Free Her Outlaw by Geralyn Dawson

hands, tipped her head back, and deepened the kiss. Emma’s world tilted. He was good at this. Very good. It had been so long since she’d allowed a man to reach past her defenses. A long time since she’d wanted one there.
    Need rose within her, a hollow, grinding ache she felt through to the very core of her body. Emma lifted her hands, ran them across the breadth of his shoulders, then upward. She buried her fingers in his hair and responded to the wild, willing yearning he’d created within her by pouring all the hot, hungry need into her kiss.
    His hands released her face, skimmed downward, settled at her waist, his fingers tightening in a viselike grip. He broke the kiss, drew his head away. His breathing was heavy as his gaze locked with hers.
    She’d surprised him, all right. The admiration in those heated silver eyes boring into her soul told her so.
    He spoke in a low, slow rumble. “First left, second right, third left will save you.”
    Save her? “What do you mean?”
    “A shortcut out of the maze.”
    Oh. Emma’s stomach sank. Had she misread the signs? Oh no. Had she just made a fool of herself? “You’re sending me away?”
    She tried to move away from him, but his hands held her captive. “Only if you wish to be saved. I’m not a gentleman, Emma Tate, and you tempt me more than I had anticipated. If you meet me in the center of the maze, be prepared for the consequences.”
    She swallowed hard. “Consequences?”
    “I’ll not stop with a kiss.”
    His declaration sent a bolt of desire pulsing through her. She spoke in order to give herself time to think. “So you’re a rogue with a conscience?”
    His mouth tilted in a wry smile. “I’m just a man.”
    And she was just a woman, a woman with needs that hadn’t been attended to for so long. Dair MacRae was the most exciting man she’d ever met and right now, at this moment in time, Emma wanted exciting. She wanted dashing and daring and dangerous. She wanted…him.
    With that acknowledgment, any lingering insecurity disappeared. Self-confidence brought a calming sense of peace that cleared the way for her to do nothing more than feel. She was the Emma of old. Brave, courageous, and bold.
    She lifted her chin, met his simmering stare with a seductive one of her own and asked, “And to the temple, MacRae? What’s the fastest path to the temple?”
    His eyes went to black, and his voice sounded raspy as he said, “First right. Second right. Third right. Go, woman. Fast.”
    She stood, an animal sensing danger, feeling more alive than she’d felt in years. At the entrance to the alcove, she tossed him a saucy look over her shoulder, then picked up her skirts and turned right.
    She reached the replica temple in little more than a minute. Her blood was humming, her heart was singing, and she wanted to shout out with joie de vivre. Instead, she settled for wrapping her arms around herself and spinning around.
    “My God, you’re…”
    “…alive,” she breathed.
    He caught her with a growl and yanked her against him, then devoured her with his kiss. His mouth was ravenous, and she sensed wildness in him, an elemental savagery barely controlled.
    And Emma gloried in it. She felt womanly and desirable and…powerful. His clever fingers worked the buttons down her back and her collar loosened. When he tore his mouth from hers and nipped his way down her neck, she laughed with sheer joy.
    Dair captured her lips once again, his hands fisting in her hair, his tongue plunging into her mouth, plundering even as he propelled her backwards until she came up against one of the temple columns. His hands streaked over her, ruthlessly exploring, mercilessly possessing.
    He pressed his body against her, and he was as hard as the marble column at her back. She felt soft and malleable like a goose-feather pillow. The pulsing ache within her grew. She wanted to beg him. It had been so long.
    He drew back. His gaze was diamond hard and lava hot. “Last