Ramona and the Renegade. Marie Ferrarella
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“Oops,” she murmured. “Don’t make them like they used to, do they?” Drawing herself up to her full height, she turned to her left a bit too quickly and found herself wavering unsteadily on her feet.
The sudden action had intensified her dizziness. “I think the wind is pushing the room around,” she told Joe just before she tilted too far to the right.
Jumping to his feet quickly, Joe managed to grab her before Mona could fall over. “Guess that must be it,” he agreed.
Her eyes narrowed as she forgot what had brought her to her feet to begin with.
“What are you doing over here? You were just over there.” She pointed to his chair as if it was located on the other side of town.
“Wind blew me over here, too.” He figured she’d accept that, thinking that if the wind was responsible for moving the room around, it could just as easily have moved him, too.
He should have known better.
Grabbing the front of his shirt with her hands in an effort to really steady herself—or the room—Mona stared up into his face rather intently. “Know what I think?” she asked him.
The woman was entirely too close to him, Joe thought. Her sweet breath mingled with the distinct scent of the whiskey she’d consumed, creating a very odd combination that reeled him in. He was acutely aware of every single supple inch of her. As well as his own body. Struggling, he did his best to appear indifferent.
He wasn’t, but in her present state, he hoped Mona wouldn’t notice. If she pressed up against him, all bets were off.
“What?” he finally asked her.
She was really trying to focus and not doing an overly good job of it. “I think that you’re trying to take advantage of me, Joe.”
That was when she moved in closer to him, as if that could somehow help her read him better. She pressed all her curves against the hard contours of his body and in turn threatened to create Joe’s own personal meltdown.
“Are you trying to take advantage of me?” Mona asked.
He did his best to try to make her turn toward the rear of the cabin. Hands ever so lightly on her shoulders, he maneuvered her toward it. “Right now, I think you should lie down. There’s a bed in the other room.”
“Ah-ha! I was right. I knew it,” Mona declared triumphantly, swinging around so that she could grasp hold of his shirtfront again, crumpling it beneath her fingers. “You are trying to take advantage of me. Oh, Joe—”
Every fiber of his being wanted to give in, but he continued to fight it. “No, I’m—”
The rest of his adamant protest went unspoken. He found it impossible to speak when Mona’s lips were suddenly and firmly pressed against his.
She was quick, he’d give her that.
She was also damn intoxicating, far more potent than an old, half-empty bottle of aged whiskey, Joe caught himself thinking—while he could still think.
But that ability quickly faded as the taste of Mona’s lips steadily got to him, weakening his resolve. Making him want Mona with a fierceness that jarred him.
The will to push her away, to do the right thing, was not nearly as strong as it should have been. As strong as it had been only moments ago.
His lips worked over hers, deepening the kiss.
He tasted her moan and felt the blood surge through his veins as if it had been set on fire.
Maybe it had been.
He needed to put a stop to this.
In a moment. Just one more moment.
He promised himself that he would do the right thing in a moment. Right now, just for this erotic half a heartbeat, he wanted to enjoy this completely unexpected turn of events.
Wanted to enjoy the feel of her warm body pressed so urgently against his.
Wanted to savor the taste of her mouth as it drained his soul away. With the least bit of encouragement, he would have fallen to his knees, silently begging her for more.
But that wasn’t going to happen for a whole host of reasons, not the least of which was pride.
His.
So, realizing that this was a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence, like Halley’s Comet, he took his time ending it.
Took full enjoyment of the moment—and her.
The very act, even as it was occurring, left him vulnerable, unmasking the secret that he had tried to keep, even from himself. That he wanted this woman with the laughing eyes and the sinful mouth. Had always wanted her and would, most likely, go to his grave wanting her.
In silence.
Because a man had his pride and any admission as to the depth and breadth of his feelings—his unrequited feelings—for Mona would expose him and leave him open to ridicule and pity, neither one of which he could endure.
With a jolt, Joe realized that he was very close to the edge of the vortex. To the point of no return. Any second now, it would suck him in, rendering him a prisoner of this feeling and leaving him incapable of cutting off this kiss.
Incapable of walking away.
He already didn’t want to. Fiercely.
If he didn’t back away in a moment, there would be no backing away. Because he was only a man, only flesh and blood, and his flesh and blood craved hers.
Now! Stop it now! Before you can’t!
Inflamed, Joe went on kissing her.
And she was kissing him back just as urgently.
Chapter Four
The sound of her own groan rudely nudged Mona into semiwakefulness.
An elephant tap-danced on her head. A heavy elephant that threatened to crush her skull any second now.
Mona curled up into herself, trying to hide from the creature, from the pain that his lumbering movements created.
But there was nowhere to hide.
As the haze lifted, scraping slowly along her awakening consciousness, she realized that she was squeezing her eyes shut. Squeezing them shut in self-defense.
Why?
Was she afraid of seeing something? Someone?
Very cautiously, Mona pried her eyelids open. The moment she did, she instantly shut them again.
The sunlight hurt her head.
Sunlight?
Her eyes popped open and she jackknifed up into a sitting position. The pain doubled but she valiantly struggled to ignore it as urgent messages telegraphed themselves to her throbbing brain.
The incessant, heavy rain had stopped. As had the moaning wind. The world was still.
She was on a striped, bare mattress that smelled as if it had been used every day for the past two centuries, all without being cleaned.
She’d gotten drunk, she suddenly recalled.
Drunk with Joe. Joe! Omigod, Joe!
Shock raced through her aching mind as bits and pieces of last night came back to her, jumbled and completely out of order. The only thing she specifically remembered was throwing herself at him.
Hard.
And then nothing.
She covered her mouth in growing agitation. She couldn’t remember what happened after she’d hermetically sealed her mouth to his.
Had he—
Had they—
“Oh, God,” Mona groaned