The kitchen door thumped, reminding her they had witnesses. Which, of course, was the whole point. Kevin drew back a few inches, not even far enough for her lips to cool. His eyes never left her mouth, and he kept his hand on her breast.

"Go away."

A gasp from Amy. The thud of the door. The sound of quickly retreating footsteps.

"I-I guess we showed them," Molly breathed against his mouth.

"I guess," he replied. And then he started kissing her all over again.

"Molly, I-Oh! Excuse me…"

Another quick thud of the door. More retreating footsteps, this time Lilly's.

Kevin muttered a dark curse. "We're getting out of here."

His voice held the same note of determination she'd heard in television interviews when he promised to dominate Green Bay. He released Molly's leg. His hand slipped more reluctantly from her breast.

She'd gotten herself right back where she wasn't supposed to be. "I really don't think-"

"No more thinking, Molly. I'm your husband, damn it, and it's time you start acting like a wife."

"Like a-What do you-"

But Kevin was fundamentally a man of action, and he'd done enough talking. Shackling her wrist, he hauled her to the back door.

She couldn't believe it. He was abducting her to have__

Forced Sex!

Oh, jeez… Fight back! Tell him no!

She knew from watching Oprah exactly what a woman was supposed to do in this situation. Scream at the top of her lungs, drop to the ground, and start kicking her assailant as hard as she could. Oprah's authority had explained that not only did this strategy have the advantage of surprise, but it used a woman's lower-body strength.

Scream. Drop. Kick.

"No," she whispered.

Kevin wasn't listening. He was dragging her across the garden and along the path that ran between the cottages and the lake. His long legs ate up the ground just as they did when he was trying to beat the final whistle. She would have stumbled if he didn't have such a tight grip on her.

Scream. Drop. Kick. And keep screaming. She remembered that part. You were supposed to keep screaming the whole time you were kicking.

The idea of dropping to the ground was interesting. Counterintuitive, but it did make sense. Women couldn't compete with men when it came to upper-body strength, but if the male assailant was standing and the woman dropped… A shower of hard, fast kicks to the soft parts… It definitely made sense.

"Uhm, Kevin…"

"Be quiet, or I swear to God I'll take you right here."

Yes, this was definitely Forced Sex.

Thank goodness.

Molly was so tired of thinking, so tired of fighting what she wanted so much. She knew it was a lousy reflection on her personal maturity that she needed to believe that the decision had been taken out of her hands. Even crummier to regard Kevin as a sexual predator. But at twenty-seven she wasn't yet the woman she wanted to be. The woman she intended to be. By the time she was thirty, she was absolutely certain she would have taken charge of her own sexuality. But for right now let him do it.

They were bump, bump, bumping down the path, passing Fairest Lord Jesus, passing Noah's Ark. Lilies of the Field lay right ahead.

She reminded herself of Kevin's shortcomings as a lover and vowed she wouldn't say a word to him about them either during or afterward. He wasn't a naturally selfish person. How was he supposed to know about foreplay when he'd had all those women servicing him? And a little slam, bam, thank you, ma'am would be a good thing. Those feverish nighttime images that had been robbing her of sleep would finally fade in the harsh glare of reality.

"Inside." He jerked open the cottage door and gave her a push.

She had no choice in the matter. No choice at all. He was bigger, stronger, apt to turn violent at any moment.

Even for an imaginative person that was a stretch.

She wished he hadn't let her go, but she liked the way he'd braced his hands on his hips. And his glare definitely looked threatening.

"You're not going to start giving me crap about this, are you?"

This posed a dilemma. If she said yes, he'd back off. If she said no, she'd be giving him permission to do something she knew she should resist.

Luckily, he wasn't done being angry. "Because I'm sick of it! We're not kids. We're two healthy adults, and we want each other."

Why didn't he stop talking and just drag her to the bedroom? If not by the hair, then at least by the arm.

"I'm packing all the birth control we're going to need…"

If only he'd said he was packing a gun and he'd turn it on her if she didn't lie there and let him do what he wanted. Except she wanted to do a lot more than just lie there.

"Now, I suggest you march your little butt right to the bedroom!"

The words were perfect, and she loved the way he jabbed his finger toward the door, but the expression in his eyes was beginning to look less like anger and more like caution. He was getting ready to back off.

She hurried to the bedroom. She couldn't make too much of this, couldn't let it be too important. She was a beautiful slave girl forced to give herself to the ruthless (but gorgeous) man who owned her. A slave girl who needed to get her clothes off before he beat her!

She pulled off her top so that she was standing before him in her bra and shorts, which weren't really shorts but gauzy harem pants. Harem pants he was going to rip from her body if she didn't take them off first.

She bent her head and kicked away her sandals. Then she pulled her shorts-harem pants-over her legs and cast them aside. When she looked up, she saw her owner standing in the bedroom door, a slightly befuddled expression on his face, as if he couldn't believe it was going to be this easy. Ha! Easy for him! He wasn't staring death in the face!

She was wearing only her bra and panties. Lifting her chin, she gazed at him defiantly. He might possess her body, but she'd never let him have her soul!

He moved toward her, his confidence restored. Of course he was confident. She'd be confident, too, if she had an army of guards stationed right outside the door, ready to drag a disobedient slave girl to her death if she didn't submit.

He stopped in front of her and gazed down, his green eyes raking her body. If she'd left her top on, he would have torn it off with his dagger… no, his teeth!

He burned up her skin with those imperious eyes. What if she didn't please him? Such a merciless master demanded more from her than simple submission. He demanded cooperation! And (she'd just remembered) he'd vowed to have her dearest friend, the gentle slave girl Melissa, tortured to death if he was displeased. No matter how it destroyed her pride, she must satisfy him!

To save Melissa.

She lifted her arms and cradled his magnificent jaw between her hands, desperately trying to gentle this barbarian. She leaned forward and pressed her innocent lips to his cruel ones-cruelly, cruelly… sweet.

She sighed and teased him with the tip of her tongue. When he opened his mouth, she invaded. How could she do anything else when she had poor, gentle Melissa's life to protect?

His hands splayed over her bare back, moved up to the clasp of her bra. Her skin quivered. The clasp fell open.

He gripped her shoulders and took over the kiss. Then he tugged off her bra and cast it aside.

His mouth left hers. His jaw scraped her cheek. "Molly…"

She didn't want to be Molly. If she were Molly, she'd have to grab her clothes and put them right back on, because Molly wasn't self-destructive.

She was only a slave girl, and she bowed her head submissively as he drew back and gazed down at her naked breasts, now exposed to his predatory emerald eyes. She shivered and waited. Cotton rustled as he drew his T-shirt-his silken robe-over his head and tossed it aside. She squeezed her eyes shut when he pulled her against him, his conqueror's chest pressed to her naked, defenseless breasts.

Tremors swept over the sensitive skin as he began to nibble kisses, like a golden slave's collar, around her throat, then down to the breasts that no longer belonged to her. They were his. Every part of her body belonged to him! Her knees grew weak and sagged. She wanted this so much, but she needed desperately to hold on to her fantasy.

Master… Slave girl… His to do with as he wished. Mustn't anger him… Let him-oh, yes-extend the trail of kisses over her ribs to her navel, her stomach, gliding over her hipbones as his thumbs caught the elastic on her panties.

Concentrate! Envision those cruel lips! Those cutting eyes! The dreadful penalty the slave girl would pay if she didn't ease her legs open so he could slip his hand between them. Her merciless master… Her savage owner… Her-

"There's a bunny on your panties."

Even the most creative mind couldn't have held a fantasy together against that dark, husky chuckle. She glared at him, then grew uncomfortably conscious that one of them still wore a pair of khaki slacks while the other wore only a sky blue pair of bunny panties.

"What if there is?"

He straightened and rubbed his fingers over the front of the panties, making her shiver as he gave the little bunny a pat. "Just wondering."

"They were a present from Phoebe. A surprise."

"They sure surprised me." He nuzzled her neck while he continued patting her bunny. "Are these the only ones?"

She sucked in her breath. "There… might be a few more."

He splayed his other hand across her bottom and massaged. "You got the badger dude on any of them?"

She did. Benny, with his cute little badger mask. "Could you stop… talking… and get back to… ahh… conquering."

"Conquering?" He slipped one long finger beneath the elastic leg band.

"Never mind." She sighed as he rubbed. Oh, that was wicked. She eased her legs open and let him go where he wanted.

And he wanted to go everywhere.

Before she knew it, her panties were gone, along with his clothes, and they were naked on her bed, too impatient to pull down the quilt.

Their play turned serious much too soon. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her on top of him-the servicing position. She wiggled up his body, caught his head in her hands, and kissed him again, hoping to slow him down.

"You're so sweet…" he murmured in her mouth.

But he was impossible to distract. He caught the back of her knees and spread them over his hips. Here it came. She braced herself for his thrust and bit her lip to keep from yelling at him to take his time, for Pete's sake, and stop acting as if the ref just blew the two-minute warning!

She'd promised herself she wouldn't criticize, so she sank her teeth into the hard muscle of his shoulder instead.

He made a low, hoarse sound that might have been pain or pleasure, and the next thing she knew she was on her back and he was hovering over her, those green eyes wicked.

"So the bunny lady wants to play rough?"

With two hundred pounds of muscle? Oh, I don't think so.

She started to tell him she'd only been trying to distract him so he wouldn't be so quick on the trigger, but he shackled her wrists and made a dive for her breast.

Ahhhhh… It was torture. Agony. Worse than agony. How could one mouth cause so much havoc? And she didn't ever want it to stop.

He brushed his lips over the slope of her breast. He grazed the nipple, moved to the other breast, where he did the same. Then, without warning, he began to suckle__

She writhed against him, but he didn't release the wrists he'd imprisoned in one hand. Leaving the other free to roam.

It meandered from breast to belly, then lower, brushing through the curls. But that proved to be a tease because he quickly moved on to her inner thighs.

They fell open.

He stayed where he was.

She twisted, trying to force those tantalizing fingers away from her thighs to the part of her that throbbed so much she thought she would die.

He didn't take the hint. He was too busy tormenting her, too busy playing at her breasts. She'd heard that women could have orgasms just from this, but she hadn't believed it.

She'd been wrong.

The shock wave caught her by surprise, thundered through her, and pitched her into the sky. She didn't remember crying out, but she heard the echo and knew she had.

He slowed. She shuddered against his chest, breathed him in, tried to understand what had happened to her.

He stroked her shoulder. He kissed her earlobe. His whispered breath tickled her hair. "A little quick on the trigger, aren't you?"