Free Captive of Fate by Lindsay McKenna

against him, and she was burningly aware of his straining body. His tongue probed her mouth, tasting the inner recesses, creating a vortex of fiery desire that uncoiled from the center of her body. His hands slid upward, cupping her face now, dragging her inexorably into the passion of the moment. She longed to continue this new, exciting experience. But slowly, reluctantly, he removed his mouth from her parted, wet lips. She could only stare childlike up into his undisguised features, into eyes flaring with a silver glint of desire for her alone. A shadow seemed to darken his gaze for an instant, and she felt a subtle change in the charged atmosphere surrounding them. Was it worry? Disappointment? Alanna couldn’t be sure as she pulled herself from his embrace, feeling desire and rejection within the same moment.
    But it was the rejection that finally won out. Alanna suddenly felt unsure of herself, and she took a few steps away from him, her fingertips touching her sensitized lips.
    “Alanna?”
    “Nothing,” she whispered painfully. “We’d better get going,” she said, feeling as if she were babbling like a child.
    “Wait—”
    She avoided his outstretched fingers, twisting away. “No,” she cried.
    “Dammit, don’t run away from me. Come here.” He put a restraining hand on her arm and she halted. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.
    She raised her hand, making a small gesture of irritation. “Nothing. Everything,” she confessed.
    “Look at me,” he commanded. He cupped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. “Why are you behaving like this?”
    She felt the hotness of tears gathering in her eyes. How could she tell him that she had never been kissed like that before? That Paul’s kisses were drab in comparison? How could she, a twenty-nine-year-old woman, have been unaware of so much of life? Of feeling? A pang of regret went through her, and she lowered her lashes against her cheekbones. “Y-you frighten me, Matt,” she whispered.
    She felt his hands sliding down over her shoulders, holding her arms. “In what way, Babe?”
    Oh, damn, she was going to cry! She pulled a hand free, dashing away the telltale dampness. Paul hated her tears, and he was a civilian. A military man would be sure to think them a sign of weakness.
    “Alanna,” he coaxed, “why are you scared? Tell me.”
    She looked up, the tears streaming unchecked now down her pale cheeks, the anguish she was feeling very evident in her green eyes. “I thought I knew who I was,” she mumbled, “and—and, I don’t. I mean, you seem to bring out a whole other side of me. Someone, something that was lost.”
    He gave her a gentle shake. “No, Babe, not lost, just hidden inside. Listen to me, Alanna. Your aunt and uncle started the process by giving you no outlet for your emotions, and then Paul reinforced your fear of expressing yourself. But don’t be frightened.” His words were spoken with a hushed urgency. “You’re a giving, loving woman with so much warmth and sensitivity. Let your emotions surface and remain a part of you.”
    She choked back a sob. “You’re a stranger I met two days ago. How can you be right? Paul never made me feel like this. My aunt, my uncle…why now?” she whispered hoarsely. “And why you? Oh, God, this is such a mess.” She freed herself of his grip, stumbling blindly back toward the tree to pick up the briefcase. Her heart ached with renewed anguish and pain. She touched her breast in reaction, doggedly walking along the trail, head bowed, bitter tears rolling down her face.
    Her mind assailed her with facts and logical explanations. But the pain was real and so was the excitement coursing through her body. If Matt Breckenridge could cause this much emotion to surface in two short days, what would happen if she stayed around him longer? Suddenly, without reason, Alanna wanted to escape. He brought back ugly, half-forgotten memories and old hurts. She remembered times she had hidden in the