No roll in the hay is good enough
to die for . . . not even if it’s with you!
RIDE FOR THE DEVIL
Halliday settled back on the pillow and began to caress her neck and then her breast. He wrapped his arms around her and heard her gasp. For a long time they moved together with one heartbeat and one pleasure that built and built until there could be no more.
Finally, the woman rolled away from him, stretching herself like a contented cat.
“You said you’re name’s Donna?”
“Yes,” she murmured.
“Well, I’m Buck, ma’am, and I’d sure be grateful if you’d tell me where I am . . .”