Free Wyoming Wildfire by Leigh Greenwood Page A

her vigorous protests, he led her back in the direction she had been taking at a full gallop only minutes before. Scalding words of denunciation died in her throat when she found herself at the rim of a hidden canyon eight feet deep and close to twenty feet across. Had Burch been a little farther behind, she would have killed her horse and probably herself as well. Shock held her motionless.
    “Tell me how you planned to cross that.”
    She didn’t answer him; she couldn’t. The full realization of what had almost happened hit her with numbing force and she slumped in the saddle, barely able to hold on to the reins.
    “You didn’t know it was there, did you?”
    Sibyl managed to shake her head even though her whole body trembled uncontrollably. For an awful moment, she though she was going to be sick.
    “It’s all right,” Burch reassured her in a changed voice, “it’s over.” He dismounted and gently helped her down.
    “I didn’t see it,” she stammered.
    “Don’t think about it any more,” he said, putting his arm around her and inviting her to lean on him.
    “I could have been killed.” The shock was so great that she clung blindly to him, seeking the comfort of his strength.
    Striving to restrain urges almost too strong to be controlled, Burch held her tightly, electrified by the feeling of her body against his. He had dreamt of her in his arms but was unprepared for the storm of desire it awoke in his breast. It was incredibly wonderful to hold her close, but the fire building in his loins was agony; desire, red-hot and hungry, coursed through every vein until he felt as unsteady as she. Her grip on him tightened until he could restrain himself no longer, and his lips descended upon hers in a crushing, devastating embrace.
    Sibyl returned his kisses with ardor, clinging even more tightly to his body for the feeling of security it offered, yet drinking in the heady feeling of his burning lips on hers, feeling dazed by the sweetness of being desired by this man. She had never imagined it would be pleasant to be in the arms of a man, and the sheer magnitude of its wonderfulness made her heedless of restraint. She wanted him to kiss her until she was breathless.
    Despite the magical sensations that overwhelmed her, Sibyl was soon unmistakably aware of Burch’s hot, enflamed body against hers, calling forth an answering heat from her own quiescent, unnurtured passion. It was only gradually that she realized that her own body was responding of its own will. Her treacherous body wanted Burch’s body as much as her lips desired his kisses. How could she possibly protect herself from herself?
    “My God,” moaned Burch, “how good you feel in my arms.” His hands roamed over her body, overjoyed to realize that the reality of her outstripped his anticipation. His lips left trails of hot desire across her flesh that caused her to flush with pleasure and panic. “I want you,” he whispered, pressing her hips against his swelling groin. “My God, how I want you.”
    Sibyl was conscious of a yearning, an escalating need to be swallowed up by the mesmerizing pleasure spreading through her limbs with lightning speed. Desire strained against reason, leaping with frantic energy to meet the fiery passion of the vigorous man nearly crushing her in his embrace. It gloried in the feeling of his lips on hers and in the hungry tongue that fed on the nectar of her mouth; it wrapped her in a euphoria she hoped would never end. Yet if it did not end soon, she would be lost.
    “Stop,” she managed to say, her ingrained fears and doubts shrieking insanely inside her head, but still she clung to him, unable to cast aside the feeling of indescribable pleasure his embraces gave her.
    “Please let me go,” she begged, but Burch, enveloped in his own red haze of desire, didn’t hear her plea. He was beyond any awareness other than his own maddening needs, and he slowly lowered her to the ground. Sibyl felt herself slipping