Rebellion & In From The Cold by Nora Roberts

knotted into fits and muttered oaths. He discovered she weighed next to nothing and could wriggle like a snake.
    “Hold still, damn you. You’ll pay for that.”
    “Let go of me!” She struggled and tossed her weight backward, hoping to unbalance him. “I’ll kill you if I get the chance.”
    “Well I believe it,” he said bitterly. Her struggles broke his grip, and his hand moved up and overher breast. The contact shocked both of them, and the combat took on a new desperation. “Be still, damn it.” Out of breath and patience, he tried to find a purchase that was less arousing. Seeing her chance, Serena sank her teeth into the back of his hand. “Bloody viper,” he managed before her heel connected with his still-tender shin and sent them both tumbling to the ground.
    He told himself it was instinct, certainly not any concern for her welfare, that had him cushioning her fall. The impact knocked the breath from both of them and left them tangled together like lovers. The moment she had recovered, Serena brought her knee up, barely missing her mark.
    They rolled over a bed of pine needles and dried leaves while she fought like a wildcat, pounding him with fists and spitting Gaelic curses. Blinded by her hair, he made a grab for her and found himself gripping her bare flesh where her shirt had loosened.
    “Name of God,” he muttered as the blood stirred in his loins. She twisted, and her breast filled his hand. It was soft as water, hot as fire. “Bloody hell.” Though it cost him, he drew his hand back and made a frantic grab for her arms.
    Her breathing was shallow. A pulse had begun to thud in her throat when he had touched her. Her breast still tingled from his fingers. More than his threats, more than his anger, the unfamiliar reaction of her body frightened her. She was furious, she hated him. But oh, if he touched her like that again, she would melt like butter in high summer.
    He scissored his legs until hers were trapped between them. Intimately, without the cushion of petticoats, they pressed center to center so that she felt for the first time the shock of a man’s desire against her vulnerable womanhood. Heat flickered, then spread, in her stomach. The muscles of her thighs went lax. For an instant her vision blurred, giving him the advantage.
    He braceleted her wrists in one hand and held them over her head. It was a movement meant as much to give him a moment for clear thinking as to allow him to protect himself. Her skin was glowing as the blood pounded hot beneath it. Tangled with leaves, her hair spread out like tongues of flame and melted gold.
    His mouth dry, Brigham swallowed and tried to speak, but she was arching beneath him. Her continued struggles for freedom kindled fires in both of them that threatened to rage out of control.
    “Rena, for God’s sake, I’m only flesh and blood. Be still.”
    Her own movements were making her ears buzz and her limbs weak. There was an excitement that had somehow become tangled with panic, making her all the more desperate to get away. In defense she twisted from side to side and pulled a moan from Brigham.
    “You don’t know what you’re doing,” he managed, “but if you continue, you’ll find out soon enough.”
    “Let me go.” Her voice was steady, and arousingly husky. As she watched him, her breasts rose and fell with each agitated movement.
    “Not quite yet, I think. You’ll still rip into me.”
    “If I had had a dirk—”
    “Spare me the details. I can imagine.” He had nearly caught his breath, and he let it out now, slowly, cautiously. “My God, you’re beautiful. It tempts me to keep you on the edge of fury.” With his free hand he traced a fingertip over her lips. “It simply tempts me.”
    When he started to lower his head, her lips warmed and parted. Stunned by her own reaction, she turned her head quickly to avoid the kiss. Brigham contented himself with the tender flesh just below her ear, and the slender line of her