She'd had to turn her phones off. She knew better than to answer the door; no one was out there but reporters demanding a statement.

"I wish they would just go away," she burst out, pushing her hands through her hair before glaring back at him. "I hate having all the windows so tightly covered all the time."

"They need their pound of flesh," he told her. "But they'll go away. Eventually."

She stared back at him angrily. "That's easy for you to say. It's not your pound of flesh they're trying to strip off."

Without waiting for another one of his asinine comments, Amelia turned and stalked to the kitchen.

"That's very true," he agreed as he followed her. "But have no fear, sweetheart. Until I've taken what I want of your pretty little body, I promise not to allow anyone else to take what they want."

Amelia was certain she couldn't have heard him correctly.

She turned slowly and stared back at him. "What did you just say to me?"

She hated the almost smile he gave her. That tight curve of his lips. There was no softness there, and no mercy.

"You heard me," he told her. "You're mine first. Until I'm finished with you, then no one else can have any part of that lush little body." Leaning against the counter, Crowe crossed his arms over his chest and arched his brows with an arrogance that had her teeth gritting.

"I don't deserve this att.i.tude or your smart-a.s.sed remarks." And she didn't think she could bear the hurtful, unemotional quality of them, either.

He laughed, a merciless, hollow sound. "Logan, Rafe, and I didn't deserve to be orphans, disowned and torn from our families. My sister didn't deserve a life of emotional isolation, and every lover any of us had didn't deserve to be raped and murdered. And I'll be d.a.m.ned, but I didn't deserve the nightmares I had nightly that one of us would f.u.c.k up, and you'd be next."

Before she could register the fact that he had moved, his hands were gripping her shoulders, his voice rasping furiously, his eyes blazing more brilliantly than ever.

He wasn't cold any longer, but now she felt as if her heart were suddenly in danger from the man standing in front of her.

"Do you think I didn't have nightmares, too?" Her voice broke on a sob, the memories of her haunting fears rushing over her. "But I wasn't afraid for myself, Crowe." She had to fight back the tears that would have fallen. "I was terrified you would disappear as Stoner did. That would have destroyed me."

As quickly as he had grabbed her, Crowe released her at the mention of her ex-husband.

"You think Wayne is the reason Stoner left you?" He turned back to her, his gaze suddenly shuttered, his face brooding.

Did she think Wayne had been behind it?

Amelia would have laughed at the question if the situation had been less nerve racking.

She knew he had been behind it. "After he left, Wayne came to my room and a.s.sured me he had taken care of all of it," she remembered bitterly. And she couldn't help but feel the smallest measure of grat.i.tude to the b.a.s.t.a.r.d for that. She was certain Wayne hadn't meant to be merciful, but that one time- Crowe laughed, a hard, bitter sound that had her flinching. "h.e.l.l, Amelia. Did you really care that much for him?"

"I hated him." The sharp exclamation surprised him. "He was a b.a.s.t.a.r.d who deserved to be castrated and imprisoned-"

"He was a disease that needed to be eradicated. Trust me, Amelia, all he deserved was a bullet to put everyone he knew out of the misery he caused them." Amelia flinched at the rage that seemed to radiate from Crowe.

She'd once thought she knew this man far better than anyone in her life, but she'd never imagined he would condone murder.

Even if he felt it was deserved.

Facing him, her chin lifted, her hands planting on her hips. "He deserved to be punished, not put out of his misery. Killing a man like Stoner Wright is a waste of a d.a.m.ned good sin better used for something a h.e.l.l of a lot more fun."

And of course, she should have watched what she said around this man.

"Such as?" he growled, moving closer to her again, his head bending to give her the full force of his imperious gaze.

Her eyes widened then narrowed as she all but rose to her tiptoes in confrontation. "I can think of far more interesting sins for you to commit, Crowe," she snapped back at him. "And would have thought you could as well." Her gaze flickered over his face, the savage planes and sharp angles, the brooding, heavy-lashed eyes, and his merciless gaze. "Or have you lost the imagination you once had?"

Then, his lashes swept to half-mast, his expression suddenly turned so blatantly sensual it sent a wave of pure, fiery l.u.s.t sweeping through her body.

"If it's sinning with you, then I do indeed have a h.e.l.l of an imagination."

Completely male and erotic, the look on his face, the sound of his voice, and the sudden shocking contact as he pulled her against his very aroused body had a surprised cry falling from her lips.

Her palms flattened against his chest, but whether it was to push him away or to absorb the heat of his body, even she couldn't say for sure.

What she did know for sure was that the air around them heated, growing heavy and saturated with a s.e.xual hunger she hadn't shared with anyone but Crowe in her life. That same intensity burned in his gaze as his eyes glittered with hunger and male dominance.

Her body, betrayer that it was, responded immediately.

Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, already swollen, her nipples already tight with the need for his touch increased their responsiveness. Between her thighs the folds of her p.u.s.s.y swelled, her c.l.i.t throbbing, pulsing, greedy for the slightest touch as the need to climax began to burn in her womb.

She couldn't handle this.

She knew the danger of it, the risks that came with allowing him to touch her, allowing herself to need his touch.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, hearing the aching need in her voice. "You know this isn't wise."

"When was I ever wise where you're concerned?" One hand moved from her back to clasp her waist before pushing beneath the soft cashmere sh.e.l.l she wore with a black skirt.

Inhaling sharply at the feel of his callused fingertips and palm against her sensitive flesh, Amelia found herself helpless against the wave of erotic pleasure flooding her senses.

"We can't do this." A hard gasp broke the thought as he cupped the curve of her breast, tested the rounded firmness, then investigated her achingly hard nipple.

Pleasure raced from the hard peak to the throbbing bud of her c.l.i.t, then clenched the delicate tissue of her v.a.g.i.n.a.

"Why can't we do this, elf?" he asked, his voice a sensually dark croon. "Trust me, I bet both our parts are in fine working order." His strong teeth nipped gently at the full curve of her lower lip. "Just think, we don't have to hurry now. You won't have to smother those wild little moans and I won't have to restrain this completely primitive need I have to leave my mark on your skin where everyone will see it, and know by G.o.d that you're claimed, Amelia." Possessive hunger exploded from him with a force she couldn't have prepared herself for.

His lips covered hers, parted them, and turned a meeting of flesh into a stamp of dominance that Amelia found herself helpless against. Found herself luxuriating in her helplessness, in the complete submission of her senses to this one man.

Something primitive and so primally female it seemed to burn in the very depths of her senses surged to life as he held her to him and stoked that flame to a full, hungry blaze.

Each dart of his tongue against hers, each stroke of his thumb over the responsive tip of her nipple, each new press of his erection into her lower stomach fanned the flame higher, brighter.

Her hands caressed his shoulders, the need to touch his flesh growing-but it hadn't yet overcome the need to hold on to his kiss. Instead she fisted her fingers in his hair, heard his muttered groan as she tried to pull his lips tighter to her, to feel that same lash of pleasure-pain she had felt that summer so long ago.

She had ached for this.

She had dreamed of it.

Nothing-oh G.o.d, nothing had ever been this good, felt this wild and incredible.

"Ah G.o.d, Amelia." His lips left hers, his kisses moving over her jaw, his tongue taking brief tastes, his teeth nipping sensually as the fiery caresses moved to her neck.

Ultrasensitive, completely responsive, the flesh beneath her ear was so tender, so susceptible to the stroke of his lips, his tongue, that the nerve endings seemed directly connected to each s.e.xual center of her body.

His lips covered that bit of flesh just beneath the lobe, tugged it into the heat of his mouth, and began drawing on it with slow, sensual hunger. It sent a rush of sensation stabbing at her nipples before streaking heatedly to her womb, where the sharp clench and burn had a lash of fiery heat striking repeatedly at her c.l.i.toris.

Oh G.o.d, she was going to come.

"Crowe." The strangled cry was either pleasure or protest-even she wasn't certain which.

Another brilliant pulse of sensation surged through her system, immersing her in such a storm of incredible, sensual hunger that she felt lost.

Pulling back, Crowe gripped the hem of her cashmere sh.e.l.l and dragged it over her lace-covered b.r.e.a.s.t.s. His head lowered, his lips burying between the curves, his tongue licking lazily, sensually at the sensitive flesh there.

Amelia's breath caught. His lips were so close to her nipples.

The small latch at the front of her bra released, allowing him to push the delicate lace cups from her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, baring her curves to his gaze.

Amelia stilled as his head lifted. Forcing her eyes to open partway, she stared up at him.

"How f.u.c.king pretty," Crowe breathed out roughly, one hand cupping the swollen weight of a breast as he rubbed over the tight, hard peak with his thumb. "Such a pretty pink, like the sweetest candy, and so tight and hard."

The dark croon sent a rush of sensation to tighten spasmodically in her womb.

"I dream about sucking those pretty nipples." His head lowered as he brushed his lips against the violently sensitive little tips.

"Oh G.o.d-" A hard, brutal flex of pleasure centered in her womb, pulsing outward and nearly hurtling her over that edge of sensation into release.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her, his brown eyes piercing and hungry.

"How long has it been, fairy-girl, since this hot little body has come from the pleasure it was given?" he whispered, though the demand in his voice was unmistakable.

Heat flooded her face at the explicit question.

"Don't-" Before she could voice more of the protest a strong, male finger lay against her lips.

"Uh-uh," he said firmly. "Answer me, Amelia. Tell me how long it's been."

She couldn't. Oh G.o.d, she couldn't tell him. The shame of it was unbearable. Her fingers fell from his hair to his neck.

"I was married," she reminded him desperately.

Pure fire erupted in his eyes. Savage, intense, the fury that blazed in the rich amber of that predatory gaze caused her eyes to widen. "Amelia, don't bother lying to me by saying that little b.a.s.t.a.r.d made you o.r.g.a.s.m," he rasped, his tone grating. "Because I promise you won't like the consequences." His head lowered, his lips brushing over a tight peak again.

Immediately the pleasure returned in fiery spikes of sensation.

"Who was the last man to bring this pretty"-his tongue swiped over the hard tip as she cried out desperately-"pretty little body to its release?"

"Why does it mat-" A cry tore from her throat, her body tightening, sensation striking in a furious burst of heat in her core as he covered her nipple with his lips, sucking it into the heat of his mouth with a blazing, fierce hunger that had him drawing on it with tight, deep pulls of his mouth.

A second later the fiery heat was gone just as quickly, his head turning as his cheek rested against the painful ache of her nipple.

"Tell me," he demanded again, his voice harsh. "Tell me, Amelia. Or I stop now."

Stop? Oh G.o.d, she couldn't bear it if he stopped.

"You!" she cried out desperately, twisting against him as she tried to tempt him to pull the throbbing, swollen flesh back into his mouth.

His head lifted, his gaze heavy-lidded, possessive.

"You," she whispered again. "I've only come for you."

CHAPTER 4.

It was as though Amelia had been lost, wandering aimlessly in a cold, deserted loneliness until Crowe touched her.

Until his lips possessed her, his dominance warmed her.

Before, she had been helpless in a world of manipulations and a desperate battle to ensure Wayne never destroyed the man who owned her heart, or the secrets it sometimes seemed she had sold her soul to protect.

Now she could be free.

There was the smallest chance Wayne was gone forever.

But even if he wasn't, the world now knew him for the monster he was, and the power he had controlled was s.n.a.t.c.hed from his grasp.

And she was in Crowe's arms again.

"Don't stop," she begged brokenly, certain she couldn't bear taking a breath without the pleasure rippling through her.

His head lifted. "So long," he whispered. She felt him release the little clip of her skirt, then slowly ease the zipper over her hip.

The silk slid down her legs to pool about the four-inch heels of her black pumps.

"Sweet merciful heaven," he breathed, lifting her arms to remove the cashmere sh.e.l.l. When she lowered them again he brushed the straps of her bra over her shoulders; they slid down her arms and to the floor next to her skirt.

Left clad in silk thigh-highs-the lacy band circling her leg just below her thigh-and black silk-and-lace French-cut panties, Amelia felt her nakedness as she never had before.

Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s felt heavy, her nipples aching and hot. Her skin was so sensitive, the brush of the air against it was nearly physical.

"Hold on to me," he demanded, gripping her hips as she moved her hands immediately to his shoulders to balance herself.

In the next second he was settling her rear on the kitchen island, parting her legs and moving quickly between them.