her eyes darted between him and any possible escape route.
He cornered her
and the phrase fight or flight ran through her mind. She stepped toward him and
threw a right hook with the power of her weight behind it. Her fist connected
with his chin and sent him back a step. Pain flared in her hand and she shook
it, darting under his arm around to the center of the room and took the stance
of a boxer waiting for her opponent to advance.
Bedroom Eyes
rubbed his chin where she hit him and stopped laughing, spinning in her
direction. Stalking toward her, he easily sidestepped her next punch, grabbing
her arm as it passed him. He yanked her toward him, grabbing the bicep of her
free arm and holding her in place with her back against his chest. She squirmed
in his grip and he wondered what the hell brought this on.
Her bare heel
slammed down on his Nike-clad foot, stinging but not enough for him to loosen
his grip. He leaned in to speak, to tell her to cool her jets, he was only
there to bring her food, but before he got the first syllable out, she slammed
her head into his nose.
“Shit!” He let go
of one of her arms and when she swung away, he yanked her back. She rammed her
elbow in his chest using inertia to her advantage.
* *
* *
That was enough.
Ty was no longer amused and he picked her up by her arms and threw her toward
the bed. She landed on the mattress, rolled and was up on her feet seconds
later.
He started toward
her again, she charged full into his stomach like a linebacker, knocking him to
the floor, and he grabbed her, bringing her down with him and rolling, pinning
her to the hard concrete with his body. Her hair fanned out under her as she
struggled and he was able to get a hold of her arms, pinning each one by her
head and holding her there until she stopped struggling.
“Are you
finished?”
“No,” she growled
and tried to bite him.
He grabbed both
her wrists in one hand, kneeled on her thighs, pushing them open with sheer
force.
“Are you finished?”
he growled down at her.
She spit at him.
He wiped the spit
from his face, glaring at her. “You have entirely too much energy today.”
“You’re hurting
me,” Jessica said.
“That’s the
point.” He moved his hand under her dress and pinched her nipple.
“Get off me,”
Jessica said.
He leaned down,
biting her other breast through the dress, still glancing sideways at her. She
winced and renewed her efforts.
“I just came in to
bring you food,” he explained, his hand trailing down between her legs, his
stroke soft and sensual.
Jessica stopped
struggling. “Then stop,” she finally said.
Being this close
to her, even with her struggling and fighting was as intoxicating to him as a
gram of heroin is to an addict. He couldn’t stop; even with the silent plea in
her eyes, even if he was presented with the choice of stop or die, he couldn’t
stop. His hand continued gently probing, massaging, teasing and she didn’t look
away.
“Stop,” she
commanded softly.
He stopped but
remained on top of her, pushing her legs wider and settling between them, his
jeans tight and constraining against his hard member. He studied her face, the
flush in her cheeks, her wonderfully dark eyes and he hesitated, tracing the
outline of her jaw with the fingers of his free hand. God you are beautiful. The thought never voiced, only a deep sigh passed his lips and he went to
kiss her but she turned her head away.
Sudden
overwhelming anger engulfed him. Anger at his stupidity, anger for her
insolence and anger because more than anything, he wanted this woman to admit
she felt the same heat, the same wanting, the same need throbbing in his veins.
He grabbed a
handful of her hair and pulled her head back. She cried out and he took the
opportunity, covering her mouth with a powerful unwanted kiss. Her teeth
clamped down on the soft tissue of his tongue and he yelped, yanking away. A
hot coppery taste filled his mouth and he swiped his finger on his
He cornered her
and the phrase fight or flight ran through her mind. She stepped toward him and
threw a right hook with the power of her weight behind it. Her fist connected
with his chin and sent him back a step. Pain flared in her hand and she shook
it, darting under his arm around to the center of the room and took the stance
of a boxer waiting for her opponent to advance.
Bedroom Eyes
rubbed his chin where she hit him and stopped laughing, spinning in her
direction. Stalking toward her, he easily sidestepped her next punch, grabbing
her arm as it passed him. He yanked her toward him, grabbing the bicep of her
free arm and holding her in place with her back against his chest. She squirmed
in his grip and he wondered what the hell brought this on.
Her bare heel
slammed down on his Nike-clad foot, stinging but not enough for him to loosen
his grip. He leaned in to speak, to tell her to cool her jets, he was only
there to bring her food, but before he got the first syllable out, she slammed
her head into his nose.
“Shit!” He let go
of one of her arms and when she swung away, he yanked her back. She rammed her
elbow in his chest using inertia to her advantage.
* *
* *
That was enough.
Ty was no longer amused and he picked her up by her arms and threw her toward
the bed. She landed on the mattress, rolled and was up on her feet seconds
later.
He started toward
her again, she charged full into his stomach like a linebacker, knocking him to
the floor, and he grabbed her, bringing her down with him and rolling, pinning
her to the hard concrete with his body. Her hair fanned out under her as she
struggled and he was able to get a hold of her arms, pinning each one by her
head and holding her there until she stopped struggling.
“Are you
finished?”
“No,” she growled
and tried to bite him.
He grabbed both
her wrists in one hand, kneeled on her thighs, pushing them open with sheer
force.
“Are you finished?”
he growled down at her.
She spit at him.
He wiped the spit
from his face, glaring at her. “You have entirely too much energy today.”
“You’re hurting
me,” Jessica said.
“That’s the
point.” He moved his hand under her dress and pinched her nipple.
“Get off me,”
Jessica said.
He leaned down,
biting her other breast through the dress, still glancing sideways at her. She
winced and renewed her efforts.
“I just came in to
bring you food,” he explained, his hand trailing down between her legs, his
stroke soft and sensual.
Jessica stopped
struggling. “Then stop,” she finally said.
Being this close
to her, even with her struggling and fighting was as intoxicating to him as a
gram of heroin is to an addict. He couldn’t stop; even with the silent plea in
her eyes, even if he was presented with the choice of stop or die, he couldn’t
stop. His hand continued gently probing, massaging, teasing and she didn’t look
away.
“Stop,” she
commanded softly.
He stopped but
remained on top of her, pushing her legs wider and settling between them, his
jeans tight and constraining against his hard member. He studied her face, the
flush in her cheeks, her wonderfully dark eyes and he hesitated, tracing the
outline of her jaw with the fingers of his free hand. God you are beautiful. The thought never voiced, only a deep sigh passed his lips and he went to
kiss her but she turned her head away.
Sudden
overwhelming anger engulfed him. Anger at his stupidity, anger for her
insolence and anger because more than anything, he wanted this woman to admit
she felt the same heat, the same wanting, the same need throbbing in his veins.
He grabbed a
handful of her hair and pulled her head back. She cried out and he took the
opportunity, covering her mouth with a powerful unwanted kiss. Her teeth
clamped down on the soft tissue of his tongue and he yelped, yanking away. A
hot coppery taste filled his mouth and he swiped his finger on his
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