Page 37 of Storm over the Caribbean
“I…I can’t.” Grabbing hold of my shoulders, he forced me to look straight into his eyes. I was close enough to see every detail of his perfect face, every emotion in his dark, sea-coloured orbs. “I can’t let you go.”
I cocked my head. “And what, Mr Ambrose, gives you the idea that I would need you to ‘let’ me?”
“You are my wife!”
“And you are my husband. At least if I remember that scene at the altar correctly. Doesn’t change the fact that I. Do. Not. Need. Your. Permission.”
He stepped forward. Now he was so close I could feel the heat that was somehow radiating off him while his eyes tried to freeze me in place. “Yes. You do.”
I also took a step forward. And it totally wasn’t because I wanted to get closer to his scrumptious self. Nope, not at all. “No. I don’t.”
He moved another step forward. “Yes. You. Do.”
Another step for me. “No. I. Don’—mmmmph!”
Apparently, his patience had run out, and he had decided to shut me up. Something I might have objected to, had his chosen method of shutting up not been kissing me senseless.
“Stubborn woman!” he growled against my lips as his mouth devoured mine.
“Chauvinistic son of a bachelor!” I hissed, trying my best to win our tongue-wrestling match. I would never give up! Never! And that wasn’t because I was enjoying his kiss so god darn much! Definitely not because it was sending spikes of heat throughout my body with every twist of his tongue!
Hm…could you win a tongue-wrestling match by suplex?
This bears investigating.
Plunging his tongue into my mouth again, he did his best to kiss me into unconsciousness. And I started…investigating.
And continued investigating.
And continued.
And continued.
When he finally broke the kiss, allowing me to gasp for breath, we stared at each other for a long, long moment.
Really long. As in, neither one was willing to give in.
“I’m still pissed off at you!” I growled.
“A mutual feeling, Mrs Ambrose, I assure you.”
“Come here and let me kiss you again!”
He obliged. Now only if he were this accommodating in regard to other subjects. Such as my not being parted from him under any circumstances!
“I’m not letting you go, do you hear?” I whispered against his lips. “Not without me!”
His face hardened. An impressive feat, considering it had been chiselled from granite before. His gaze flicked between my face and my abdomen, and his arm tightened around me.
“And I am telling you: you arenotcoming with me! Not to where I’m going!”
I saw it in his eyes then. I saw the true reason behind this. It wasn’t chauvinism. It wasn’t stubbornness. It wasn’t even the unwillingness to spend money on a second ticket.
It was fear.
Pure, unadulterated fear. For me, and for my child. My heart softened ever so slightly.
My eyes didn’t.
