Free New Moon by REBECCA YORK

beyond. It was dark and scary inside. And it was impossible to see more than a few inches into the darkness. Probably there were cougars inside. Or bears. Or maybe even a fire-breathing dragon.
    She felt Logan shiver, then lower his lips to her ear. "Are you doing that?"
    "Yes," she murmured.
    One of the warriors came close to the cave, and they both stopped breathing. Rinna could see the man staring into the darkness of the crevice.
    Did he have a flashlight? They were very rare because it took some psychic ability to operate them. But this man might have been trained to do it.
    She tensed, waiting for a beam to strike a shoulder or a leg. But apparently the man lacked that skill, and with the terrifying images she had called up, it seemed that he didn't want to take a chance on creeping into a tight space where danger might lurk.
    After several moments, he moved off, and Rinna let the air trickle out of her lungs.
    She would have pulled away from Logan, but he held her fast.
    "I think they're gone," she whispered, reaching backward to press her hand against his shoulder. "We should get out of here."
    "Not yet."
    She couldn't see him, but alarm sizzled through her as she felt him turn her in his arms.
    "I dreamed of kissing you," he said, "Was it real?"
    "How could it be real if it was a dream?"
    "But do you remember it?" he pressed.
    She gulped. Lying was never easy for her. But there was no way she could tell him the truth.
    "No," she whispered. She remembered sharing a kiss with him. Not just a kiss. He had touched her, stroked her body and she remembered waking—out of breath and wanting him. Then she'd gone right to him and tended his wounds.
    They had been in an opulent bedroom. Now they were outside, wedged together in a crevice in the rock.
    Before she could drag in a breath and let it out, he lowered his head so that his lips skimmed hers, brushing back and forth, and she felt a thrill along her nerve endings. Like in the dream.
    She didn't want it to be true. She wanted to remain aloof from him. She thought of standing very still and simply letting him kiss her as though she were a statue. If she didn't respond, he would get the message.
    They were both naked, and she felt a dart of fear when his penis stirred against her middle.
    "I won't hurt you," he murmured. "I only want to find out if the dream was my imagination."
    Suddenly she knew she'd trapped herself. If she'd told him the truth, perhaps he would turn her loose now. Or would confession only have made it worse?
    He rubbed his mouth against hers again, creating a kind of heated friction. When she made a small sound, he pressed more firmly, moving his lips against hers as though he were speaking to her in a language only the two of them could understand. When she accepted that much from him, he took the intimacy to another level, his tongue playing along the line where she had her mouth sealed closed.
    She had never realized there were so many subtle nuances to a kiss. And maybe she wasn't as opposed as she thought because she allowed the tip of his tongue to work its way to the inside edge of her lips, teasing and persuading.
    He was gentle yet convincing. When he lightly stroked the sensitive inner surface of her mouth, then slowly swept his tongue along the line of her teeth, it felt good, which was as alarming as his naked body pressed to hers. Something about this man drew her. Some inner voice urged her to let down her guard with him. Only him.
    Yet the thought of being at the mercy of any man tightened her chest.
    She made a small sound, and he took advantage of that opening, deepening the contact, finding her tongue with his, delicately stroking the side.
    He seemed to have turned kissing into an art form that a man and woman could appreciate together.
    His tongue withdrew, and he used only his lips again, sipping from her as though her mouth tasted better to him than fine wine.
    She was dizzy, swaying against him, his crisp chest hair making her