Free Tender Taming by Heather Graham Page B

if he had felt her reaction to his touch. “You don’t have to rip me apart!” she muttered hastily. “I’m quite sore enough as it is!”
    Ignoring her viperish tongue, Eagle pulled her back into position. “Sit still. If I don’t work out the kinks for you, you’ll be in agony tomorrow. And I don’t want you slacking off around the chickee!”
    Whitney clamped her teeth together and stared out over the lake. He was right and she knew it. She would awake as stiff as a poker in the morning if she didn’t allow him to work the knots out of her sore muscles.
    But she had to maintain her guard with this man. For the first time in her life she was at a loss emotionally and physically. She was attracted to him like a moth to flame, yet unlike a moth, she had the sense to see the fire. He was an enigma to her, and yet his motives seemed as crystal clear as his eyes. He dared her, he mocked her. He had brought her into a world where he didn’t need to lift a finger to inflict punishment. And he wanted her.
    The why of it all troubled Whitney. Intuition told her that a man like Eagle would have strong passions and be proficient in the realm of sensual delights. She knew beyond a doubt that he would attract any number of the feminine sex—and that countless women would be more than happy to appease his appetites.
    So why her? Why go through this elaborate charade to win what he could obviously have for the taking? Especially when he must realize the effect his mere proximity had on her. There were moments of electricity between them that were so intense Whitney would gladly come to him with eager submission, except …
    That he was an Indian? An alien to her world? He frightened her as she had never been frightened before …
    And yet that wasn’t it, either. If she was really frightened of something, it wasn’t White Eagle. She had come to realize that he lived by a code of ethics that might put any city-bred man to shame.
    True admission of her real fears hovered in her consciousness, but they were too deep to surface. Too painful. They had nothing to do with morality. In her heart she knew that anything between them would be right because such a feeling could come only once in a lifetime.
    “Isn’t it?”
    Whitney blinked. She had grown drowsy and content while he worked his magic upon her body, and now she hadn’t heard a word he had said.
    Yawning, she perked her head back up. “Sorry—isn’t what?”
    “The lake beautiful—and very inviting.”
    “Yes, yes it is.”
    His hands left her shoulders, and she felt a sense of loss. “Join me?” The blue of his eyes was very bright against the bronze of his face in the twilight as he casually began opening the buttons on his shirt.
    “Join you?” Whitney echoed blankly.
    “For a swim. The water here is always cool and pleasant A swim makes you feel a hell of a lot better in this climate—much less like a salt lick for cattle.”
    His shirt was gone, cast over a nearby bush. “Scoot over,” he commanded, sliding down beside her on the rock to remove his boots. The heat of his body absorbed her as he nonchalantly pulled at the high zippers to free his feet and roll his socks. Like an unabashed child at a swimming hole, he stood again and Whitney heard the quick slide of his jeans zipper.
    “I don’t have a suit,” Whitney whispered, hastily averting her eyes to look at the water before her.
    “Neither do I.”
    A whoosh sounded through the air and she knew that his jeans and briefs had joined the shirt on the bush. He was a streak of perfect bronze as he whipped past her into the lake with a clear-cut, graceful dive.
    “Come on!” There was deviltry to his invitation.
    “I—I—”
    “I’m not going to attack you!” Eagle called cynically, rising with the cool water dripping from his form. The lake covered him to his waist and he stood facing her regally, his hands planted firmly on his hips. His hair was slicked back by the water, defining the