‘And secondly?’
Slowly, his eyes drifted open - and my breath caught. I had been wrong before. Very wrong. The lazy look he was giving me through half-closed lids was anything but sleepy. It was ravenous.
‘Because I don’t want to,’ he growled.
I swallowed.
‘Why?’
Leaning forward, he slowly, casually brushed his lips against my cheek, then moved on to my throat, making me quiver. ‘You have to ask that?’ he whispered against my skin. ‘After I’ve had you in my arms like this for hours upon hours, moving about, shifting against me in your shift, muttering no end of your little spikey complaints and shooting your tantalising, ear-burning insults at me, you ask why I can’t let go?’
A noise erupted from the back of his throat that was like no other I had ever heard.
‘Most men,’ I whispered, ‘wouldn’t appreciate being insulted.’
His eyes, cold and hard as steel, met mine. ‘Do I look like most men to you?’
‘No,’ I admitted.
Still clutching me in his arms, he rose to his feet, moving slowly and powerfully. His face was only inches away from mine now, his gaze holding me captive as surely as if he had me in iron fetters. Carefully, he set me down on my feet. But he didn’t let go of me. His hands clutched my face as if it were the most precious gem in the world and he had acquired the exclusive mining rights for a hundred miles in either direction.
‘Mr Linton- Lillian…’
The sound of my name on his lips was a shock to me. I tried to remember whether he had ever said it before, but couldn’t. Maybe once or twice, when he hadn’t been completely in his right mind. Was he in his right mind now?
Bloody hell, who cares if he’s in his left, bottom or upper one? Grab the chance by the balls, Lilly!
I licked my lips.
‘Yes, Sir?’
‘Don’t ever ask me to leave you behind again!’ Pressing his eyes tightly shut, he leaned forward until his rock-hard forehead rested against mine. ‘Do you hear me? Not. Ever.’
‘Y-yes, Sir.’
‘I’m not wasting money on an advertisement for a new secretary.’
‘No, Sir. Of course not, Sir.’
‘And I need you because you are the one who deciphered that damn manuscript.’
‘Certainly, Sir. Just as you say, Sir.’
‘And…and I need you because…because…’
He opened his mouth - then closed it again. Then opened it once more.
‘Yes, Sir?’ I enquired, my voice hardly more than a whisper.
His only answer was a tortured growl. A millisecond later, his lips came crashing down, making his point more clearly than the world’s most eloquent speech. Pushing me back up against the tree he claimed me, devoured me like a raptor its prey. The exhaustion of the last few days fell off me like dust, shaken from my shoulders. My arms snaked up around his neck, pulling myself against him, hard.
Last time had been too sweet, too gentle to fully appreciate it. But now, with our passions unleashed and burning like the stallions of the sun god before the fall of Icarus, I couldn’t help but notice what a difference the missing corset made. Where before there had been a thick, stiff wall between me and Mr Ambrose, there was now next to nothing between my soft spots and the hard lines of his body. A faint, faraway part of my mind noted that it should have been uncomfortable. After all, hard bunks were uncomfortable, right? Hard floors, too. And the body of Rikkard Ambrose was harder than both put together. So it should have been uncomfortable.
Emphasis on ‘should’.
His body was the hammer to my anvil. With every skilful strike of his tongue, every blow delivered by his lips, the passion between us was forged more tightly, connecting us in ways I could never have imagined. My hands, exploring his arms, his chest, his everything were desperately trying to shove him far enough away to remove the barrier of his clothes, and at the same time desperate to pull him closer, pull him against me, into me, until the distinction between our bodies vanished and we became one.
It was more than lust or desire, more even than need. Knowing that this hard, implacable man would never leave me behind, would stand between me and any danger that threatened sent an (entirely unfeminist, but blast, nonetheless searing hot) thrill through me. He cared! He cared enough to pick me up and carry me when I needed help, and to set me down on my feet again when I was ready. Not that I approved, of course! I could take care of myself, thank you very much, and I would whack him over the head if he ever tried to do anything like that again. But somehow, right now, I didn’t want to whack him over the head at all. Quite the contrary, in fact.