Page 6 of Reluctantly His

His silver, wolf-like eyes widened, then narrowed as he took a step toward me.

With a hot, humiliating rush of blood to my cheeks and throat, I realized my mistake.

Please.

Oh, hell. I’d said please.

I’d never be able to use that word again. Ever. Without thinking about him… and his… his thumb in my… mouth!

Laughter cut through the tension as a group of servants approached ever closer to where we stood, no doubt heading upstairs to right the bedrooms for the day.

I licked my lips. “Mr. Taylor.”

“Reid,” he corrected, his gaze on my mouth.

With my hand covering my lips, I mumbled. “Sergeant Taylor, you said yourself that you are overqualified for the task. Surely you must realize how unsuitable this arrangement would be for both of us.”

His mouth lifted at the corners again in that infuriating wolf-like grin. “I disagree. And don’t call me Shirley.”

I shook my head, confused. “I didn’t call you Shirley. I said surely.”

With his hands on his hips, he tilted his head back and laughed. “It’s from Airplane.”

“Airplane? I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I don’t have any trips planned.”

He glanced past my shoulder as the three women came within view.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught their curious glances. I wanted to turn and boldly stare them down… but didn’t.

With hushed whispers, they pivoted and made their way up the wide marble and mahogany staircase.

Sergeant Taylor kept his face averted, watching them even as he stepped closer to me.

When they were out of view, he turned his full attention back to me. Reaching out, he lifted my chin with his finger. “You’re adorable. It’s from a movie.”

“Oh,” I answered lamely, unnerved by his close proximity and the reminder of how boring and awkward I was. Just call me Mary.

“Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re going to be a good little girl and go write out your daily schedule for the next week for me. Your father didn’t seem to know it.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. The very idea of my father taking an interest in my cello lessons and charity events was absurd. My mouth opened to object.

He raised an eyebrow. “Eh. Eh. Eh. No objections. Whether you realize it or not, your father is only trying to protect you.”

I huffed as I pulled my face out of his grasp. As I waved my hand in front of me, I said, “Fine, but does it have to be you?”

My eyes widened as I slapped my hand over my mouth.

Never in my life had I been so forward as to actually say what was in my head.

Alarm bells rang in my ears.

I had to get away from this man.

He chuckled. “I don’t need to tell you that your father always demands the best.” He then leaned in close, his lips almost brushing mine. “And I’m the best, princess.”

The long hem of my gown tripped me up as I stumbled backwards in my haste to get away from him. There was no mistaking the sensual, double entendre to his words. “Please… I mean… not please…. I mean…”

Oh, hell.

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