Volume 3: Kane
© Cyndi Friberg, October 2005
All Rights Reserved

Again, Dora finished for him. Beth's screams followed her as the image faded to black. Velvet tranquility surrounded her for a moment then she materialized on the large training mat in her dojo. She trembled, infuriated by her helplessness.

“Your mind wouldn't let me -- ”

She spun to face the intruder, kicking his legs out from under him. He landed with a grunt on his back, his head smacking against the mat. Dora straddled his chest. Her knees pinned his arms to the floor.

“Why can I see you now?” She positioned her fist above his throat.

Fierce dark eyes dominated his strong, masculine features. Long black hair spilled across the mat. Despite her focus, her pulse leapt. She recognized a kindred sprit. He was a warrior, a man ruled by discipline, calm and assured.

He didn't struggle. His gaze studied her, assessed her as she assessed him.

“I'm not a part of what happened in the park. Your mind wouldn't let me in.” His casual tone provoked her. Why didn't he perceive her as a threat?

“Who are you?”

“Who I am is irrelevant. I need to know exactly where you are.”

“This is my dojo.” Why did she feel so -- strange? “I bought it when my sensei retired.” Even knowing the fact was irrelevant didn't keep her from speaking the words. Warmth radiated from his body -- or was her body emanating the heat?

“Let me up. I find this position distracting. ”

His gaze focused on her crotch, and pleasure curled up through her body. This wasn't right! She didn't have erotic dreams. Her opinion of men had been shaped by her sister's murder. After years of counseling and three unsatisfying relationships, she'd come to the conclusion that sex was grossly overrated

“Am I still dreaming?” She looked around, ignoring his directive. “This doesn't feel like a dream anymore.”

He flexed his arms, effortlessly lifting her entire body. Cupping her butt, he flipped her backward onto the mat and came down on top of her. She gasped. His mouth curved in a triumphant smile. “I only ask once.”

His aggression sent desire spiking through her body. She panted, inadvertently filling her nose with his evocative scent. Her body throbbed; her breasts ached. What the hell was causing this?

Driven by some unseen force, she curved her fingers around the back of his neck and pulled his head down toward hers. His lips parted, and she thrust her tongue into his mouth, stroking and tasting. She arched, grinding her pelvis against his. Why wasn't he returning her kiss?

He tore his mouth from hers and turned his face to the side. “You must stop.”

Dora stroked his chest, his shoulders, his muscular arms, fascinated by the shape and the texture of his body. She needed more, she needed all of him. Nibbling at his neck, she rubbed her mound against his burgeoning erection.

“Touch me,” she pleaded “I want you to.”

“You don't know what you're doing.” He dragged her hands away from his chest.

Hooking her legs over his thighs, she flipped him onto his back. She straddled his hips and frantically worked the knot securing her belt.

“Dora, stop this!”

She opened the front of her gi, pushed up her sports bra, and guided his hand to her breast. “I need this. I need you.”