Free Darling Enemy by Diana Palmer

thing’s for certain,” he breathed roughly as his arms tightened. “No one’s going to interrupt us right now. I ache like a boy for you!”
    His mouth came down on hers roughly, forcing her lips apart. She gasped, frightened at his passion. Her arms strained against him, but he was far too strong to be moved, and far too hungry. She couldn’t tear her mouth away, she couldn’t free herself.
    Suddenly, it was like that other night, the night when she was fourteen, and one of her aunt’s lovers had tried to seduce her. She could still feel the thick, wet lips on hers, the roughness of his hands touching her where none of her boyfriends had dared to touch, hurting her. She’d been helpless then, too, terrified and disgusted and sick. And if her aunt hadn’t suddenly come home, if he hadn’t heard her key in the lock, it might have been worse than it was. But he had heard, and had let Teddi go, daring her to tell her aunt. She’d groped her way to her room, her clothes torn, her body bruised and hurt, and cried herself to sleep. Hating him. Hating all men, for the animals they became when they were woman-hungry.
    And now it was that night all over again, and he was hurting her, trying to force her....
    The wild little scream and the violent crying got through to King. He released her, drawing back quickly to look down into her pale, frightened face.
    “Teddi?” he murmured huskily.
    She was trembling from head to toe, huge tears rolling silently down her cheeks, her mouth trembling from the sobs that shook the rest of her.
    King’s dark face contorted. One big hand brushed gently at the tears, then at her tousled hair, soothing, comforting.
    “It’s all right,” he said softly, in a voice far too tender to be King’s. “It’s all right, honey, it’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you. I should have known, but you wouldn’t tell me...here, now, stop crying.”
    She was as stiff as a rod while he wiped the tears away, and there was a new wariness in her big brown eyes as they met his. “I’m...I’m not that kind...of woman,” she whispered brokenly. “You...treated me like a tramp....”
    He caught his breath, his face hardening even as she watched. “I know.”
    She pushed at his chest. “Please...let me go.”
    He hesitated for a moment, his eyes wavering. But then he loosened his tight grip and she moved back against the door, like a small animal at bay, feeling all over again the insolence of his mouth, his tongue, the rough contempt of his hands on her body, burning even through the fabric.
    He pulled a cigarette from his pocket and lit it.
    She licked her suddenly dry lips. “May...may I have one, please?” she asked.
    He looked surprised. “You don’t smoke.”
    “You don’t carry a bottle of liquor around with you,” she said simply, trying to smile, but not succeeding.
    Frowning, he pulled out a second cigarette and lit it for her. She took it without making contact with his hard fingers and dragged on it, almost choking herself before she got the hang of it.
    He watched her intently, his eyes running from her untidy hair, over her pale cheeks to her mouth and lower, to her rumpled blouse.
    “Why didn’t you tell me in the beginning that you were a virgin?” he asked quietly, studying her.
    “Because I had no idea you were going to make a pass at me,” she said weakly. “And you wouldn’t have believed me if I’d told you.”
    He sighed. “After the way you looked on the lakeshore, I just might have.” He studied her flushed cheeks. “Did I hurt you?”
    The flush got worse. She shook her head jerkily. “Please, can we go back to Gray Stag now?”
    “Teddi...” He moved closer, and she backed against the door, her eyes impossibly wide, her body rigid in helpless reaction.
    He stopped short and something like a shadow passed over his face before he turned back to the steering wheel and started the car. He glanced at her as he pulled back into the road, saw her slight