" You wish to go?”
His jaw felt hard and warm. “I--yes, I wish to go.”
He moved her hand from his cheek to his chest, forcing her palm flat against the vibrant muscle of one breast. His eyes held hers, relentless and piercing. Loretta yearned to move away but knew she had little hope of breaking his hold. She could feel his heart thumping, a steady, sturdy beat in contrast with the uneven flutter of hers.
“You will walk backward in your footsteps and go forward a new way?”
“I--”
He slid her hand upward so it rested on his shoulder, forcing her closer. His height was such that she had to tip her head back to see his face. If he had been a white man, she would have been worrying that he planned to kiss her. But he wasn’t a white man. And she doubted gentle persuasion was what he had in mind. He seemed a yard wide at the shoulders, a looming wall of muscle. There was heat in the depths of his eyes as he studied her, a heat that had never been there before.
“I would have you beside me,” he told her huskily. "

― Catherine Anderson , Comanche Moon (Comanche, #1)