"Then I suppose our discussion is done." She turned to go, but he had a hard grip on her upper arm, pulling her back. "Not yet it's not," he growled. She fought down the old, nauseous fear. "Let go of me." "Why?" He cocked his head, an ugly sneer on his beautiful lips. "Can't stand my touch?" "Yes!" she tossed back, losing her patience, her self-control, and any upper hand she'd ever had in their argument. Which was when he took her by the shoulders, pulled her roughly into his arms, and pressed his mouth to hers. And Eve lost her sanity. Eve Dinwoody's lips were soft and sweet, entirely belying her sharp and tart personality. For all of a half second Asa reveled in that yielding sweetness. He'd shut her up in the most basic, the most primitive way a man could a woman. And then he realized something was very wrong. He pulled back, his lip curled cynically. She was an aristocrat. She probably thought him bestial, base, dirty, and not worthy of her mouth. No doubt she was disgusted by him. But disgust wasn't what showed on her face. It was fear. White showed all around the blue irises of her eyes, and there were pale indents on the sides of her nostrils. Her expression reminded him of what she'd looked like when he'd found her with the dog, but this was worse- much worse. She wasn't making a sound. "Eve." Her brows creased and the most horrible sound came from her lips. She whimpered."