Page 79 of Loving the Enemy (The Montebellos 3)

“I do not want – nor need – an entourage! This building is one of the most secure on the planet, surely. Each room has guards, entrances are monitored. It’s a fortress.”

“It’s not just a matter of security. It’s a matter of propriety and tradition. Ancient lores establish this precedent and we follow their dictates because it’s as my people expect.”

“Well, time’s change. I’m sure there’s something much more useful these women could be doing.”

His eyes narrowed and then he nodded. “I’ll consider your request.”

“You’ll…” It was more than she’d expected, but his apparent willingness to be reasonable had the opposite effect than to calm her. It stirred her anger up anew, so that she glared at him.

“I hate having to ask you for permission! I want to be in charge of my own matters. My staff, my calendar, my life.”

“I have already said,” he responded, louder than he’d realized, “that I will think about this.”

She compressed her lips. “So now what? You think you’re giving me what I want and we should go to bed together? Well, fine. But you should know I have no plans to enjoy myself.”

His head jerked a little, and she had the most galling suspicion that he was laughing at her. “Oh, really?”

“Yes, really! So let your macho ego chew on that!”

He closed the distance between them and lifted her easily, over his shoulder, carrying her through to her suite and into the palatial bedroom that had been assigned to her. It was immaculate, so that when he dropped her onto the bed, her red robe was the only sign of disarray in the otherwise sumptuous space.

“What are you doing?” She demanded, pushing up on her elbows.

“You may rant and rave about your complaints out there but in here, I am going to show you how little you know of your own body.” He straightened, and she was awe-struck by the image he made, so huge, so strong, so incredibly handsome – in a wild, rugged way – that her heart was pounding inside of her chest.

But she refused to show him that he affected her at all.

“Fine,” she said, shrugging her shoulders and flopping back onto the bed. “Do what you want. I’ll just lie here.”

He made a growling noise, and reached for her ankles. His touch surprised her, and flames licked her body where his fingers glanced across her flesh. His eyes were mocking when they met hers, as his hands crept higher, finding the sweet, soft flesh behind her knee, then lifting up her hamstrings, so that the skirt of her robe was bunched at her waist.

Chloe could only watch, but her breathing was ragged and her blood over-heating.

“I will not make love to you tonight, Chloe,” he said thickly, hooking a finger into her underpants and snapping the band against her hip so that she made a sound that was half-surprise, half fervent desire.

“I will not make love to you ever, until you are begging for me to take you. You say you will feel nothing, and I am going to enjoy proving you wrong.”

He had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes flare wide and then he curled his fingers around her lace thong once more, pulling it with slow determination from her body.

Despite her protestations, she couldn’t help the whimper of anticipation that escaped her as he discarded her underwear on the floor.

He brought his mouth to her ankle then, kissing the same flesh his fingers had caressed, flicking her with his tongue so that she laughed unsteadily.

“That tickles,” she tried to sound bored but the words were heavy with her impatience.

He didn’t stop. He gripped her ankles though, holding her legs where they were, and then he moved his mouth upwards, drawing circles with his tongue so that her skin was warmed by his touch, before breathing on her and cooling her down. It was the most erotic sensation she’d ever known and her skin goosed all over. But when his bearded face grazed the fine, soft flesh of her inner-thighs, she bucked against the bed, the intimacy of his closeness something she hadn’t prepared for.

His hands kept her legs parted and then his mouth claimed her most intimate flesh, his tongue flicking her sensitive cluster of nerves so that she cried out, but it was all with pleasure. She bit her teeth together, curling her fingers into the duvet, knowing she had to be strong and resist showing him how richly pleasure was growing inside of her, how passion was sweeping her body, how pleasure was sinking into her skin.

He had not exaggerated his skills, however, and pleasure of new dimensions infiltrated all of her, so that she pushed up on her elbows and cried his name out, the word a horse plea.

“What’s happening?” She demanded, breathily, her face pink, her eyes sheened.

He lifted his head, his eyes full of emotions she couldn’t comprehend. “You are going to orgasm,” he said simply.

She fell back onto the bed as his lips returned to her flesh. She whimpered as he ran his tongue along her seam and then he pulled away, and to her desperation and devastation, he stood, towering over her.

“What are you doing?” She pleaded, the taste of release rising inside of her.

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