Her Rules

by CC MacKenzie

  The ring was stunning. Not a diamond. A diamond was too cold for Anastacia. Instead, he'd chosen a sapphire the exact color her eyes went when she was aroused, when he was deep inside her. A sapphire surrounded by diamonds, all of it set in a narrow band of white gold.

  He knew letting him into her life, falling in love, was a huge step for Anastacia. Her smile and those big eyes had captivated him and whose fragile heart, honesty and a generosity of spirit now held him her prisoner. He desperately needed to have her in his life twenty-four-seven. But he knew forcing the issue might spectacularly backfire.

  Turning her face, she pressed her lips to his neck, took a quick lick he felt in his shaft. The organ twitched against her bare bottom, so she did it again.

  "You are a bad girl."

  Sliding his hands around her waist and up to cup her slippery breasts, be dipped his head to take her mouth. The kiss was not gentle. It was hungry, demanding, and all tongue and teeth. She gave as good as she got. Now he smoothed his hands up over her arms to kneed all the tight muscles of her neck, her shoulders.

  She relaxed against him, sighed and closed her eyes, letting the magic of his hands relieve all her tension and soothe her. "Mmm, I could stay here all day."

  "No. Cold water makes you scream like a little girl."

  She turned her head to bean him with a dark look. "That was in the shower."

  He grinned as he remembered her teasing him about being a big bully when he'd turned the temperature down and even now the memory of her yelled curses made him hold her tight. He also remembered the wistful tone in her voice, when she'd spoken of them being a normal couple who went out to dinner and did normal things. Now he promised himself that he'd do plenty of normal things with her. And he promised himself that he'd make her happy, too.

  His Anastacia desperately needed plenty of love, and God knew he had plenty to give. All he wanted to do was to spend the rest of the day and all of the night in bed showing her exactly how much love he had for her.

  Before that, they had to get through her first meeting with her father's family.

  He knew she was fretting over it, even as she also knew he was there for her.

  The evening would go well, he'd make sure of it.

  Her next comment did more than distract him.

  "A lot of people wonder what it is you see in me."

  In her mind was the shocked expression on Natalia Loewe's beautiful face when she'd been introduced as Olivier's fiancée. And Anastacia bet it wouldn't be last time she'd see shock in people's eyes. She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn't realize that although his hand continued to stroke her thigh, he'd gone utterly still.

  "A lot of people?"

  Relaxing back against him, she missed the change in his tone.

  "My sister's more your type. I'm not tall. Leggy. Blonde."

  "No. You are just stunning to look at with a face that could stop traffic. You are slim, with gorgeous dark hair and you are intelligent, strong and lovely. I honestly do not know what I see in you," he said in a soft, silky voice.

  Now she felt stupid and embarrassed. And belatedly received the message loud and clear he was more than a little exasperated with her.

  "I'm not looking for compliments, or reassurance."

  "No? It shocks me that you care about what idiots on Facebook or Twitter think of you, or of me."

  "I don't care," she said heatedly, and realized she'd stepped into a big pile of doo-doo of her own making. "I'm not a perfect person, sometimes crap comes out of my mouth before my brain has engaged."

  "Well, you have made me angry, Ana." His tone reflecting the power of his words. "How dare you insult the woman I love?"

  "For goodness sake," she coughed and spluttered, after a firm hand on the top of her head had plunged her under the water. "What the hell, Olivier?" She spun to look at him, frantically blinking water out of her eyes and saw the vivid irritation in his. She splashed him. "Not funny."

  His dark brows winged into his hairline.

  "Do I look like I am having fun?"

  "Why are you so annoyed with me? It's not as if I'm demanding undying love or devotion from you."

  If anything those dark eyes went even darker and she knew she'd said exactly the wrong thing.

  "You should be demanding both from me."

  What the hell was she supposed to say to that?

  "Let me," he said in that horrible silky voice. "Show you why." His mouth on hers was bruisingly hot and hungry. The explosive emotion behind the kiss nearly blew her head right off. Her mind was spinning by the time he shifted to stare into her face. "You think I have made a mistake by loving you? I do not make mistakes of the heart. You are not a mistake."

  She narrowed her eyes, just as annoyed now with him as he was with her, even as her whole system seemed to hum with need.

  "Wind the temper right back, boyo. All that dominant male shit might be in vogue, but it doesn't work with me."

  Again his brows winged up. "I have not even begun to be dominant with you. Right from the start of this I have treated you with kid gloves. From now on the gloves are off."

  He ran his hands possessively over her bare bottom, his thumbs tracing the too sensitive, tender, skin between thigh and mound. "I want to hear you scream my name."

  "No." But she closed her eyes and shuddered as his fingers entered her and his mouth ravaged, there was no other word for it, hers.

  "You will." Now he raised her until her breasts bobbed on the water, and his busy fingers got to work below. He dipped his head, caught a pouting nipple between his teeth and gently bit.

  "Whatever you do to me, I'll do it back," she panted the promise. Big words, she decided as her arms rose to wind around his neck. Then she whispered his name as she shot over the edge so fast her body jerked and kicked as she shuddered in his arms.

  "Again," he demanded, adoring the way she collapsed, boneless, in his arms, as if she couldn't take anymore.

  "I can't do it." Her voice was faint, the words thick.

  He was beyond thrilled with her response to him now, but the need to take her hard and fast nearly hurt too good.

  Now he stood with her in his arms, and praying he didn't fall flat on his face, stepped out of the bath.

  "Bed."

  He laid her, wet inside and out, on their bed, suckled that hectic pulse on her neck. Cristo, she smelled amazing. Now with quick hands, urgent mouth, he kissed his way down between taut breasts, over her trembling belly to that sweet and wondrous part of her he loved most.

  She jerked beneath his mouth, as frantic fingers dug into his scalp to press him closer.

  Her orgasm was so abrupt it caught both of them completely by surprise. So fast, she didn't hear herself scream his name.

  He took everything she had to give him and then he took more. Again and again, and with no warning whatsoever, he threw her screaming over the edge.

  His blood was charging through his veins, tightening his whole system until the need to be deep inside her was an almost intolerable ache between his legs. No woman had ever made him hurt so good like this. Only Anastacia could drive him out of his mind like this. Only her.

  He shifted, pulled her up and turned her until she was on her belly, legs spread wide, her feet on the floor. With rough hands he gripped her hips, lifted and filled her with one deep stroke that made her cry out. He took her hard and he took her fast. His heart was beating like a wild thing in his chest. She climaxed, her body clamping down hard on his. He swore his eyes rolled back in his head as he gritted his teeth, battling to hold himself back.

  Now he slid from her, turned her over, pulled her trembling legs around his waist and plunged again and again.

  "Ana." He watched her back arch as her whole body shuddered with a pleasure he knew she had no hope of controlling. Dio mio. He had brought her this. Now his teeth flashed in a smile that was beyond feral. "Ana. Look at me," he spoke through clenched teeth. His breath came in fast, sharp pants from his thr
oat because his lungs burned. His control wavered on a frail, flimsy edge.

  Her eyes half opened. They were hazed and dazed blue, but they remained fastened on his.

  "You are the only one," he sobbed the words as he poured himself into her. "You are mine." His mouth again staked his claim and found hers eager and open as he gave a last, final, thrust.

  He slept.

  Anastacia lay as if she'd binged on sex, drunk with love, as she listened to him breathe.

  Enjoying her own little private moment, she ran her fingers through his hair.

  "I love you," she whispered everything that was in her heart. "I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much it scares me."

  With a deep breath, she closed her eyes and told her busy mind to just stop thinking, just stop spinning, just for a minute.

  Next to her, Olivier smiled.

  She loved him and he was content.

  For now.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As the Range Rover drove through electronic gates, Anastacia had her first glimpse of her father's home. A Georgian mansion house constructed of creamy sandstone set in eighteen acres of beautiful English countryside. Her belly clenched. The property was a long way, a very long way, from her own humble beginnings. A triple garage sat at right angles to the main building. Behind the garage, two sleek horses the color of ripe chestnuts, tails flicking lazily, grazed in an emerald green paddock contained by white picket fences. The whole scene was picture perfect and quite beautiful.

  Slowly, Olivier brought the vehicle to a halt on a circular gravel parking space.

  He studied her white face.

  "You okay?"

  She turned to him, found darkly anxious eyes watching her carefully.

  "I'm fine."

  By the way a black brow rose, he'd caught the lie.

  He took her unresisting hand, brought it to his mouth.

  "I am here for you, piccolino. Your father has waited a long time to bring his family together. No one will hurt you."

  Too late.

  She was already feeling the hurt, and a horrible envy she determinedly pushed away. Now was not the time for what ifs and if onlys.

  Maria Rucker had made a fine home for her husband, Christopher, who was standing utterly still just looking at the daughter he was meeting for the second time.

  She'd raised her daughters in the security and safety of a leafy English countryside and she'd brought them up to respect how lucky they were and to work hard. The role of being a full-time wife and mother had both thrilled and brought her great joy. And she was looking forward to the day when she'd receive grandchildren. By the way Olivier Conti was standing in her entrance hall and looking at Anastacia, that wish just might be granted sooner rather than later.

  Her motherly instinct was well-honed. An instinct that told her that if she stepped forward to take the petite and stunning young woman in her arms for a hug (God knew she wanted to hug her) it would be a step too far. For Anastacia was staring at her out of the most beautiful and wary blue eyes Maria had ever seen. Her step-daughter was quite lovely, a bright shining light, and painfully uncomfortable. And, by the way her fingers were clutched in Olivier's, desperately uneasy.

  That unease brought it home to Maria that the girl they'd searched for, for over twenty years, was an independent and successful... stranger; a stranger who'd had her whole world, her past, and her present, turned upside down.

  Her eyes swam, but she refused to let tears fall. Tears were self-indulgent and had no place here today.

  Maria forced herself to take a careful and emotional step back and swallowed the hard rock of disappointment blocking her throat. When she saw her own grief and sorrow reflected in her husband's eyes, she nearly cried for everything he and Anastacia had lost.

  But it was her youngest, her desperately shy child, who broke the ice.

  She stepped forward with both hands outstretched. "Anastacia. I'm so terribly happy to meet you at last. I'm Tanith, your sister."

  And when Anastacia's smile, a genuine one, split her face, Maria realized that it might take time, but as a family every single one of them would be okay.

  She'd make damn sure of it.

  The dining room Anastacia was walked through mirrored the rest of the house.

  Elegant, spacious, scented with lemon oil and fresh flowers (cut from the extensive gardens and arranged by Maria Rucker) crammed into huge clear glass vases. The antique dining table could be extended to seat twenty-six with plenty of elbow room. At the moment it sat polished to an impressive shine and empty. The six of them were sitting in an extension of the kitchen, 'Where family ate,' according to Maria.

  Anastacia realized her father's wife was doing everything she could to put her at her ease. Once or twice during the delicious meal she'd caught Maria staring at her, not in a calculated or searching way, more with a hungry look in her eyes she didn't recognize or understand. Then the look was gone as those eyes had warmed and smiled. Eventually, the penny dropped that her step-mother liked her and was, for some reason, desperately proud of her.

  Anastacia just couldn't get her head around it.

  Olivier, with a gentle persistence that made her love him even more, managed to bring Tanith out of her shell. The girl was incredibly shy around him and blushed scarlet whenever he spoke directly to her, but she was beginning to relax.

  "So, you wish to be an artist?" he asked her now.

  "A writer," whispered Tanith as her cheeks burned.

  Chloe rolled her eyes at her sister's obvious discomfort. "She wants to write fiction. I think she'd be good at it since most of the time she lives in her head."

  The hot look Tanith flashed Chloe made Anastacia grin. It seemed Tanith might be shy, but she took no shit from her big sister. Good for her.

  "Romance?" she asked now and blinked at the way Tanith's brows rose when her blue eyes turned towards her.

  "No. Horror."

  Absolutely thrilled with the snarky tone, Anastacia laughed as she shifted her coffee cup out of the way and rested her elbows on the table. "Seriously? Who's your favourite author?"

  "King, Masello, Crouch and many others."

  "So, you're into blood and gore rather than hugs'n kisses?"

  Tanith's blue eyes danced, even as dimples flashed in her smooth cheeks.

  "Not really. I'm into creeping readers out with gooseflesh rising on the turn of each page. Basically, I want them to wet themselves with terror."

  "And all this," said Maria in a droll voice, "from a child who's terrified of killing a spider."

  "Ewww, spiders, especially big black spiders, seriously creep me out."

  Chloe sent her sister an evil little smile. "I know."

  Tanith balled her napkin and shot it over the table to bean Chloe in the face.

  "Girls, girls, settle down," muttered Christopher as he shook his head. "Chloe's sense of humor can be a little twisted at times."

  "Yep. Like the time she put two house spiders under my duvet," piped up Tanith.

  Chloe just grinned. "Best laugh, evah. You could've heard the screams from the north of Scotland."

  Now Christopher's blue eyes settled on Anastacia and narrowed in a way that made her blink.

  "Olivier, something needs to be done about the abuse Ana's receiving both online and in person. I spoke with Ethan Monroe this afternoon. His father and I are friends," he added for Anastacia's benefit. "He assures me there will not be a repeat of the assault on my daughter in his club. The behaviour of these so called fans is totally unacceptable."

  Opening her mouth to inform both her father and her boyfriend that she was perfectly capable of looking after herself, she closed it again when Olivier reached to take her hand and squeeze, a warning to keep quiet. "Si, Nico and I have already discussed the issue. A security team will be in place in the middle of next week."

  She blinked.

  Oh would they, indeedy?

  "Er, excuse me, but I'm sitting right here," she said and
turned to give both her father and boyfriend raised brows. "Who gave either of you the right to interfere in my life?"

  In the suddenly tense atmosphere Chloe and Tanith's blue eyes went wide.

  Maria Rucker rose to her feet, her eyes flashing.

  "Tanith, Chloe, clear the table," she ordered like a general assembling his troops. Now she turned to bean her husband and Olivier with a look that meant business. "I expect both of you to do everything necessary to ensure Ana's safety." When she turned those eyes on her, any hot words Anastacia was ready to express, died on her tongue. "And you will do as you are told, young lady. Your father and I have worried ourselves to death about you for long enough. We can't change the past, but we can do something about the present and the future. I expect you to do everything you can to keep yourself safe. Do I make myself clear?"

  Whoa.

  Out of the corner of her eye she saw Tanith take Chloe's hand and hold on tight.

  The silence was so loud she imagined she could hear a pin drop.

  And all the while Anastacia's eyes were glued to Maria's.

  "Yes, Maria."

  The woman nodded once, turned to her husband. "Show Ana the garden and we'll make more coffee. Olivier, you can dry the dishes."

  Phew.

  Anastacia let out a very long, very relieved breath.

  Chloe was bang on the money.

  Her mother most definitely ruled this particular roost.

  "I've carried memories of you inside my heart for so long, Anastacia. The burden of not knowing if you were alive or dead, not knowing if you were safe or happy has only grown heavier."

  Anastacia and her father walked side by side, not touching, through extensive and beautifully kept gardens.

  The house, and the people in it, had been nothing but kind, she acknowledged as she bent to inhale the scent of an overblown rose.

  Christopher took her hand and led her to a carved stone bench under an ancient oak. From here the rear view of the house with its terraces and gardens looked nothing short of spectacular.