Page 40 of Her Irresistible Guardian

“I did.” He admitted boldly. “After the episode with Torres, something had to be done.

She faced him, deeming it rather cynical of him. “Apart from the fact that my say in the matter was overlooked.

“What would you have suggested instead?” He challenged.

“I was comfortable with how it was.” She shrugged.

“Which has gone on for long enough.”

“Indeed?” She asked ironically. She sat straight and eyed him directly.

“And then what? You wanted us to keep covering that which everyone must have suspected?” He took his hands out of his pockets and folded his strong arms on his broad chest.

The gesture made Amy look at him with increasing hunger, which she tried hard to swallow. “What bothers me is the way you manipulated this to your own convenience.”

“How can I manipulate something that’s almost public?” He arched his brows.

“You know you did it.” She said matter-of-factly. “I have difficulty to put up with this trait of yours.”

They fenced each other with their stares for several seconds.

“Your sense of independence is striking.” He said accusatorily. “It borders the fear of commitment!”

Her expression became a mask of anger. The barb reached home. She sprang from the chaise-longue, hands on her waist. “How dare you?” She drew up a long breath to calm the thundering of her upset heart. “If it was the case, I wouldn’t be here, deal or no deal!” She shivered when she saw his insolent eyes measuring her from head to toes, as if he could see through the hobby fabric. Nevertheless, she inwardly admitted that he was a bit right about her fear of commitment. It scared the devil out of her, but she’d never let him know that.

The sight of her deepened the need of his body. Mark’s mind recognised she was telling the truth though. She could have gone back to Nice if she had decided to. Like the first time. “But we do have a deal and you must stick to it.” He reinforced for fear she broke free again.

She forced herself to calm down and to sit leisurely on the chaise-longue again, arms folded. “It does seem I should follow through with my life, after all.” Either she made him see how she felt or he’d keep doing it.

“The hell it does!” His voice barely contained his fury. He walked fast into the room and stopped right in front of her, on the verge of losing control over his desire. “I won’t tolerate anyone making his claim on you, when I am your man!” His countenance froze in stone-like vexation.

“Making his claim?” She frowned. “What kind of word is this anyway?” He was her man, yes. And hearing him say it so pointedly made a rush of blood run hot in her veins, part of it parking on her cheeks.

“Yes! Exactly what you heard.” His eyes intent on of hers.

“How very...traditional.” And she reclined again, defiant.

This exposed her body to Mark, the folds of the hobby opening slightly, revealing her naked skin. He sucked in the air in search of some slippery control. Denied by his lower abdomen.

The way Mark looked at her had direct effects on her. Her lungs craved more air, her heart speeding faster.

He gave one more step towards her. “I don’t care about the label you give it.”

Her wide eyes lifted slowly to him and their eyes locked in battle. Desire boxed direly with strong-wills. Automatically she sat up as tension built. His fierce commanding eyes were melting the whole of her and were about to extract her expected response.

“No other man will ever claim my woman!” He reached the chaise-longue.

She couldn’t bear it any longer. Her eyes lowered unhurriedly, until they registered a certain part of his swollen anatomy. Quickly, her honey pools darted up at him, wide. Desire was winning shamelessly. She sucked her breath through her parted lips. Now his look held hers captive in a spell. Her abdomen reaped with fire waves. On its own accord, her body leaned back, growingly lax, as her head found the upholstery.

Without leaving her stare, he approximated the chaise-longue. She flexed her knees, making the hobby slid to her thighs. For God’s sake, he had never met a more sensuous woman in his life. She made him totally weak before her. He was at her mercy. Forever. Slowly, he knelt on the upholstery. His hands rested on her knees. His stare strolled over her semi-naked state. He parted her knees, his hands travelling to her inner thighs, reaching her moist centre, peeling her. His mouth followed, his tongue daring. She sighed and her arms stretched over her head in blunt offer, hazy eyes.

Waves and more waves shot through her, making her writhe under his maddening skill. She felt his tongue drawing the most exquisite patterns as it drove her to utter wantonness. His hands travelled over her narrow waist, her rib-cage and reached her bare breasts, completing her downfall. His fingers clipped her nipples, the sensations orchestrating with the ones bellow. And her hunger grew, widened, almost swallowed her.

But he wouldn’t let her go all the way. Oh, no. He stopped when she reached the verge of the abyss. He lifted his head and eyed her supplicating countenance. He bent over her. They would sort the discussion out. Yes, they would. Not now. Not now!

“Amy, you belong with me.” He kissed her deep and hard. “Never forget that.” He murmured in her ear.

She just glanced at him, lost in her own urge. He freed his turgid eagerness. She arched onto him in expectation. When he entered her in a long slow thrust, the world disappeared. Only their entwined bodies remained real, moving in flammable need, in search of completion. He invaded her mouth as his arms circled her in a calid embrace.

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