"Why? I thought you liked it when I put my hands on you."
"You thought wrong." And he did. Because she didn't like it... she loved it. However, she wasn't about to tell him that. Her shredded dignity wouldn't allow it.
His voice lowered a dangerous pitch. "Careful, princess. You keep pushing me, and I'll be more than happy to come over there and prove just how big a liar you are."
Oh, that hurt! It had been weeks since she'd lied to him, and he knew it! "Why you conceited, no-good, miserable... bastard! How dare you—?"
"Shut up, Amanda." Jake took a step toward her. Another. "I didn't come here to fight with you."
"No? Then what did you come for?"
"This," he growled, and as soon as he was within reach, he grabbed her.
Amanda didn't realize how close he was until she felt his fingers manacle her upper arms. With a flick of his wrist, Jake hauled her up hard against his chest. The air rushed from her mouth... and was swallowed up by his.
With a growl, his lips crashed down on hers. The kiss was long, hard, raw. Hungry and demanding. Amanda didn't want to flower open for him, Jake could feel her reluctance, but in the end she did. Nor did he want to need to taste her so damn badly, but he did.
His tongue stroked her, plundered and mated with hers until he felt her fingers, fisting his shirt, loosen, open, and caress. He caught her whimper with his mouth, and a shudder racked his body when he felt her melt into him.
He'd meant to claim her. To make her physically admit how much she'd missed him in the time they'd been apart—every bit as much as he'd missed her. He'd proved it to them both. But, as always, it simply wasn't enough. He needed more from her. So much more! He needed, craved, everything that it was in her to give. That was why he'd followed her, why he was here now.
Amanda Lennox, body and soul. That was what he wanted... what he intended to get. No matter what it took.
Jake felt her knees buckle, and he held her all the closer. His mouth continued to devour hers as he lowered them both to the bed of hard ground and pine needles. The flowery smell of her soap mingled with her natural scent; both invaded his nostrils, invaded his blood, and made the fire roaring through his veins ignite to a feverish degree.
"Surrender," he panted against her kiss-swollen lips. He felt her breath rush over his face in hot, rhythmic waves as his knee tried, and failed, to nudge her legs apart.
"Don't." Her body stiffened beneath him. "Don't do this to me again."
"Please, princess. I... God, I need you. I have to have you." The words cost him. Jake decided it was a price he would have paid ten times over if it meant having this woman—his woman, dammit!—writhing beneath him again, and again, and again.
Amanda shook her head, as much in denial as to shake free the hot, moist mouth that was suckling the side of her neck. She couldn't let this happen again. She wouldn't be able to stand it if Jake loved her now, then turned his back on her in the morning. It would kill her. "No you don't. You need my body, Jake. You don't need me."
The taste of her salty-sweet skin created such a pleasure-pain inside of him that Jake didn't immediately hear her. When the words finally sank in, it was akin to being hit in the head with a rock. He stiffened, lifting himself to glare down at her. Her eyes looked huge, confused, shimmering with unshed tears. It cut Jake up inside to return her gaze. His voice was hoarse and ragged. "I need you, Amanda. More than I've ever needed any woman, anything, in my life, I need you."
He needed her, yes. But did he love her? And could she bear to ask him, only to find out that he didn't? "But I thought you said—?"
"I know what I said, dammit! I—"
The words broke off abruptly when her hands strayed to his shoulders. The tip of her index finger traced the jagged scar on the back of his neck. She felt a shiver run through him. And then she felt...
Frowning, Amanda opened her hands and plowed her fingers through his thick hair. She froze, and her frown deepened. In the dim light, she would have sworn he'd pulled his hair back with a strip of leather, the way she'd seem him do often before. Yet...
Dear God, what had Jake done to his hair?
"Jake?" she asked softly, breathlessly.
He hesitated, and Amanda felt the heat of his sigh on her cheek and neck. "Well? What do you think?"
"I... I'm not sure," she said hesitantly. "It's too dark to see."
"Good. I got a little carried away and it—er—came out a little shorter than I'd planned."
Amanda's head reeled. "My God, you really did, didn't you? You really did cut it?"
"Yes."
She swallowed hard, only to find that a lump of emotion had lodged in her throat. With effort, she worked her voice around it. "Why?"