Free Blackwolf's Redemption by Sandra Marton

her vision was blurry. “It’s not okay for you to accuse me of—of such awful things. I am not—”
    “I said, okay. You’re not.”
    “Not what?” she said, her voice shaking. “Not here? Not standing in a room that doesn’t exist, with a man who doesn’t ex—”
    “I exist,” he said roughly, and despite all the promises he’d made himself and her, he took her into his arms and raised her face to his. “I exist, Sienna,” he said softly. “You know it and so do I.”
    Her eyes met his. They glittered with unshed tears but, he was certain, with something else, too.
    Awareness.
    Of him.
    Of herself.
    Of the electricity between them.
    Jesse raised his hand and stroked an errant curl back from her temple. She turned her head like a cat moving deeper into what could easily become a caress.
    All he had to do was bend his head and kiss her. One kiss and she’d melt into his arms.
    Make love to me, Jesse, she would whisper, and this time, she’d mean it. No games. No last-minute recriminations. No backing away from what they both wanted.
    “Jesse?”
    Her eyes were wide and luminous. Her lips were parted in anticipation. He thought of that uniform, hanging in his dressing room. Of a time, an eternity ago, when he had been an officer and a gentleman.
    And took a step back.
    “Take the lantern,” he said gruffly. She didn’t move; he grabbed it and shoved it at her. “Go on, take it. There are extra blankets in the chest at the foot of the bed. Pile them on. You’ll need them.”
    “But where will you sleep?”
    He wouldn’t. Not with her just down the hall.
    “I’ll bunk in the living room. By the fireplace.”
    “Yes, but—”
    “Damn it,” he growled, “must you fight me on everything?”
    That don’t-screw-with-me look was back on her face. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss it away. Instead, he folded his arms, glared at her until she muttered a very unladylike word, turned her back and marched off. At the last minute, just before the dark swallowed her up, he called her name.
    “Sienna.” She stopped, but she didn’t turn around. “Lock your door,” he said, his voice as rough as sandpaper. “And keep it locked.”
    Then he looked away from her, tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and stared blindly out the window into the deep black night that had finally embraced the house.

CHAPTER SIX
    W AS he watching her as she went down the dark hall?
    Sienna wanted to run but instinct warned her against it.
    You didn’t run from a predator. You stood up tall and showed no fear, and that was important here. Jesse had deliberately tried to scare her, she was sure of it.
    But he couldn’t.
    She wasn’t afraid of him. Or of what had just happened between them. The excitement of his hands on her. The way he’d looked at her. The wild storm raging outside, the even wilder storm just waiting to break free inside….
    By the time she was halfway to the bedroom, her heart was doing its best to leap from her chest. Only another few feet, she told herself; she was almost there. All she had to do was keep up the pose. Head high, shoulders back, steps steady. Now to open the door. Good. Step through it. Fine.
    “Oh, God,” she whispered, and she slammed the door, locked it with trembling fingers, fell back against the cool wood and took a long, ragged breath.
    How dare this man do this to her? What gave him the right to try to frighten her to death?
    Lock your door. What was she supposed to be? His slave?And for what? Did he honestly think he’d needed to tell her to safeguard herself against him after that take-no-prisoners kiss?
    A man who kissed a woman as Jesse had kissed her was dangerous.
    And a woman who responded to such a kiss was in deep trouble.
    Sienna swallowed dryly.
    No. She had not responded. She was—she was in pieces, emotionally. He knew it. He’d taken advantage of her but it would not happen again.
    Really? How many times can you kiss him back and still tell