Wes called to Anna, making no effort to lower his voice. “Are you mad? Papa’s in the next room. He’ll hear — ” “I don’t care. If you don’t come down, I’m coming in after you.” Anna wasted no more time trying to reason with him. She could see it would do no good. Why had Wesley come here, risking discovery like this? Was he drunk? She pulled the back door open. He was there. Before she could say a word, he thrust her back against the doorjamb and crushed his mouth down on hers. Unprepared for his assault, still she knew a thrill of sheer pleasure. There was no taste of whiskey in his mouth, just the familiar hot sweetness she always tasted when he kissed her. Every part of her body was telling her to cling, but reason warned of the danger. Twisting against him, she pulled back and gasped, “What are you doing?” “I want you, Anna,”
