Page 15 of Point of Mercy

He swiveled around so fast to stare at her that she nearly gasped. “You made it perfectly clear what you thought of me the first time we met, and every day thereafter. Now you’d better climb on that damned horse of yours and ride out of here or I might just show you how much of a gentleman I ain’t.”

“You don’t scare me,” she said, though her insides were quivering.

“Well, I should.”

“Why?” She walked up to the ledge where he was sitting and stared down at his wet crown. Drops of river water still clung to his hair, causing the gold streaks to disappear. He leaned back, his eyes focused on her so intently that her heart nearly stopped. With eyes that smoldered like hot steel, he studied her for a long, breathless moment.

“Because,” he said, rising to his more than six feet and taking his turn to stare down at her. “Because I think about you. A lot. And my thoughts aren’t always decent.”

Oh, God. Her knees threatened to crumble.

“So, what’re you really doing here, Heather?” Reaching forward, he touched the edge of her jaw, drawing along the soft underside with one damp finger. She trembled and swallowed hard as his gaze searched the contours of her face. “Because we both know that you and I, alone, can only mean trouble.”

Her heart was pumping, its erratic beat pounding in her eardrums and her skin, where he touched it, felt on fire. Knowing she was stepping into dangerous, hot territory, she decided to plunge in further. “I came here because I care, Turner.”

He snorted in disbelief.

“Mazie said that you were having a rough time of it, and I thought I… I hoped that I could help.”

He barked out a hard laugh, and the finger that was traveling along her chin slid lower, down her neck, pausing at the slope of her shoulder before sliding down between her breasts.“And how did you think you’d do that, eh?” he asked, but his own breathing seemed suddenly as uneven as her own.

She grabbed his wrist and held his hand away from her. “Don’t try to cheapen this, okay? I’m here as a friend.”

“Maybe I don’t need afriendright now. Maybe I need a lover.”

Her stomach did a flip. Sheryl’s warning flitted into her head then disappeared like morning fog. “Maybe you need both.”

He eyed her silently, his gaze moving down her body slowly, then up again. “I think you’d better get on your horse and leave, little girl, while you still can.”

“I said it before, Turner Brooks. I’m not afraid of you.”

“Then you’re a fool, Heather.” Reluctance flared in his eyes for just a second as he grabbed her and yanked her body hard against his. Before she could utter a word of protest, he pressed his hot lips to hers, molded his wet body against her own and kissed her with such a fevered passion, she thought she might pass out. His arms were strong and possessive, his body as solid and hot as she’d imagined.

Closing her eyes, she swayed against him. The river seemed to roar in her ears and the thunder of her heart was only eclipsed by the sound of his, beating an irregular tattoo. His tongue pressed hungrily against her teeth, and she opened her mouth, feeling the sweet pressure of his hands against the small of her back. She felt weak and powerful all at once as emotion upon emotion ripped through her.

She thought of denial, of surrender, of love and of hate, but she was powerless to do anything but return his kisses with her own awakening passion which exploded like a powder keg at his touch. One of his hands lowered, cupping her buttocks, lifting her from her feet so she could feel his hardness, his desire. Still she wasn’t frightened, and all her doubts seemed to float away into the twilight. She was a virgin, a girl who had never experienced the thrill of a man’s passion and for the first time in her life, her virginity seemed no longer a virtue, but a prison.

With Turner, she could be freed of the bonds. She ran her fingers down his shoulders, feeling the corded texture of his skin, tasting the salt on his lips, smelling the powerful scents of maleness and river water.

Lifting his head, he stared down at her for a second. His eyes were no longer angry but glazed. A red flush had darkened the color of his skin. “Do you know what you’re doing?”

“I don’t care….”

“This is insane—”

She kissed him again, and with all the strength he could muster, he grabbed her forearms and held her at arm’s length from him.

He was breathing hard now and his lips were pale with strain. “Listen to me, damn it! We’re playing with fire, here, and one of us is gonna get burned.”

Her senses were spinning wildly out of control, but slowed instantly as she realized that he was rejecting her. She, who was ready to offer him her body as a means to balm his wounds, was being told that he didn’t want her.Tears, unwelcome drops of misery, suddenly filled her eyes. “Turner—”

“Don’t you see, Heather? I’m just using you!” he said, though the pain in his eyes wouldn’t go away.

“I don’t believe—”

“I don’t wantyou,I just wantsomeone.Got it? Any woman would do.”

Her heart crumbled into a million pieces; he couldn’t have hurt her more if he’d thrust a white-hot knife into her chest. “You don’t mean—”

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