The volcano he’d imagined erupted at the first touch. Her body shuddered, quaked. And he watched, impossibly aroused, as her head fell back. Not surrender. Even in his own delirium, he understood that she was not surrendering. It was abandonment, the pure, unleashed quest for pleasure. He gave her more, and gave to himself, stroking that velvet fire, letting his tongue slide over hers in a delicious, matching rhythm.

How could she have known that desire could be dark and deadly? Or that she, always so sure, always so cautious, would throw reason to the winds for more of the dangerous delights? No, not just more. All of them, she thought dizzily. All of him. She would have all. Locking her legs around his hips, she took him into her.

She heard his gasp—the first one ended with a groan. She saw his eyes, cobalt now, and fixed on hers as he shifted to fill her. A sword to the hilt. Then he moved, and she with him. Lost in the whirlwind, she heard nothing but the screaming of her own heart.

“The bigger they are,” Rachel murmured some time later.

“Hmm?”

Smiling to herself, she lifted one of Zack’s hands, let it go and watched it drop limply to the rug. “The harder they fall.” She rolled over and propped her elbows on his chest so that she could study him. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he was sleeping—or unconscious. His breathing had slowed—somewhat—but his eyes were still closed. It had been some time since he’d moved a single muscle.

“You know, Muldoon, you look like you went ten rounds with the champ.”

His lips curved. It was about all he had the energy for. “You pack a hell of a punch, sugar.”

As a matter of principle, she bit his shoulder. “Don’t call me ‘sugar.’ But, since you mention it, you didn’t do too badly yourself.”

He opened one eye. “Too badly? I melted you down to a gooey puddle.”

True enough, she admitted, but she wouldn’t stroke his ego by agreeing. “I’ll say that you have a certain unrefined style that is strangely appealing.” She trailed a fingertip down his chest. “But the simple fact is, I had to carry you.” That got his other eye open, she thought with satisfaction. “Not that I minded. I didn’t have anything else pressing to do this afternoon.”

“You carried me?”

“Metaphorically speaking.”

His opinion of that was short and rude. “Want to take me on again? Champ?”

She fluttered her lashes. “Any time. Any place.”

“Here and now.” She was laughing as he rolled her over, but the laughter ended on a hiss of pain when he bumped her bruised cheek. “Klutz,” she said as he jerked back and swore.

“I’m sorry.”