Stella Bagwell - His Medicine Woman

Sucking in a harsh breath, she dared to glance at his dark face. “You don’t have to bother yourself,” she said tightly. “I’m all right.”

He cursed under his breath. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’ll get over it.”

But I’ll never get over you .

The unspoken words hung between them like a charged atmosphere on a stormy night. And then slowly, achingly, his gaze drifted downward to settle on her lips.

“Do you know what this is doing to me?”

Even though his question was spoken in a clipped whisper, she could hear agony and desire coating his words, twisting his voice.

“Yes,” she answered simply.

For one split second she thought he was going to drop his arm and move away. But then a groan sounded deep in his throat and before Bridget could anticipate his next move, she found his lips hovering over hers, his warm breath caressing her cheeks.

Desire stabbed her so deeply that she actually whimpered out loud. “Johnny.”

His name came out as a soft sigh, a gentle plea echoing from the past and he answered by closing the last bit of distance between their lips.

In the flash of an instant, the kiss became a frenzied give-and-take that had their mouths crashing together, their tongues tangling. The crush of his hard mouth was bruising, almost savage in its possession, yet Bridget’s senses thrilled to the utterly masculine domination.

Years of emptiness and longing fueled her need to get closer and without even knowing it, her arms slid around his neck, her body pressed into his.

But just as passion was beginning to consume her and the heat of his body spread through hers like liquid fire, he tore his mouth free and rapidly stepped back from her.

Pinning her with an accusing glare, he asked hoarsely, “Are you happy now? To know you still wield power over me?”

Completely dazed, her lungs heaving, Bridget stared at him. “Power?” she whispered in disbelief. “Is that what you think this is about?”

“What am I supposed to think? You come here tempting me.”

She gasped. “I didn’t just show up here! You asked me to come to your home! Remember?”

But for a tiny muscle twitching in his jaw, his face was as hard as a piece of granite.

“Yes. And already I regret it.”

His answer was like a punch in the stomach and she was still reeling from the pain when he turned on his heel and left the room.

Moments later, she heard the front door slam and the cold sound reverberated through her trembling body.

Tempt him? Yes, maybe a part of her had wanted to push him into some sort of reaction, she thought dismally. Maybe she’d wanted to see if there was still a spark between them, a vestige of desire leftover from the past.

Dazedly, her fingers lifted to her swollen lips. His wild kiss had given her the answer, she supposed. Five years had changed nothing. He might still want her, but he was determined not to have her.

So what, if anything, could she do about filling the chasm between them? Bridget didn’t know. But she was sure of one thing. She was older, wiser and much, much stronger than the woman he’d pushed out of his life five years ago. This time he was going to find that pushing her away wouldn’t be easy.

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