“Take off the rest,” Gage commanded. She liked it when he took control, and after the way the men in the cantina had looked at her, he needed to mark her, brand her as his, bind her to him in some way.

“Unbraid your hair.”

Standing naked in front of him, she pulled off the band holding her long golden-red braid and combed her fingers through it, separating the fiery strands, spreading them around her shoulders. His groin tightened painfully, urging him to take her.

Gage ignored the demands of his body, refusing to be hurried. Not today.

“Come here,” he said softly, waiting patiently as she approached, her eyes never leaving his face. The moments dragged out, making him harder still.

“I’ve never told you how beautiful you are,” he said, trailing a finger down her cheek. “I’ve never said that I think about being inside you even when you’re not around.”

She reached out and flattened her palms on his chest. “I think about you, too, Gage. I remember the way you touch me, and I want more.”

His heartbeat quickened. He reached out and cupped a pale, ripe breast, ran his thumb back and forth across her nipple. Abby trembled as he bent his head and took the fullness into his mouth. She combed her fingers through his hair, silently begging for more.

Unzipping his cargo pants, Gage freed himself, kissed her deeply as he lifted her up and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her arms slid around his neck. He carried her across the room and sat down on the edge of the bed, adjusting her so she straddled him, a knee on each side, spreading her open for his touch.

Abby’s head fell back as he began to stroke her, knowing what she liked and exactly the way she liked it. She was ready for him, as she always was, her body hot and slick as he positioned his hard length and slid himself inside.

Abby moaned, and her hold tightened around his neck.

“Easy . . .” Refusing to be rushed, he gripped her hips to hold her in place and began to move, slowly at first, then driving deep, taking what he wanted, giving her what she wanted too.

Abby clung to him, her long, fiery hair shifting across her back, her body moving in perfect rhythm with his.

He wanted to tell her how good she felt, how she matched him better than any woman he had ever known. He might have, if it weren’t for the power it would give her, a power he couldn’t afford to concede.

“Hold on, baby,” he said, slamming into her faster, deeper, harder. “Stay with me.” The breeze from the ceiling fan washed over him, but it did nothing to cool his blood.