“Yes, you do.” He pressed closer so that their bodies met and strained, one against the other. He pressed closer to prove something, perhaps only to himself. “Yes, you do,” he repeated. “I came here to do something, and I intend to do it. I don’t give a damn if you call it revenge.”

Her heart was beating lightly at her throat. She wouldn’t call it fear. But his eyes were cold and close. “What else?”

“Justice.”

She felt an uncomfortable twinge, remembering her own feelings on justice. “You’re not using your law books, Jonas.”

“Law doesn’t always equal justice. I’m going to find out what happened to my brother and why.” He skimmed his hand over her face and tangled his fingers in her hair. He didn’t find silk and satin, but a woman of strength. “But there’s more now. I look at you and I want you.” He reached out, taking her face in his hand so that she had no choice but to look directly at him. “I hold you and I forget what I have to do. Damn it, you’re in my way.”

At the end of the words, his mouth was crushed hard on hers. He hadn’t meant to. He hadn’t had a choice. Before he’d been gentle with her because the look in her eyes requested it. Now he was rough, desperate, because the power of his own needs demanded it.

He frightened her. She’d never known fear could be a source of exhilaration. As her heart pounded in her throat, she let him pull her closer, still closer to the edge. He dared her to jump off, to let herself tumble down into the unknown. To risk.

His mouth drew desperately from hers, seeking passion, seeking submission, seeking strength. He wanted it all. He wanted it mindlessly from her. His hands were reaching for her as if they’d always done so. When he found her, she stiffened, resisted, then melted so quickly that it was nearly impossible to tell one mood from the next. She smelled of the sea and tasted of innocence, a combination of mystery and sweetness that drove him mad.

Forgetting everything but her, he drew her toward the bed and fulfillment.

“No.” Liz pushed against him, fighting to bring herself back. They were in her daughter’s room. “Jonas, this is wrong.”

He took her by the shoulders. “Damn it, it may be the only thing that’s right.”

She shook her head, and though unsteady, backed away. His eyes weren’t cold now. A woman might dream of having a man look at her with such fire and need. A woman might toss all caution aside if only to have a man want her with such turbulent desire. She couldn’t.