Passion drew them together. Vengeance forced them apart. Love kept them yearning only for each other.

Adam pulled Molly toward him, and her body was stiff for a moment, her lips resisting as if she had never been kissed by a man before. Then with a soft, sobbing sound, her mouth moved under his, her body curved to him. There were more of those little sobbing moans as his tongue found its way between her lips, and his hands moved along the line of her back, feeling clearly the firm shape of her buttocks beneath the thin material of her gown. She twisted, without any real resistance, and pulled away slightly. "Please, no," she murmured.

He pulled her back, kissed her mouth again, kissed her eyelids, let his mouth move down her throat. "I wont hurt you, Molly," he said, his lips against her skin. He undid the buttons to bare her breasts as he had done in his mind a hundred times, pulled her hands away to stare, dry-mouthed, at the lush, round fullness of them. "Oh, God, you're beautiful," he whispered.