Page 73 of New Storm Rising
“So…” He leaned forward even farther. Now his facewastouching mine. With every word, his lips brushed against mine, sending sparks of frost and fire into me. “You find me amusing, do you?”
“N-no?”
He didn’t seem to hear or care. Pressing even closer, he held me against the wall so tightly that I couldn’t even move an inch. His lips weren’t just brushing against mine now, either. They were teasing, tantalizing, torturing me with every touch.
“So, you want to usurp my authority, do you? You want to play the big boss?”
By now, I couldn’t squeeze out even a single word if I wanted to. And not because he kept scattering searing kisses over my mouth, face and neck.
“Then let’s find out, shall we,” he told me, his every word falling on me like a deadly hammer strike.
“Now, wait just a minute—”
That was my first mistake. Talking instead of escaping right then and there. My second…
Well, that was not really wanting to escape in the first place. An instant later, his arms encased me in an iron grip and I found myself lifted into the air, held tightly in Mr Rikkard Ambrose’s arms, his eyes burning into my eyes, my soul, my entire body with an intent that made me feel naked.
Which you’re probably going to be quite soon, by the looks of things.
His eyes flashed darkly. “Let’s find out who therealboss is, shall we?”
Who’s the Boss Here?
I barely had time to suck in a breath before he was moving. An instant later, the surroundings were whizzing past me and I found myself inside the house, heading at high speed towards the bedroom.
“Hey, put me down! I can walk on my own! I can—”
“Silence.”
That command. That one word. I felt a shiver go down my back. That was the same tone of voice he’d used when ordering me around the office, back in the days when I had been nothing more than Mr Victor Linton, humble secretary and all-around minion. A tone that demanded nothing but absolute obedience.
So, why the heck is it making me feeling hot all over? I’m no obedient little wife!
Right?
Right, definitely not! And the fact that during my mental debate, I had snuggled closer to my husband as he clutched me in his arms was pure coincidence!
“So…nothing more to say?” The challenging look in his eyes…it was simply too much!
“I’ve got plenty to say, Mister! I—”
Before I could get out another syllable, Mr Rikkard Ambrose silenced me in the most effective way possible. Not with words. Not with icy glares. But with his lips. His arms tightened around me. The way he was holding me…it should have been called a princess carry. But what I would really have to call it would be booty carry. Because he was holding me in his clutches like a pirate would his plundered treasure. And, well…
Because his hand was squeezing my booty.
“Mr Ambrose!” I hissed, my face heating.
The iceberg who held me in his arms remained unfazed. “Mrs Ambrose?”
“Remove your hand!”
His hand tightened, squeezing hard. My face flamed.
“What did I say about proving to you who is the real boss around here, Mrs Ambrose?” he growled.
I lowered my eyes, shying away from him—until I realized what I was doing, and my chin jerked up, my eyes glaring straight at him.
“You’re not the boss of me!”
