Revealing Photos

An Ellora’s Cave Romantica Publication

www.ellorascave.com

Revealing Photos ISBN # 1-4199-0722-0 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Revealing Photos Copyright© 2006 Mary Winter Edited by Kelli Kwiatkowski. Cover art by Syneca. Electronic book Publication: September 2006

This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any means existing without written permission from the publisher, Ellora’s Cave Publishing, Inc.® 1056 Home Avenue, Akron OH 443103502. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the authors’ imagination and used fictitiously.

Content Advisory: The following material contains graphic sexual content meant for mature readers. This story has been rated E–rotic by a minimum of three independent reviewers. Ellora’s Cave Publishing offers three levels of Romantica™ reading entertainment: S (S-ensuous), E (Erotic), and X (X-treme). S-ensuous love scenes are explicit and leave nothing to the imagination. E-rotic love scenes are explicit, leave nothing to the imagination, and are high in volume per the overall word count. In addition, some E-rated titles might contain fantasy material that some readers find objectionable, such as bondage, submission, same sex encounters, forced seductions, and so forth. E-rated titles are the most graphic titles we carry; it is common, for instance, for an author to use words such as “fucking”, “cock”, “pussy”, and such within their work of literature. X-treme titles differ from E-rated titles only in plot premise and storyline execution. Unlike E-rated titles, stories designated with the letter X tend to contain controversial subject matter not for the faint of heart.

REVEALING PHOTOS

Mary Winter

Dedication To Mom, for introducing me to the joys of the west (and cowboys), and thanks for reminding me about that magazine on my coffee table about the New Mexico wild horses. It’s always nice to expand the “herd”.

Revealing Photos

Chapter One 7 p.m.

Nerissa Stockholme never thought her work as a photojournalist would lead her to the doorstep of the one man who had touched her soul. Fifteen years ago he’d saved her life. He’d also been her first love, her only love. And then his family had abruptly moved away. She’d finished high school, gone onto college, built her career…but no one since had affected her quite like Clint Song Shale. Breathing deeply, she inhaled the scents of juniper and the tang of wood smoke in the chill September night. The last chimes from the doorbell faded into silence. “C’mon,” Nerissa muttered under her breath. She glanced at the darkened windows of the one-story ranch home, and then checked to be sure her dark brown hair was still confined in its ponytail. Clint had to be home. She’d driven to Santa Fe with the hope that he would be. She only had a few days to spare before flying out again on assignment. A horse’s shrill whinny cut through the night. Hooves pounded against hardpacked earth. From the ranch nearby? she wondered, then her thoughts shifted to the pictures that sat heavy in her bag. Nerissa’s heart leapt and, taking the animal’s cry as a sign, she rang the doorbell again. This time lights flared to life inside the house. Nerissa thought she heard footsteps, and then the door opened as far as the chain would allow. “Who is it?” Clint asked. His voice, a few notes deeper than it had been in high school, bathed her in a tide of warmth and familiarity. “Nerissa Stockholme. I need to talk to you. It’s important.” Her rehearsed speech echoed in her mind. She’d had to prepare something—it wouldn’t do to knock on

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Clint’s door and accuse him of shape-shifting. Not when there might be other, more rational explanations for the photos in her bag. The chain rattled and the door opened, revealing Clint standing there wrapped only in a navy blue towel that matched his eyes. Sharp cheekbones and a hawklike nose beneath dark eyes announced his Native American heritage. His long black hair hung in damp locks over his shoulders, draped over his smooth chest. Drops of water slid between his flat pectorals and down his ridged abdomen to disappear into the towel. Strong thighs emerged from beneath the covering, leading into muscled legs. In high school he’d been wiry and tough. As an adult, Clint instantly made her mouth dry and her pussy wet. She dragged her gaze back past the bulge in his towel to his face. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to catch you at a bad time,” Nerissa said. “But it’s important. I need to talk to you.” Clint stepped back to let her inside. If he was surprised to see her after all this time, he didn’t show it. “Let me get some jeans. Come in, make yourself comfortable.” He closed the door behind her then pointed to the living room before disappearing down the hall. Nerissa sat on the wide black leather couch. She set her bag at her feet and glanced around at the sparse and masculine furnishings. None of Clint’s paintings hung in the room. Instead, other western artists dominated the décor. Clint returned, a pair of jeans low on his hips, the top button undone. “Nerissa, it’s nice to see you. It’s been a while. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” He sat beside her, his voice modulated, carefully controlled. The smell of clean skin and woodsy soap washed over her. Behind her bra and thin, cotton sleeveless shirt, her nipples pebbled. Images flashed through her mind. Two boys—both football jocks—cornering her after school. Their hands all over her shirt, her skirt…and then Clint was there. He pulled one boy off her, punching the other in the nose. Fists flew. 6

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Clint had earned a black eye and a split lip for his heroics, and Nerissa, well…she’d fallen in love with her savior. Two months later they had started going steady. A few months after that, without warning, Clint’s family moved and she’d never seen him again. Their hot and heavy relationship sundered. She hadn’t even been able to track him down, though she had tried often in the years after his departure. But after college her career had taken off like a racehorse, and she had stopped trying to find him. By that time, of course, searching wasn’t necessary. Clint had set the art world on fire with his work. His name was on the lips of art critics across the country. With his good looks and stunning artwork, Clint had created a buzz around him most stars would envy. Now, everyone knew where to find him—living among the majestic landscape that inspired his work. While she had thought of Clint often, especially after he started appearing in the press, Nerissa’s busy schedule had her hopping from one country to the next. But one fateful day last summer had changed everything—the day she’d snapped the pictures she now carried. Nerissa emerged from her thoughts to find Clint staring at her expectantly. “I wanted to talk to you about your artwork. My sister runs a ranch for disadvantaged children and she’s doing a fundraiser. A Clint Song Shale original would fetch a high price and really help her ranch.” The lie rolled off her lips with ease. She hoped. She hated herself for it, didn’t want to lie. But she could hardly whip out the photographs and expect him to explain them to a woman he hadn’t seen in years. Especially when she suspected the very reason his family had moved so abruptly was to keep Clint’s secret safe. Clint studied her for a moment. “I have no doubt your sister’s ranch would benefit from one of my paintings, Nerissa, but we both know you can’t lie. You forget, I taught you how to play poker.” Oh, she hadn’t forgotten the hot nights when the cards were tossed aside in exchange for the pleasure of exploring their budding sexuality and each other. 7

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“Besides, you could have called and asked for a painting. I get several similar calls a week, though usually they ask for a print or something smaller than an original. And you’re a well-known photographer. I’m sure your pictures would fetch just as much money, if not more, for your sister’s ranch. So tell me, why are you really here?” Clint reached over, placed his hand on her knee and smiled. “A man can hope it’s for a reunion.” She latched on to the excuse like a life preserver. “Yeah. I just returned from South America and caught a glimpse of your painting at the Albuquerque airport. When I realized you were so close, well…I couldn’t let the opportunity pass me by.” She glanced blatantly down to the fly of his jeans before turning her attention back to his face. “So, are you happy to see me?” If what she’d seen below the waist was any indication, he was very happy to see her. “Yeah,” he said. “I am.” Leaning forward, Clint brushed his lips across hers. The gentle contact immediately rekindled the torch she’d once carried for him, if it ever went out. She swayed against him, her hand splayed against his bare chest. Her lips parted and she kissed him back, her eyelids fluttering closed. His hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her there while he slid his tongue into her mouth. Stroke and retreat. Stroke and retreat. He sucked on her lower lip, drawing it into his mouth. Nerissa moaned. Her fingers moved against his chest, kneading, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin. Clint pressed her back against the arm of the couch, his strong body stretched out above hers. His denim-covered erection pressed exactly where she needed it, against her hot pussy. Nerissa lifted her hips and rubbed against him, causing a moan to rumble from deep within his chest. A moment to breathe, and then he claimed her lips once more. Clint plundered her mouth. His tongue swept inside, teasing hers, stroking, mimicking a deeper, more fulfilling penetration. Her pussy clenched, the thick ridge 8

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pressing against it not nearly enough. Caressing his back, she tangled the fingers of one hand into his hair, her other hand following his spine to his tight ass. She grabbed it, her fingers kneading and releasing like a cat’s paws. Rearing up enough to slide his hands between them, he deftly pulled her shirt from her jeans and shoved it up. The front clasp of her bra gave way, and immediately he cupped her breasts in his large, calloused hands. Fingers flicked over her nipples, bringing them to painful peaks. His lips pulled away from hers to press open-mouthed kisses against her jaw, her neck. “God, Nerissa. Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?” Clint’s husky admission sent shivers down her spine. “Not as long as I have.” She grinned saucily at him then lifted her arms to pull her shirt over her head. It fluttered to the floor beside the couch, along with her bra. Clint shifted above her, pausing to stare at her naked breasts. His nostrils flared, his green eyes darkening with desire. How’d we get here so quickly? Nerissa’s mind swam, but right now the logistics didn’t matter. As a teenager, Clint had made her feel wanted, desired. As a man, one look made her feel like the sexiest woman in the universe. She walked her fingers over his chest and along his neck and chin until she cupped a smooth cheek. The pictures in her bag were nearly forgotten. Right now she needed to feel the hard length of his cock inside her. She needed to be in his arms once more. She’d waited too long. Dipping his head to her breast, he nuzzled her soft flesh. She cupped her breast, offering it to him, and he drew the nipple into his mouth, suckling her. She held the back of his head with one hand, the other reaching down and across rippled abs to try to stroke his cock. He was just far enough out of reach that her fingers brushed against the waistband of his jeans. Fire, pure and simple. It consumed her, raged through her body. She whimpered with need as he reared back to unbutton and unzip her jeans. She lifted her hips, allowing him to slide the jeans and her cotton bikini underwear over her hips. Tennis 9

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shoes were kicked off and out of the way and then she lay on his couch, naked to his gaze. Her legs parted and as he kneeled between her knees, his attention fastened onto her labia, slick with her cream. He touched her gently. She cried out, hips bucking at the caress. His finger slid easily through her juices. So many nights she’d lain in strange beds in strange countries, fingers working between her legs as she thought of Clint. The reality of the man paled in comparison to her imagination. He found the bud of her clit and strummed it. “Ahhh,” she breathed. Two fingers slid inside her. Her mind short-circuited, all rational thought fleeing beneath his sensual onslaught. She could only feel, and feel she did. With his long fingers stroking her tight, slick channel, his thumb caressing her clit and his lips and tongue teasing her nipple, she could only hang on for the ride. Her hips lifted, straining to get closer to him. The smell of her juices filled the air and as his teeth grazed her nipple, she cried out. Her pussy clenched around his digits, harder, faster. Digging her fingers into his shoulders, she tried to hang on as her world spiraled out of control. Being beneath Clint Song Shale was exactly where she wanted to be, and as he stroked a place deep inside her, she gave herself up to the waves of release that pounded through her. Her breathy cries filled the living room. He moved off her long enough to shed his jeans. Nerissa gazed at him, his cock thick and hard, rising from a bed of black curls between his thighs. His balls were drawn tight against his body. She followed the arrow of hair up to his navel then took in the masculine perfection of his smooth chest. “Are you sure?” Clint asked. Nerissa beckoned him with a crooked finger. “It’s all right. I want you, Clint. Fuck me.” He needed no further encouragement. Two steps brought him back to the couch, his body sliding into the cradle of her spread thighs. The tip of his cock brushed against her 10

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sensitive folds and she bit her lip to stifle a moan. Wrapping her arms around him, she pulled him close. Clint braced his weight on his arms and lowered himself over her. His cock slipped between her slick folds and a single, exquisitely slow thrust buried him balls-deep inside her. “Oh yeah,” he growled, head thrown back, eyes tightly closed. Big. Full. Nerissa locked her heels against his buttocks and wished she could keep him buried inside her forever. But she couldn’t. Instead, she could enjoy the moment before she shattered the calm, peaceful existence of his life. She shouldn’t have let herself get into this position, but now that she was here, lying naked beneath him, his hard cock filling her, she didn’t want to leave. He started to move. Slow thrusts brought her to the edge again. She didn’t want slow. She wanted hard and fast, pounding hard enough to shove thoughts of the photographs out of her mind. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she pulled his lips to hers in a bruising kiss, and then there was nothing but sensation. The slap of flesh against flesh filled the air. Their scents mingled and created a perfume far headier than any she’d ever smelled. She cried out, her channel contracting around him as she came yet again. Her orgasm spurred him on and he groaned, thrusting even harder, catching her before she hit bottom and once more lifting her toward the clouds. Sensation drove rational thought from her mind. She couldn’t feel enough, touch enough, taste enough. He couldn’t get deep enough. And then he stiffened above her, a triumphant, guttural cry wrung from his lips as he came. His hot seed bathed her, triggering her own release and again, she cried out her pleasure. For long moments they remained joined, as close as two people could be. Looking up at him, Nerissa brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. He kissed her lips, a tender, chaste kiss compared to what they had just shared, and then he rolled from her and grabbed his jeans. A wave of loss hit her, so acute it hurt.

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He shrugged into his jeans, zipping them but leaving them undone, and then turned to her. “That was one hell of a reunion,” he said, extending his hand to help her up. She found her jeans and shirt, not bothering with underwear or socks, and slid the cotton barriers over her skin. “Not that I minded. Hell, I’d like to take you to my bedroom and lock you away for a few days. But first things first—how come you’ve looked me up now?” He sat beside her, his straightforward words making her wish she could forget all about the contents of her bag. Nerissa breathed deeply in an attempt to center herself and get her bearings. Maybe she shouldn’t have fucked him, but once again her impulsive nature got the best of her, and she’d wanted him for so long… “Clint, I’m so sorry.” She reached into her bag and pulled out several eight-by-ten photos. “I was on location at the Caja del Rio Wild Horse Territory, taking pictures for a nature piece on the untamed land sandwiched between Santa Fe and the Rio Grande. I saw you…” She handed him the sheaf of photos. Clint was stone-faced as he leafed through the pictures. Nerissa knew what he saw, the images forever burned in her mind. Pictures of himself walking in a field, disrobing—then his body shifting, changing, until a wild horse roamed the fields. The images were as startling now as they were the day she took them, and it had taken her months to work up the courage to face him. She glanced at his profile, not liking his lack of emotion. “Who are you working for?” “I’m not working for anyone. My job was to go out there and chronicle the landscape. I’d heard rumors of ranchers setting up traps for the wild horses so I focused on them, hoping maybe to catch one of the ranchers in the act. I didn’t, though I did get a few pictures of mountain lions.” She reached into her bag and handed him additional photographs showing mule deer and mountain lions. “And you also caught pictures of something else.” Clint turned to look at her and handed back the photos. “What are you going to do with them?” 12

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“The ones of the deer and mountain lions and a few of the mustang photos are going to an editor at New Mexico Magazine, with whom I work. The rest I’ll keep, with the exception of the pictures of you and their negatives, which I’ll turn over to you.” “In exchange for what? No one works for free.” Clint glanced warily at the photos she held in her hands. Nerissa slid them into an envelope and back into her bag. Clint didn’t admit anything or offer an explanation for the photographs. “I want to know the truth. Who are you? What are you? And I want,” she paused, licking lips suddenly gone dry, “twenty-four hours with you. I want to know the man behind the photographs.” “And see if we can pick up where we left off in high school?” Clint arched an eyebrow and shook his head. “You’re not a cheerleader anymore, sweetheart, and I’m not the shy, outsider kid who was more interested in art than football.” “I know.” Oh, how she knew. The memory of their lovemaking moments ago was imprinted on her mind. Her nipples still tingled and her pussy still ached. Reaching across the space separating them, Nerissa curled her fingers around his arm and took a deep breath. “I’ve never stopped thinking about you. I need to know the truth about what you are.” “I can’t deny it’s me in the photographs. But they have to be manipulated or computer-enhanced or something. No one can change into a horse. That’s just silly.” He laughed unconvincingly, and Nerissa wondered if he expected her to say something. If he didn’t want to admit the truth, Nerissa knew she couldn’t force it out of him, not right now anyway. “Look, why don’t you go back to your house, your hotel, wherever you’re staying. If you’ll leave a card, I’ll call you.” Nerissa pulled her hand from his arm. “I don’t have a hotel room, and I’m not leaving my card only to wait for a call that may never come. I want answers, Clint. I came here straight from the airport, and it’s a long way back to my home in Chicago.”

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“Then stay here. You want twenty-four hours? Fine. I’ll give you twenty-four hours. If I discover you’re not telling the truth about the photographs…if you’re actually planning to sell them…” Clint trailed off, shaking his head with a sigh. “The guest bedroom is down the hall. I need to go to my studio out back and finish up a few things.” Nerissa tangled her fingers with his. She knew what he feared, knew the pictures could ruin his career. “Look, you saved me back in high school. I could have been raped, but I wasn’t thanks to you. Take all the time you want. I’ve got a few days before I fly out again on assignment. We can start the twenty-four hours now or later.” “Where are you going?” “Bangladesh.” Clint nodded and said nothing. He glanced at their joined fingers then stepped away, parting them, before striding from the room. A few minutes later Nerissa heard the back door slam. Following the noise, she stared through the square window of the door. Clint strode across the darkened yard with long, angry steps. I guess the twenty-four hours will begin later.

Finding Nerissa standing in his doorway had hit Clint like a two-by-four to the gut. He’d never forgiven his parents for pulling him away, moving him, afraid that she’d learn his secret. And now she had. He stormed through the night, anxious to run, to burn off the adrenaline coursing through his veins. He shouldn’t have had sex with her, but when she sat next to him, her lips just inches from his, he couldn’t ignore the urge. She burned in his veins, an addiction he couldn’t deny even after all of these years. A glance over his shoulder assured him the house was obscured from view. His feet reminded him he’d neglected to put on shoes. He couldn’t walk around out here barefoot, not without the risk of finding a scorpion or centipede. Returning to the house

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meant seeing Nerissa again, and he wasn’t ready for that. And changing now would be foolish in the face of the photos she’d brought. Yet, he was on the other side of the Caja del Rio, and aside from his home, no other houses stood anywhere nearby. And his need was so great… Shedding his jeans, he focused his will. Arms lengthened into legs, his form twisting, shimmering, until a coal-black stallion stood in his place. With a defiant snort into the wind, he bolted into a gallop and ran toward the public lands that until now had been his haven.

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Chapter Two 10 p.m.

With his adrenaline and frustration pounded away by galloping hooves, Clint trotted back to the small rise where he’d left his clothes. Time to return to Nerissa and figure out exactly what he was going to do about the photographs. Sure, he could bluff…call them computer-generated frauds. Or he could tell her the truth. He trusted her not to sell the photographs. He knew Nerissa. Still, the knowledge that she’d discovered his secret warred with his parents’ constant insistence that he keep his shape-shifting heritage unknown. He stopped. Equine nostrils flared and sniffed the wind. Nerissa. He saw her standing on the rise. She still wore the same jeans and shirt she’d had on when she arrived, and he could smell his scent on her. He stopped and snorted. Nerissa stood completely still. He had a choice. He could run, as silly as that was since she knew his secret anyway. Or he could stand here and see how she absorbed the revelation. After all, hadn’t that really been why he’d risked shifting with her so close? To find out whether or not she’d bolt at the first sign of his animal form? As he watched, she bent down and scooped up his jeans. “Clint?” Her soft question floated on the wind. He shook his head and snorted. She strode toward him, hand outstretched. “Clint? Is that really you?” Awe filled her voice as she flattened her hand against his shoulder. He flinched slightly, not used to human contact in his animal form. Bending his neck slowly, he nuzzled her arm, her shoulder, all the while inhaling the floral scent he knew to be uniquely hers. His muscles trembled, all his senses telling him that to let her touch him like this was a risky endeavor. 16

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Nerissa smoothed her palm over his back and flanks. Walking around him, she crooned in a low voice, calming him as she would any horse. On the other side of his body, she stroked his neck, then his jowl and muzzle. “I didn’t know…I didn’t really believe… But seeing you like this, I—” Abruptly she reached up and flung her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Clint battled the equine instinct to flee from the sudden confinement. Instead, with a long snort, he lowered his muzzle to her shoulder, returning her hug the only way he could in this form. When she released him and stepped back, he knew what he had to do. He backed away and saw her raise her hand to keep him from going. With a nod of his head, he focused on shifting. A single thought brought his equine spirit under control and dissipated it. Front legs shortened to arms as the transformation began. Moments later, a loud pop filled the air and then he stood naked before her, sweat covering his skin. “Nerissa,” he said, reaching for his jeans. She handed them over in silence. “Now you know.” He pulled his jeans on, tucking his half-hard cock inside before fastening them. This wasn’t the time to indulge his desires. “So are you still willing to stay the twenty-four hours you’d wanted?” Nerissa nodded. She stepped forward and reached for his hand, lacing her fingers with his. “After what I saw, most definitely. Is this why you moved away so quickly? Because you didn’t want me to know?” Clint expelled a sigh. He suspected she knew the truth already, but wanted to hear it directly from him. His parents had disapproved of their relationship for the sole fact that she wasn’t a shape-shifter. There were others, his parents had promised. They would help keep the bloodlines pure. But back then, he hadn’t wanted anyone other than Nerissa, and standing out here beneath the moon, he realized he still felt the same. He’d never want anyone else. Only Nerissa. 17

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“Let’s head back inside. I need a shower, and then I’ll explain.”

Walking beside Clint, Nerissa didn’t know what to think. She’d seen him change shape from horse to man, just like he had last summer. But until now, she hadn’t truly believed it. The camera lens gave her pictures a surreal, dreamlike quality, and a necessary distance she’d first cultivated when shooting photographs of war-torn countries and starving children. One that lingered when her camera turned to wildlife and nature. Seeing Clint’s transformation without the veil of the camera lens brought home to her the fact that it was real. Clint was real. It fit, in an odd way. His family’s abrupt move. The fact that, while Clint Song Shale’s art commanded high prices and filled galleries, he lived a reclusive life. And though she knew plenty of talented artists, when she looked at Clint’s artwork of mustangs and wide-open desert vistas, she knew deep inside that he wasn’t just painting a picture, he painted part of his soul. Clint led her back inside. “Make yourself at home. I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, padding down the hall. Nerissa stood there for a moment then sat at the dining room table. She listened to the water running, images of Clint standing naked beneath the spray filling her mind. No sooner had she decided to go join him than the water stopped. Moments later he emerged wearing a pair of jeans. He pulled out a chair and straddled it, his arms resting across the back. “You know you can’t tell anyone,” he said. “Of course. And why would I? This is your secret, Clint. It’s not for me to share with the world. Why do you think I came here with the photos?” “Do you want something to drink?” he asked abruptly, rising to his feet. “Water would be fine, thanks.” She watched as he grabbed two glasses from the cupboard and filled them with ice and water from the dispenser on the fridge.

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He set one before her and returned to his chair. Nerissa drank from the glass and then looked at him. “You know I won’t tell anyone. But I’m glad that I know. I’m glad I decided to come here.” “And if you didn’t have the photos, would you still have come here for a reunion, Nerissa?” “Yeah.” A nagging voice in the back of her mind told her she was lying. She would have flown off to Bangladesh and he’d have remained a memory, a fantasy. But taking the photos had rekindled the desire to find him, something she should have done a long time ago. Now she had to take a leap of faith, had to convince him she spoke the truth. “Yes,” she said with more conviction. “I would have. I love you, Clint. I loved you back then and I love you now. I’ve never stopped loving you. I’ll do anything to prove that to you.” “Then maybe it’s a good thing you caught me.” Clint’s eyes twinkled with merriment which quickly passed. “My family moved because they thought I was getting too involved with you. You didn’t know our secrets or anything about our ways, and I wasn’t allowed to tell you. But you know what, Nerissa?” Clint rose to his feet and strode to her chair. Leaning over her, he cupped her cheek. “I never stopped loving you either, and seeing you out there, letting you touch me in my other form, finally brought it home to me.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to her feet. “You said you’d do anything?” Nerissa’s heart pounded. “I did.” “Then come with me.” The double meaning of the words wasn’t lost on her as she followed him down the hall and into a bedroom dominated by a mission-style king-sized bed. The light pinewood and earth-tone cover made the bed, and the room, look inviting. She shivered thinking of herself and Clint in that bed, limbs entangled, making love. “Strip and get on the bed,” he ordered.

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The sudden change in his demeanor sent a flood of moisture to her pussy and pebbled her nipples as she removed her shirt and bra. He watched her, nostrils flared, cock hard behind his confining jeans, as she shimmied out of her clothes. She reclined on the comforter. Clint strode around the bed. As he passed by the foot she parted her legs, letting him see the plump, pink lips of her sex. “Good,” he said. He stepped to the closet and grabbed two silk ties. Deftly he tied her wrists over her head, fastening them to the headboard. “Comfortable?” She nodded, her ability to speak eluding her. “I remember how much you like to be in control.” He unzipped his jeans and stepped out of them, his cock so hard it nearly touched his navel. “Tonight, you’re not.” “And what does this have to do with the pictures?” “Absolutely nothing. This is about you and me now, darlin’.” “But—” Clint leaned forward and pressed two fingers against her lips. “Shhh. Give me a few hours, and then we’ll talk.” He trailed a single digit over her throat, between her breasts, down her abdomen to the neatly trimmed hair at the apex of her thighs. “Surrender control to me. Let me call the shots and I’ll know you’re serious. I know you, Nerissa. You don’t give up control to anyone.” His finger parted her slick folds and flicked across her clit. Nerissa gasped. She lifted her hips, arousal shooting from her clit to her nipples, zinging through her body like an electric current. She felt her pussy grow even wetter, her nipples hard and aching. Even her lips demanded the feel of his flesh, and she didn’t know how she’d last through this torture. Desperate, she bucked against his hand. His finger stilled. “You’re not going to get off that easy.”

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Her breath rasped from between parted lips. Her gaze settled on his cock where it rose from the dark curls. The hours since she’d last felt it within her seemed like an eternity. Clint knelt on the edge of the bed. “Time for me to be in the driver’s seat. I wonder if you’ll beg first, or if you’ll scream?” A wicked grin tilted his lips, and then he leaned forward to lave her nipple with his tongue. Nerissa cried out at the pure pleasure of it. Bucking off the bed, she pressed her breast against his lips. As he drew the tight bud into his mouth and began to suck, she curled her fingers around the ties holding her to the bed. She pulled, the knots refusing to give way. Oh hell. His big hand curved over her breast and she gave herself over to the exquisite feeling. Warm breath against her breast sent shivers down her spine. He licked and suckled as if he were enjoying the finest pastry, her body a delicacy he wanted to savor for all time. He laved the underside of her breast, his wet, sucking kisses making her toes curl. She’d never experienced this side of Clint before, and she liked it. More than liked it. His lips trailed over her flat stomach, his tongue dipping into her belly button. The anticipation of feeling his lips, his tongue, on her pussy nearly made her come right then. Instead, her stomach fluttered and her legs parted wider. Lifting her hips in invitation, she offered herself to him. Clint looked over her body, a naughty grin on his face. “The more you ask, the more I’m going to make you wait.” His hands framed her hips and he kissed his way down one thigh to her knee. He lifted her leg, paying attention to the back of her knee and then up the back of her thigh. With her leg bent into her chest, he sucked on the place where it joined her buttocks, and Nerissa moaned. This close, he had to smell her musky perfume, had to see the juices glistening on her labia. He brushed her sex with the back of his knuckles and her body jolted with pleasure. So close…just a finger, tongue, the press of his lips, anything

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to touch her aching pussy. His warm breath caressed her folds, and Nerissa clenched her fingers on empty air. He crawled back over her, his body pressing hers into the mattress. The hard ridge of his cock throbbed between her legs and she rubbed against it. He opened a drawer on the nightstand, withdrawing a bottle of lube and a condom. The tearing of the foil packet held the promise of ending her torture, as did the sight of him grasping his cock and rolling on the protection. Then he nestled his shoulders between her legs and kissed her heat. Nerissa moaned. Her eyes rolled back in her head as his tongue licked the length of her slit. Finding her clit, he suckled it, alternating between hard pulls of his lips and tapping with his tongue. Her body flooded with pleasure. Her whimpers and moans filled the room. Harder, deeper—and suddenly his tongue filled her channel. As quickly as it entered, his tongue left her body and he rose to his knees. He slicked his sheathed cock with the lube before pressing a finger against the puckered rose of her anus. Nerissa bit her lip to keep from crying out as a single lubed finger stretched her and slipped inside. Clint bent her legs back, baring her ass to his gaze. Grabbing her ankle, he rested it on his shoulders and lowered her against his throbbing cock. It pressed against the cleft between her buttocks, a hard rod she wanted desperately to feel inside her. Slick fingers probed her anus, his other hand rubbing against her clit. And then his cock replaced his fingers. His thick shaft pressed into her virgin hole, stretching her inch by inch. Two fingers thrust in and out of her pussy, making her hornier and wetter than she’d ever been before. He filled her, the pleasure-pain of his entrance nearly too much to bear—and then he pressed his thumb against her clit, and she came. Her scream erupted from her throat just as he plunged himself fully inside her body. Ripples of pleasure pounded through her. Against his fingers, her pussy contracted. She rode wave after wave of orgasm, and when her body stilled, Clint was 22

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there. Cock buried deep inside her ass, fingers in her cunt, he surrounded her. The scent of her arousal filled the room and never had she been as wet and needy as she was at this moment in time. Clint began to move. Slowly at first, mindful of her tender body, he pulled out until his cock rested just inside her back entrance. Then he thrust forward. “Clint,” Nerissa screamed. “Oh God, Clint!” His fingers pumped in and out of her slick channel. One large hand cupped her hip. He pumped her, pushed her, drove her higher than she’d ever been before. Her world narrowed down to his fingers and his cock working their magic inside her. His masculine groans of pleasure mingled with her whimpers as he fucked her. Nipples drawn tight, the bead of her clit wet and swollen, she called his name, a mantra to the rising tide of her orgasm. Clint thrust into her once more and another orgasm tore through her. Her body convulsed around his fingers in her violent explosion. Her throat was raw from screaming and still pleasure thundered in her veins. Clint stiffened. He groaned once, a triumphant shout of masculine release, as his cock jerked inside her body. Nerissa forced her eyes open. He knelt there, her ankle on his shoulders, his cock buried in her ass, his face a mask of pure ecstasy. She drank in the sight of him, wanting to remember this forever, no matter what happened. Slowly he pulled out, rolling away long enough to deposit the condom in the bedside trash can. Her fingers curled around the straps holding her to the bed. “Untie me,” she whispered. He shook his head. “Not yet. I’m not done.” He pressed a hard kiss to her mouth, then rolled away and went into the bathroom. She heard running water and moments later he returned. Nerissa groaned. If this continued much longer she didn’t know if she’d survive the night. His hand made lazy circles on her stomach, occasionally toying with her nipples. Against her leg, his cock grew hard again. 23

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“This time I want your pussy,” he said, moving between her legs. With her backside tender from his ministrations, Nerissa let her legs fall open. Clint braced himself on his arms, his chest a solid wall above her. She wrapped her ankles around his hips, her heels digging into his buttocks when he plunged into her waiting sex. Her body responded, her channel rippling around him. How she managed to stay conscious she didn’t know, for once more he drove into her, his movements more frantic now, and he carried her on a tide with him. Nerissa clamped her thighs around his lean hips and hung on for the ride. His hard and driving thrusts brought her right to the edge again, toppling her over into a quieter waterfall of an orgasm. Her pussy milked him, pulling him deeper inside her. At this moment, the pictures, his ability to shape-shift—none if it mattered. Finally she had him exactly where she wanted him.

Clint pumped into Nerissa, his hands braced on either side of her head. Leaning down, he claimed her lips in a bruising kiss. He never wanted to lose her again. She knew his secret and it didn’t seem to faze her. As her cunt contracted around his cock and he slid his tongue into her mouth, he swallowed her cry of release. So responsive. So beautiful. Their harsh breathing echoed in the room, and his nostrils flared as he inhaled the sweet scent of her juices. She filled him, seeped into his pores, ran in his veins. She was a need he could never sate. His dick throbbed, demanding release. Her tiny heels dug into his buttocks and he regretted tying her up, wanting to feel her arms wrap around his shoulders, her fingers against his back. What started out as an object lesson, a way to get her to release control to him, only ensnared him as surely as the ties that held her wrists. His balls drew tight against his body, the base of his spine tingled as he came so hard he thought the top of his head would blow off. “Nerissa,” he moaned. Wrapping his arms around her, he crushed her to him as she came once more. “Oh, Nerissa!” 24

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Aftershocks quaked through his body and he rolled to his side. Quick tugs on the knots untied her arms, and they wound around him and held him tight against her. Resting his chin on her head, he listened to her deep, even breathing. She shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t have seen her again. Because now, without a doubt, he knew he could never let her go.

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Chapter Three 10 a.m.

Nerissa’s voice cut through the haze of sleep. Rolling over he felt the empty space on the bed for her presence. Warmth from her body still clung to the sheets and he inhaled deeply of her scent. His cock pleasantly ached from their lovemaking last night, and he wondered how she fared. Sitting up in bed, he bunched the covers around his waist and checked the clock sitting on the nightstand, noting the late hour. The luxury of sleeping late faded away as he heard her voice grow louder. She sounded agitated. “You told me I had three days,” she said. From the sounds of footsteps, he guessed she was pacing in his living room. He saw her jeans and shirt on the bedroom floor, and the thought of her out there, naked, had his cock stirring once more. A flash of T-shirt caught the edges of his vision, and he realized that she wore one of his shirts. He grinned. “I don’t do business that way. I’ve already made other arrangements.” Her words wiped the grin from his face. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, determined to find out who she was speaking with, and about what. The pictures, most likely, and the memory of her standing outside, watching him shift, filled his mind. She’d seen him. She knew his secret. What had he done? Exhaling a breath, he thought back to the last person outside his family who learned his secret. He’d thought they had something, a relationship that went beyond the physical and emotional, something deeper. Inexplicably, even his parents approved of the young doctor who had stitched up his wounds when he’d been in a motorcycle accident. The frightful day when she’d turned on him still haunted his memories. He shared his secret with her and she’d laughed, treated it like some joke. When he proved

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it wasn’t, she shied away like a skittish filly, not believing the truth before her eyes. She vanished, and he never heard from her again. Dragging his fingers through his hair, he knew his indiscretion with Nerissa violated his family’s code of silence. If the phone conversation was about what he suspected… Clint shook his head. After what they’d just shared, and all they had shared in the past, he refused to believe she’d be anything other than truthful with him. “Damn it, we had a deal.” Her harsh voice cut through his thoughts. “You can’t back out now.” Her voice faded as she walked away from the bedroom. “You promised me three days, and I’m not—” Rubbing his eyes, Clint rose to his feet. God, what if he’d misjudged her? They hadn’t seen each other in fifteen years. People changed. His gut clenched as he grabbed his jeans and yanked them on. Although he thought he knew Nerissa, and believed her incapable of selling him out, he had no proof. What if her uninhibited responses had been an act designed to get beneath his skin? What if, even now, she was on the phone to the press? No, it was preposterous. Nerissa wouldn’t do that to him. Damn his runaway thoughts. He paused in the doorway, drinking in the sight of her standing in his breakfast nook. His shirt hit her mid-thigh and the sight of her breasts swaying gently under the soft fabric had him walking over to her. She glanced up, her eyes wide. “Look, I have to go. If you can come up with the extra money, and swallow the cost of changing the plane tickets, I’ll be there. But this is a favor, a big one, and you owe me. I’ll be on that plane as promised, okay?” Clint grabbed the phone out of her hand, hit the off button, closed it and tossed it back on the couch. She had a few questions to answer, and he hoped to hell she answered them correctly. If she didn’t, she’d shatter his heart. He stepped back. Just being close to her, feeling the warmth from her body, addled his thoughts. And right now he needed to think straight. If he compromised his privacy 27

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again, he’d never forgive himself. And he’d never forgive Nerissa for breaking his heart. “Who were you talking to?” Clint asked.

His abrupt question caught her off-guard. A scowl marked his face and she stared at her cell phone casually tossed on the couch. What did he think, that she was trying to sell the photos? The more she studied Clint’s stark features, the more she realized that was exactly what he thought. Pain flared through her, a betrayal not unlike the one she’d felt when his family moved away. That they could share what they had, the blissful moments in his arms with his body buried deep inside hers, only to have him think such things of her. Nerissa shook her head and wrapped her arms protectively around middle. She shouldn’t have to explain herself. “The assigning editor for my next gig. I agreed to go to Bangladesh after taking a short rest. He wants me on the plane by tomorrow. Said that I had to fly out immediately if I wanted to keep this job.” She snorted. “I told him I had more important things to do. But he doesn’t care. Said something about weather and guides, and I’m going to have to go.” Clint just stood there, looking at her with something less than belief in his eyes. For a moment she wished she’d never taken the damned pictures. Nerissa exhaled. Either Clint would believe her or he wouldn’t. She knew she’d done nothing wrong. She strolled into the living room and sat down in the same spot she had last night. The memory of what they’d done on the couch, of his body buried deep inside hers, sent heat to her cheeks. She couldn’t look at him and not see him as he was last night, raw, masculine, fulfilling every fantasy and desire and then some.

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Clint’s scowl deepened and he dragged his fingers through his hair. “I want to believe you, but you show up after fifteen years with these photographs. You know my secret, my family’s secret. There are others out there. I can’t let you jeopardize their existence.” “I won’t. I promise.” She searched his gaze, hoping to see anything but the doubt she saw in his eyes. Nerissa shook her head. “After you saved me and what we shared back then, and what we’ve shared now, do you really think I’d sell you out? If you do, then you’re not the man I—” She stopped, afraid of saying anything she’d regret. “I would never do anything to jeopardize you. Not your secret or your reputation,” she finished. Clint sank onto the couch. “After last night, I would hope you wouldn’t.” He didn’t sound convinced. Nerissa didn’t know why, but suspected there were some secrets he still hadn’t shared with her. Reaching across the space separating them, she twined her fingers with his. “You have to believe me. I have only your best interest at heart.” He exhaled, the sound of a man fighting with himself. What inner war he battled, Nerissa didn’t know. “Look, I was raised to be careful. I’ve had to be. I revealed my secret to only one other, and I never heard from her again. I couldn’t bear it if you suddenly ran away, unable to deal with the fact that I’m…different.” Clint pulled his fingers away from hers and Nerissa instantly felt the distance growing between them. She refused to sit there and let him run her off because of a bit of doubt and stubbornness. “I don’t know who she was, but she was stupid. I wish there was a way to make you believe me, a way for me to prove you can trust me. I asked for twentyfour hours, and I’m taking what’s left of them. Tomorrow, I’ll be on a plane to Bangladesh.” Then she boldly pulled his T-shirt over her head and sat naked before him, waiting. 29

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Clint’s nostrils flared, his gaze lingering on her breasts with their hard nipples, then down lower to her pussy. Her already-wet pussy. She had to make him realize she was telling the truth about everything—the pictures and how she felt about him. Leaning forward, she cupped his cheeks in her hands. With the barest hint of stubble rough against her palms, she brushed her thumb across his lips then kissed him. Heart and soul, she poured everything she felt, everything she hoped he’d believe into the motion. Her lips moved across his, tasting, teasing. Her tongue brushed the seal of his lips. Clint sat stiffly on the couch. Nerissa slid forward, pushing him back until she straddled his hips. She rested her slit against the hard ridge of his denim-clad cock and rocked gently. With a moan, he kissed her back. Yes! Triumph roared in her veins. She palmed his chest, his abs, before caressing a path back to his neck and shoulders. Tangling her fingers in his hair, she draped herself across him, chest to chest, groin to groin. His big hand curled on her buttocks, the other sliding between them to cup her breast. Nerissa rained kisses along his cheeks, his neck, his shoulders, unable to contain the tiny mewls of need escaping her throat. She rose off him long enough to unbutton and unzip his jeans. Slowly she lowered the zipper, sucking in a breath as his cock rose through the opening, thick and long, veins roping the hard shaft, the mushroom-shaped head flushed purple. If she saw it a thousand times, a million times, she’d never grow tired of looking at him. She curled her fingers around his girth, her fingertips barely touching, and stroked. Clint’s eyes closed. His hips bucked off the couch, a groan of pleasure escaping when she reached between his legs to fondle his balls. She released him and tugged off his jeans, letting them fall to the floor beside the couch. Kneeling at his feet, looking up at his hard cock, she had him exactly where she wanted him. She crawled back over his body, pausing to press a tiny kiss at the tip of his shaft. A drop of fluid leaked out and she licked it off. “Nerissa.” His voice was a plea, a warning of just how tenuously he held on to his control.

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With a wicked grin, Nerissa leaned forward and wrapped her lips around the engorged head of his cock. “Mmm,” she hummed around his shaft. “God, Nerissa—I love you!” His hands clenched as she lowered her lips along his length. Nerissa smoothed her hands over his chest to lace her fingers with his. She pumped her head over his shaft, sucking him. With her tongue, she toyed with his slit then laved his entire length. Each moan and gasp of pleasure went straight to her pussy. So wet, she wanted to slide her fingers into her folds and finger-fuck herself to satisfaction. Instead, she kept her hands twined with his, a connection she refused to sunder. She sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing with the motion. Focusing her attention on Clint’s pleasure, she licked the sensitive place just beneath the head until his hips bucked yet again. “God, Nerissa! I’m going to come.” His husky voice, full of passion, rang in her ears. She wanted him to come, wanted to feel the hot jets of his seed shooting down her throat. Sucking harder still, she added a humming sound at the back of her throat. Faster and faster, imagining she was taking him deep into her pussy, she fucked him with her mouth. She brought him right to the edge, and then sent him over. A guttural groan filled the air. Nerissa untangled her fingers from his long enough to caress the delicate skin behind his balls. His hips bucked as he came, his cock jerking in her mouth as long streams of come slid down her throat. She held him, milking him for everything he had. Swallowing, she licked him clean before sitting back on her heels. Looking over his supine body, Nerissa grinned the self-satisfied smile of a woman who knew how to please her man. Even as she watched, his cock hardened again. “I don’t think I can get enough of you,” he growled. “Good, because I can’t give enough.” She leaned forward once again to trail her lips over his abs, dipping her tongue into his navel, tracing each ridge and valley. Her 31

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nipples were supersensitive where they brushed against his skin, her stomach acutely aware of his cock pulsing against it. And then she reached his lips. She tunneled her fingers into the silky strands of his dark hair. Her wet slit caressed his cock, teasing, tormenting her as much as him. Their tongues dueled and fought, and although Clint cupped her hips with his hands, he made no move to turn the tables on her. I love you. I love you. The words, a mantra in her mind, fueled every action. When she brushed her nipples across his, and when she lifted her hips to fit him into her opening, it was those words in her mind. And the unbelievable fact that she was finally with Clint again—her one love. Her only love. She sank onto him. His cock filled her inch by delicious inch until she sat flush on his hips, their bodies tight together. He touched her so deeply. Nerissa knew, sitting there, gazing at the pleasure etched into Clint’s features, that it was more than physical. A hell of a lot more. She rocked slowly with the need to savor every moment, every gasp, every sigh. Reaching up, Clint cupped her breasts. His big hands engulfed her flesh, his touch a mixture of desire and reverence. With his fingers, he tugged on her nipples and her back arched, lips open in a wordless cry of pleasure. One hand trailed over her ribs, down to her nether lips to find the slick bud of her clit. He stroked and a shudder raced through her body from head to toe. She rocked harder, faster until her world narrowed down to the slide of his cock within her body and his hands upon her flesh. Clint swallowed hard with the effort it took not to explode into the hot, wet glove of her pussy. When she’d sheathed him in her tight channel, he damned himself for ever doubting her. This was the Nerissa he loved, all passion and sensuality. He thrust into her welcoming heat, his fingers stroking her clit. She cried out, her pussy clamping down on his cock. He thrust harder, faster with the need to watch her come. And then she was there. With a cry, her pussy contracted 32

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around his shaft, milking him. Head thrown back, breasts thrust out. Clint drank in the sight. And then she leaned forward, panting as she came back down. Still he thrust. Again and again, wanting to brand her body, mark it as his for all time. No one else would make her scream with release. No one else would bring her to the heights he did. “Clint!” she gasped. The slap of their bodies echoed in the room, and he smelled the perfume of their lovemaking. Ragged breaths and husky sighs filled the silence. His balls drew tight against his body, his own release perilously close. The base of his spine tingled, and then with a shout he spilled himself into her. Nerissa screamed his name as she came once more, and her release only made his all the sweeter. At last she slumped against his chest, and he loosely wrapped his arm around her. Clint drew air into his parched lungs. A sheen of sweat covered his skin and all he wanted to do was scoop her up in his arms and carry her into the bedroom where he could properly make love to her. But that would have to wait until later, when the strength returned to his limbs. Nerissa stirred first, sitting up and smiling at him with a lazy grin. “Can we do that again?” she asked. A chuckle bubbled from his throat. “Yeah,” he said, his voice husky with passion. “I think we can.” He found the strength to gently push Nerissa away from him. He swung his legs over the edge of the couch and stood, then scooped her into his arms. She squealed as he carried her into the bedroom and placed her on the rumpled covers. She lounged back, arms stretched over her head in invitation, and he lowered himself to the mattress beside her. Skimming his fingers over her flesh, he stroked her wet labia. “So in a day you fly out to Bangladesh?” Nerissa nodded. “Unless you can make me a better offer.” She grinned and parted her legs wider. His fingers slid into her slick folds and he caressed her clit. Her breathing hitched and the way she undulated her hips told him he was driving her crazy. Lifting her hips, 33

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she encouraged his fingers to explore deeper and lower. He slid two fingers into her hot, tight channel. “How about nights filled with passion and a luxurious two-bedroom house on the edge of town?” He thrust his fingers into her, rotating his palm against her clit. “Do we have to talk about this right now?” Nerissa reached for his cock and circled her fingers around his hard shaft. She stroked him, rubbing her thumb over the drop of fluid that formed on the head. “I’d rather be on the edge of something else.” “Mmm. Maybe I can make you forget all about Bangladesh.” A rakish smile covered his lips as he slid down and nestled his body between her legs. She parted her thighs wider to accommodate his shoulders and he cupped her ass, bringing her dripping pussy to his mouth. He drew his tongue along the length of her slit, delving deep to swirl tiny circles around her clit. God, he wanted to eat her up and listen to her scream out his name as she came. He wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked. Beneath his mouth, her hips bucked. Her cream coated his lips and chin, and he lapped at her salty-sweet taste. Like the finest honey, but hers, all hers. And it was he who filled her pussy with cream. His dick throbbed, steel-hard against the sheets. The willpower it took not to crawl over her body and bury himself deep inside hammered in his veins. But this time it was all for her, to show her what she meant to him. He speared his tongue into her tight channel, feeling her slick walls convulse around him. Just when he didn’t know if he could take much more, she reached down and cupped the back of his head to hold him in place. Nerissa’s fingers clenched against his scalp. Her moans reached a crescendo as her orgasm ripped through her body. She screamed her pleasure, her cries echoing in the room, and Clint pulled back. Now, this time would be for both of them.

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Grabbing her hips, he rolled over and pulled her on top of him. “If you want to be on the edge of something, then ride it.” He lifted his hands above his head. “I’m all yours.” Nerissa trailed her gaze over the expanse of rock-hard chest, up to eyes darkened by passion. His submission thrilled her. She braced her hands on his shoulders then lowered herself over his cock. Head thrown back, she sheathed him inside her. Inch by inch until their bodies were flush. Clint reached between them and stroked her clit. Her muscles contracted around him and slowly she began to move. She rocked gently, wanting to savor the feel of his cock filling her. His other hand cupped her breast, kneading gently. Slow, oh how she wanted to take this one slow. Love and lust mingled in her veins and demanded she find her release hard and fast. But not yet, she wasn’t ready to let go of control so easily. Drawing her fingers over his chest, she rubbed his hard nipples then leaned forward and licked him. “Mmm, you taste good.” Her body tightened around his, her breath coming in tiny pants. Grabbing her hips, Clint held her, using the strength in his thighs to change the angle so he hit a place high and deep inside her. Nerissa forced herself to open her eyes and look at him. To see the man she invited into her body and her heart. He was hers, and she was his, and the knowledge made their coming together all the more sweet. A sheen of sweat covered Clint’s skin and the sunlight filtering through the window framed them. Faster, and her world reduced to the slide of his cock inside her body. She cried out again as her body convulsed around him. Harder and faster and another orgasm hit her, and she screamed her release to the world. Moments later, Clint joined her. They lay slumped together on the bed, bodies still joined. Nerissa pressed her ear against Clint’s chest and listened to his pounding heart. Her own echoed the fast rhythm and she lacked the energy to move. Clint curled his hands around her waist and held her in place.

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“So you’ll be in Bangladesh for six months?” Clint asked. “Mmm,” Nerissa murmured. “That’s not too long. And it’s not like I’ll be out of communication. There’re phones and emails.” Turning her head, she pressed her lips to the valley between his pecs. “If you think I’m going to settle for a long-distance relationship, you’re fooling yourself.” His hands tightened. Nerissa rolled to the side and propped herself up on an elbow, resting her head in her hand. With her free hand, she traced lazy designs on his chest. “I don’t want to go, but I have to. I’ve already accepted the assignment. But I’m free afterward.” Now she was worried. She held her breath, waiting. “I’m not going to let you go that easy, darlin’.” Clint turned on his side to face her. “I can paint anywhere, and Bangladesh sounds just as good as anywhere. I even have a passport.” He reached for her, rolling her beneath me. “You may have asked for twentyfour hours, but I want the rest of our lives.” “Good,” Nerissa said, wiggling her hips against his hard cock. “And I’m going to hold you to that.” Clint sealed their bargain with a kiss.

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Epilogue

Two weeks later Flames crackled outside as night insects sang to the gathering dusk. Waves rolled against the beach, the setting sun painting the sky above the Bay of Bengal. Sitting on a log by the fire, Nerissa stretched out her toes and curled them into the soft sand. In the fire, photos burned, a concession to Clint’s need to keep his secret safe. She’d kept one photo, with his permission. Clint, in his equine form, standing on a ridge. The wind blew his mane and tail behind him, and he looked as wild and untamed as the land around him. The raw power inherent in his muscled body, the majesty in his pose, it captured Clint perfectly. The gathering dusk only added mystery to the photo, the sleek black stallion against the coming night. Just thinking about the picture sent shivers down her spine. She stared at the curling edges of the photographs that burned amid logs and kindling. The negatives were already gone, shredded beyond recognition, and now the last remnants of the photos turned to ashes. She looked across the fire at Clint. He stood there shirtless, with his swim trunks low on his hips. “We have a private cabin for a reason. Just you and me until we head back into the interior at the end of the week. There’s no one around. I know you want to run on the beach.” Clint looked longingly at the place where the surf met the sand. “Go,” she said. “I’ll be waiting. I’ll watch the fire.” He strode over to her. “I love you, Mrs. Song Shale.” He grinned, his words conjuring images of the very quick trip to Las Vegas they’d taken before departing for Bangladesh.

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“And I love you, Mr. Song Shale. Now I know you want to run. So go. Run. I’ll be watching.” She shooed him away with her hand. “I know,” he said, and his cocky grin warmed her heart. Kissing her before stepping away, he kicked off his sandals and trunks. Naked, he bolted away from her, his form shifting and changing. He shook his head and snorted at the waves lapping playfully at his hooves. Spray filled the air and for a moment, Nerissa thought maybe he’d come back and kneel, inviting her on his back… She grinned as he kept running. Not tonight, but maybe tomorrow. As she watched Clint race down the water’s edge, she decided she’d insist on it. The fire crackled and popped, but she paid it no mind. Instead, she watched the man she loved gallop up and down the beach, black mane and tail streaming behind him. If only I had my camera, she thought, then laughed as Clint reared in the surf and pawed the air before turning to look at her. She could have sworn he knew exactly what she was thinking.

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About the Author Mary Winter began writing when she was 16, using it as an excuse to skip gym class. She currently lives in Iowa with her pets and dreams of writing full-time. Her advice to anyone is: “Persistence pays off. Don’t ever give up on your dreams!”

Mary welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

Also by Mary Winter Ellora’s Cavemen: Dreams of the Oasis III anthology Ghost Redeemed Ghost Touch Once Upon a Prince anthology Pleasure Quest anthology Prodigal Son Snowbound Water Lust

Discover for yourself why readers can’t get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora’s Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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