She went out West seeking the man meant to be her own...
Perhaps the most desired debutant on the market—and unfortunately the most unavailable—Annabella St. Claire chances the odds and leaves London seeking a far-away land—and the man promised to be hers. Armed with a plot to kidnap the most notorious bounty-hunter in the West—and in return secure her freedom from a long-standing marriage contract—Anna risks all, but finds herself inexorably drawn to the man she has despised for so long.
And tamed his heart.
Dallon Langston had never been more furious with his father than when he learned he was part of a ridiculous gambling stake. Fed up with aristocracy, he left England to become the bounty-hunter Dallon Harte. He lived his life the way he wished—until he became the one hunted by a very beautiful and demanding huntress.
"By all the Saints, woman!" He cut her off, grabbing her shoulders, pulling her hard up against him. "What lengths will you force me to before you will submit and listen?"
Dallon’s lips came down harshly upon Anna’s as he dragged her closer into his embrace where they stood, the swirling waters rushing softly past, pulling at their legs and toying with the dampened ends of Anna’s hair spilling down around her hips. Dallon held her steadfast as the current in her veins pulsed hotly with his touch, picking up to supersede that of the water rushing past them.
Her heart fluttered frantically with her body’s response. A fright suddenly churned within her. She shouldn’t have been so bold as to disobey, but even in his anger his touch did not turn violent.
She could sense the intensity of his fury, as though his emotions poured off in waves, coupling with the desire he already had for her, which he had warned her not to evoke.
Dallon had one arm banded against her back, his other hand gripped in her hair so she could not escape if she were of a mind to. It wasn’t for wont of struggle, but the more she writhed against him the tighter his hold became. His tongue darted at her lips, seeking entry, and when she gave in, a part of her inconspicuously gave over to him as well.
Anna arched her body into his, her thin chemise not nearly enough to keep her from feeling him against her, the heat of his body, the hardness in his loins. The heady intoxication of his kiss sent her head reeling.
Caught in the moment, the feel of him like a snare set only for her. The way he moved against her and held her proved more captivating than Anna ever imagined. By the time she realized her tongue had begun to tangle with his, she’d become lost in the fire she played with.
Yet, when the kiss turned more ravishing, Anna paused and he pulled back, their harsh breath mingling where their mouths still touched. Anna’s heart drummed. Her lips had become swollen from the assault they’d received. God! She had known she couldn’t let this happen. So swiftly had she given into him again.
His golden eyes turned a hard, turbulent color as he held her gaze. Anna’s mind jerked to a halt, the impact of her own participation hitting her squarely and she finally, impulsively, got in the slap she had wanted to give him for so long now; this strike less forceful than she would have liked, but her emotions were so torn at the moment she scarcely knew what she wanted.
If he dared toy with her again.
The crack of her palm only made his kiss turn even more punishing when Dallon briefly reclaimed her mouth. "Careful, sweetheart, I might like that." His voice sounded deeper and more husky than ever, and his lips brushed hers as he spoke, sending exciting quivers through her when Dallon pulled her back to him. This time not waiting to coerce her lips to open of their own accord, his tongue quickly darted into her mouth.
She’d barely had time to breathe, but she surprised him as he received her tongue thrust into his mouth in return.
Her breasts, heavy where they pressed against him, ached for his touch. Her heart no longer beat frantically, but with a wild rhythm all its own. Dallon’s lips ventured to her neck, and her breath came in shallower pants the more he touched her, the more he kissed her.
She’d never experienced anything akin to this in all her life. She had never dreamed such for that matter, as even her wildest fantasies as a young woman had been devoid of anything so stunningly sensual as this moment.
A soft whimper escaped her and Dallon lifted his head, amazement in his eyes as he looked at her in a new way. Suddenly he swept her into his arms to make way through the current to the bank where he gently laid her, coming from the water to crawl over her like a stalking animal prowling up her body.
Anna gasped her protest, but just as soon surrendered to the feel of his lips returning to her own, all the while Dallon’s fingers gently worked her chemise up until he had grasped the hem in his hand.
Anna’s body arched into his as his hand slid up her leg, flesh to flesh, one of his own legs slipping between her knees as he rose above her.
For only a moment Dallon gazed at her clingy chemise, made transparent by the water, his eyes traveling up to the rosy hue of her nipples standing erect against the cool material. With one fluid motion he rent the garment to its neck. Anna uttered a small cry, looking down at her bared skin. Her eyes flew to his, her chest heaving. Dallon bent to suckle there at each taut peak before covering her with his body once more.
He nudged her legs apart, settling there, more comfortably than Anna had thought possible considering his size. She no longer knew how to stop—if she could stop. That she yielded for him at all had been a startling discovery.
She should have fought him every inch.
Instead she’d all but invited him. Again.
She moaned when he kissed her, then trailed his tongue down to the taut peaks of her breasts again, laving there at each hard bud. Anna arched to meet her body with his mouth, unable to comprehend just what he had done to make her have such a turnabout in feelings toward him.
Dallon drew his hand up her leg, breaking contact with her just enough to find her core. Once found, she closed her eyes against the pleasure he gave her when he slipped a single digit into her warm folds, finding her wet and ready for him.