way he pressed a light kiss to her palm before dosing his eyes again.

“You stopped blushing.” she murmured, tracing her fingertip over the curve of his tipper lip. Suddenly the subject seemed important. “Why did you stop blushing?”‘

He opened his eyes, his gaze steady on her face. “Because you started.”

She had blushed around him lately; she’d been so confused by the abrupt change in her feelings for him that she’d felt completely unbalanced.

“When you moved here.” he said, “I knew you weren’t ready.” His quiet voice wrapped around her like a touch. The snow outside had muted all other sounds except the gentle crackling of the fire, and his voice. “You were still in shock from losing your husband, still grieving. You had a wall around you that didn’t let you see me as a man.”

“I saw you.” she protested. “You just seemed so shy—”

A faint smile quirked his lips. “Yeah. The whole town got a kick out of watching me blush and stammer like a schoolkid when you were anywhere around.”

“But that was—From the very beginning? Three years ago?” She was surprised. No, she was astounded, and completely shocked. She couldn’t have been so totally oblivious, so blind to something a thirteen-year-old would have noticed.

“From the first time I saw you.”

“Why didn’t you say something?” She felt indignant that everyone else knew and she’d been completely in the dark.

“You weren’t ready,” he repeated. “There were only two men you addressed as ‘mister’—Creed and me. Think about it.”

She didn’t have to think about it. The truth was there like a highway billboard. They were the only two truly eligible men in Trail Stop—Gordon Moon didn’t count—and she had firmly put them at a distance.

“When you called me by my first name, I knew the wall was down,” he said, lifting his head to kiss her.

“Everyone knew.” She couldn’t get over that.

“Not only that—uh—I guess I have another confession. Your house didn’t need that much work. They would sabotage it, do things like cutting a wire or loosening a pipe fitting so you’d have a leak, just to throw us together. They thought it was funny to watch me fall all over myself if you spoke to me.”

She stared at him, trying to decide whether she should laugh or get angry. “But—but,” she sputtered.

“I could take it.” He smiled at her. “I’m a patient man. And they were doing what they could to get us together. They didn’t want to lose a good handyman.”

Okay, now she was completely at sea. “Why would they lose you?”

“I’d been out of the Marines a month when you came to Trail Stop. I was cruising around the country, not sure what I wanted to do. and I came to visit Creed. He was my commanding officer in the Corps, and we became friends. He got out… oh, eight years ago, I guess, and I hadn’t seen him since, so I looked him up. I’d been here a couple of weeks and was getting ready to move on when you moved in. I saw you, and stayed. Simple as that.”

What was simple about it? “I thought you lived here! I thought you’d been here for years!” She was almost wailing, though she didn’t know why, other than because she felt like such an idiot.

“Nope. I’ve been here two weeks longer than you.”

She stared down at the tender expression in his eyes, saw the toughness and completeness of him as a man, the utter strength, and she wanted to weep. She opened her mouth, intending to say something important and meaningful, but the words that came out were neither.

“But I have a mouth like a duck!”

He blinked, and in complete seriousness said, “I like ducks.”