Page 168 of Wild Mustang Security Firm

“Please?”

“Say it.”

“You are.”

He kissed her shoulder and removed the ginger plug, rinsing it under the water in the kitchen sink before tossing it away and washing his hands. He saw her start to move out of his peripheral vision.

“Did I tell you it was okay for you to get up?”

“No, sir. I just thought?—”

“Think again. You stay.”

He turned back to the sitting room and surveyed the chaos Zara had created. She had a tendency to do that—create chaos. She was good at it. He headed back into the sitting area, shaking his head, and cleaned it up before going into the kitchen to wash the dishes. Setting them in the rack over the sink to dry, he wiped down the counters and sink. Noah ran his hand up her flank as he approached her—much like he would if she were a fractious filly, he meant to teach her to yield to him. Gently grasping her hair in his fist, he indicated she could get down off the counter, then led her back to the bed.

“Get tucked in bed. I’m going to check the security feed and lock down the cottage for the night. When I’m done, I’ll join you,” he said, holding up the covers for her.

“I don’t want to sleep with you,” she said spitefully but without any real rancor.

Noah patted her bottom and waited until she complied and got into bed.

“That’s all right, sweetheart. I don’t intend for you to get a lot of sleep.” He leaned down to kiss her.

Chapter

Six

Obnoxious, beast!An animal that seemed intent on bending her to his will. Well, she wasn’t about to be bent. She could hear him moving around the cottage. She should be trying to figure out how to get away from him, how to feign sleep so he’d let her be, but her nipples ached for his touch, and her pussy was pulsing in anticipation of being possessed by him again. And that was the real problem—Noah Taylor didn’t just spank her, fuck her, or fig her, for that matter. No, what he did was possess her. When he stroked her with his cock, it wasn’t just the physical sensations that overwhelmed her, it was the emotional and mental ones as well.

There was no question in her mind, she needed to get away from him. Not only did he seem bound and determined to keep her from getting the story on Fariq’s operation and the hostile takeover being precipitated by Springer, Zara was fairly sure he meant to dominate her life.

When Damian died, she told herself she would never let another man have that kind of power over her. What Noah was already exhibiting made what she had with Damian pale in comparison. If she let herself become emotionally entangled with Noah, he would destroy her carefully resurrected half-lifeand force her to accept her place at his side. Who was she kidding? Noah didn’t want her at his side as his equal. What he wanted was her writhing beneath him and always a step behind him. He would lead, and she would be relegated to follow. When she didn’t, he’d give her reason to wish she had.

The floorboards creaked as he made his way around the cottage, then returned to the bedroom. She kept her back to the door and tried to ignore him as the bed sagged when he sat on the opposite edge. His hand was warm and reassuring as he reached under the covers and ran it down her spine before gently fondling her derriere.

“I know you’re awake, Zara. Even if you weren’t, I’d probably wake you up to fuck you again before we go to sleep.”

She flipped onto her other side, so she could glare at him, a strategic mistake. He really was magnificently made—his bronzed and broad shoulder bore an elaborate, tribal tattoo, the intricacy, and the way it sculpted his muscles made her catch her breath. His back was heavily muscled, as was the rest of his physique. He smiled as he watched her and gently lifted his finger to trace up her throat to her lips before leaning over to kiss her.

“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” he said in a voice full of awe.

“I’m not.”

“Don’t argue with me. You are gorgeous.”

“Don’t,” she whispered.

“What?”

“Don’t be nice. I won’t be able to stand it if you’re nice.”

He smiled and leaned down to kiss her again. This kiss wasn’t like any of the others, not harsh or demanding, comforting or sensual, but full of feeling and caring, coaxing her to embrace what she was feeling—trust it was real, and he could make her whole again. If she wasn’t careful, it would be her undoing.

Zara didn’t even know a tear had started to slide down her cheek until he brushed it away with his thumb and kissed her again.

“It will be all right, Zara. You don’t have to fear anything.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” she challenged softly.

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