His head jerked up. For another moment he was motionless. Her lips were parted slightly, trembling. Her eyes looked heavy. Her nipples were hard little circles plainly visible though the wet dress, her arms limp at her sides as she let him look. He shuddered, and his control snapped.	She couldn't move. He walked toward her without taking his gaze from her, without seeing or hearing anything else, a primal male animal intent on mating. He was breathing hard and deep, his nostrils flaring. Water dripped off him as he moved. She waited, shaking with need and fear, because he was out of control and she knew it. It was an exhilarating terror, freezing her but at the same filling her with an anticipation so acute she was almost in pain.	Then his hands were on her, and she moaned aloud from the sudden release of tension.	She didn't have time to respond. She had expected to be swept up in his arms and carried to bed, but he had gone far beyond paying attention to niceties. Nothing mattered to him but to have her, right then.
Linda Howard, White Lies
romantic-suspense, romantic-thriller