Wild At Heart

He pinned her to the ground, the solid weight of his body running the length of her, ankle to hip to shoulder. Nose to nose, eye to eye. Lips an inch away.

“Boy fight like girl,” he said in a deadly cool tone, grinning with arrogant triumph.

She should be furious, but a whole new set of confusing emotions turned her quivery and hot inside as the Indian pressed himself intimately against her. She knew Indians had different ideas about propriety, but that didn’t change the effect his touch had upon her.

His scent, raw with musk and pure, virile maleness, filled her nostrils like a drug.

His powerful chest covered hers, pressing down against her breasts. His free hand held her shoulder, pinning her arm between his forearm and ribcage.

And then Penny noticed the solid thickness pressing into her thigh. She stopped struggling, all thoughts going to that spot. Heat blossomed from the very center of her and raced into her limbs. He shifted, rolling that male hardness over her leg with a thrilling sensation of near-pain.

“Does girl feel like boy, too?” she whispered, nearly unable to bring forth her voice at all.