Uncut Bundle

Slowly he stepped forward into the patch of moonlight that swathed the little clearing. He waited, muscles tensed, willing her to look toward him again. Why? Why not just call out and let her know he was here?

The answer was a cold whisper inside his head.

Because he wanted to see what she did when she saw him. Would she run to him? Throw herself into his arms? If she did—God, if she did…

But she didn’t.

Her reaction was like a kick in the gut.

Her eyes widened. Her lips parted on a little exclamation of surprise. She flung one arm across her breasts, the other over her feminine delta in an age-old gesture of modesty.

He knew damned well it was reflex action and nothing more, knew he had all the answers he needed…the answers he hadn’t wanted.

“No,” she said.

He couldn’t hear the word but he could see her mouth form it. “No,” she said again, and Matthew felt the swift rush of adrenaline as it coursed through his body.

His lips drew back in a predator’s smile. He toed off his running shoes, pulled his shirt over his head, unzipped his trousers and stepped free of them.

Stood still, letting her see the full measure of his arousal.

Then he dove cleanly into the dark jungle pool and went for her.

Mia had come down the path to the pool with her senses on alert for the animals that hunted these woods at night.

But she was alone. Alone for the rest of her life, she’d thought…and then, suddenly, she’d felt a human presence.

Matthew, she’d thought, her heart soaring, even though she knew it was impossible.

Matthew was gone.

She’d come to his house because it was the only place she knew where she’d feel safe. Douglas would never think to look for her in the same place he’d already found her.

She’d prayed Matthew would still be here even though she knew better. Of course, he hadn’t been. The house was empty. And yet, there were traces of him. A coffee cup, in the sink. His scent on the pillow in his bedroom.

She slept there, in his bed, holding the pillow in her arms.

A night passed. A day. And then, this evening, she’d felt—she’d felt something. A rift in time and space. Whatever it was, it had drawn her here, to the moonlit pool, the place where she and Matthew had made love.

Now, she sensed that she was being watched.

Had Douglas found her? Fear almost turned her legs to jelly…and then a figure materialized from the shadows.

Matthew.

Joy flooded her heart. He was here. The man she loved—but when she saw his face, so cold, so fierce, she knew that he still believed all Douglas’s lies.

“No,” she murmured.

He couldn’t believe them. He had to give her the chance to explain.

“No,” she said again, and as if he’d heard her, his lips turned up in a chilling smile.

It was a smile that suited what Douglas had told her about him, in excruciating detail.

“You lover is a killer,” he’d whispered, holding her chin in his hand, angling her head up high enough to make breathing difficult. “He has blood on his hands.”

He wasn’t. Matthew wasn’t a killer. He was gentle and loving and—