"She had known that he could move quickly. Still it was a shock when she found herself pressed against the back of her seat, his face inches from her. "God's blood, woman, how much control do you think I have?" he whispered, his clove-scented breath brushing her face. "You must think me a saint by the way you harangue me despite my warnings. Listen and listen well: ." "But I don't need a saint," she breathed, her voice trembling. "I don't a saint. I want ." "God forgive me," he snarled, and pulled her mouth to his. His kiss wasn't gentle. He opened her lips with his tongue, invading her angrily. Passionately. How had she ever thought this man uninterested in bedding her? His big, hot body pressed her against the seat and he scraped his teeth over her bottom lip."