Free The Devil and Ms. Moody by Suzanne Forster Page A

collision.
    Edwina’s surprise surfaced in a hiccup of laughter. Of all the fatal diseases and black curses she’d wished on him that morning, she’d never thought of having him slip on a bag and land on his fanny. She walked over and gazed down at him, knowing she should ask him if he was hurt. Unfortunately a different impulse came over her.
    “How does it feel, Great White Hunter?” she said, placing a foot on his chest and dangling the sacrificial fish over his nose. She was pressing her luck, and she knew it. Whatever state of grace she might have enjoyed up to that point was rapidly ending. Even the Fates would have blanched at the wicked glint in Diablo’s eyes.
    “How does it feel?” he said. “You tell me.”
    He yanked her foot ferociously, and hop though she might, Edwina couldn’t keep her balance. The fish landed in the river behind her, and she landed on Diablo.
    Without divine intervention, she didn’t stand a chance against him. He flipped her on her side, facing away from him, and pinned her arms behind her back before she could even think about struggling. “You need some lessons on being a Warlord’s woman,” he said, his breath hot near her ear.
    Locking her up against his body with an arm around her midriff, he elaborated. “Lesson number one: Don’t ever laugh at your man, Princess.”
    “You deserved it. You let me think that disgusting thing was a raccoon ...”
    His laughter was ironic. “What’s this?” he said. “Edwina Moody, protector of all living things, doesn’t love a fish?”
    “It’s not the same,” she said. “Fish are ... fish.”
    He brought her around to face him, green eyes sparkling as he recaptured her hands behind her back. “Could the trout help it he didn’t have big brown eyes like a raccoon?”
    “Now you’re championing fish? You, who just killed one?”
    They stared at each other for a long moment, both smelling pungently of fish oils and musky heat, and then they began to laugh. Softly at first, and reluctantly on Edwina’s part.
    “Lesson number two, Princess,” he said, his voice shimmering with ardent undertones. “The clothes come off.”
    “What do you mean?”
    He gripped her wrists tighter when she tried to pull free. “A swim in the river. We both smell pretty ripe.”
    Edwina could feel every inch of his “ripe” body against hers, and the smell of fish was the last thing that concerned her. She knew unquestionably that if she took off her clothes and went into the river with him, it would escalate into the most abandoned interlude she’d ever had.
    She knew it because she’d felt it beginning from the first time he’d trapped her in his hot green gaze. She’d felt it all, the rising tide of awareness between them, the swift and paralyzing intimacy, the building toward something inevitable. She couldn’t even ride behind him on the bike without fantasizing what it would be like to make love with him. How would she ever survive the river—naked?
    “I’ll make do with a sponge bath.” She remembered her shoulder and spot-checked it. “I don’t want to mess up the tattoo.”
    “That tattoo,” he said, his voice grating softly, “is my mark.” Rolling her onto her back, he pinned her arms above her head and raked swiftly over her body with his eyes. Edwina nearly had heart failure as she imagined his intentions. The ground was rock hard against her shoulder blades, and she could feel the weight of the leg he’d dropped over hers, trapping her.
    He studied her for another long moment before he released her. His eyes continued their indolent scrutiny, brushing over her with an intimacy that felt as physical as a stolen kiss. He scanned her breasts, lingering as her breathing quickened. And then he caught her lips in his gaze.
    If Edwina had been standing, she would have buckled at the knees. There was a quality of rough seduction in his gaze that left her utterly weak. Lethargy crept into her muscles, saturating her with