by CC MacKenzie
The last thing she wanted was the indignity of being... spanked, by a gorilla. A bully. By a man who used his sheer physicality against her.
But the thing that not only dismayed and disgusted her was the fact she was aroused to the point where her womb felt as if it was melting with need.
Then she remembered the precious cargo she carried deep within her.
So precious she'd never permit him to get physical with her, no matter how much she wanted it.
"Let me go," she whispered the words, becoming a little bit desperate now, because there was no way in hell she'd ever let this man anywhere near her panties.
"Are you on birth control?"
For a moment she went rigid with the thought that she'd misheard the question.
Excuse me?
"None of your business."
"Yes, it is very much my business. When did you last have a sexual health check?"
Her cheeks blazed, literally blazed, with mortification. The man was taking far too many liberties. She was sexually active and proud of it. That didn't mean she took risks with her health. Her sex life had nothing to do with him, or anyone else.
Then the truth of the matter slapped her so hard something like panic rose into her throat.
Of course it was his business.
What was happening to her body was very much his business.
"Again, none of yours. Release me."
He did and took a single step back.
She spun to face him, hands fisted and ready to strike.
Those eyes of dark gold, lion eyes, slid to her hands and then clicked to her face.
"You don't need to fear me."
Fear him?
Her eyes burned into his.
Oh, she wanted to flay the skin from his bones. But she wasn't stupid. She knew when she was out-gunned. Her well-honed instinct for self-preservation told her he'd happily follow through on his threat.
Now he studied her as if she was a small child having a temper tantrum, and her hand actually itched to smack his face, hard. Instead, she rubbed her damp palm down the hip of her yoga pants.
Those eyes followed the move before again flicking up to meet hers.
"You fear me," he repeated the statement.
She wasn't going to get into a pissing competition with him.
"Stay away from me."
Head held high, she marched out.
Sean waited for the bedroom door to slam, but the girl managed to restrain herself.
Just as well because he would have made her regret it.
He might, he considered now, have come on a little too strong. But his actions had had the desired effect. No more swearing. The change suited her. He might have won this round. But he was under no illusions. T.C. was very wary of him. She didn't respect him. Not yet. But she would learn to, very soon.
CHAPTER SEVEN
She was a midget in a family of giants.
A dazed Ana found herself gathered in a lightly scented but incredibly expensive embrace by a tall, slim woman in her late forties.
Valentina Conti's hair was black and shiny like her son's.
When she'd asked Olivier what his mother was like, he'd said she was, A typical Italian mama.
Yeah, right.
Ana decided her fiancé was a lying bastard because Valentina could never be called a typical anything. Immaculately presented, wand slim, and dressed in head to toe Armani, the woman looked as if she'd stepped from the pages of Vogue Italia.
Meanwhile, Olivier beamed, happy and content, as his sisters Marina and Michelle showered the male head of the family with hugs and cheek kisses, all the while talking in rapid Italian.
When his sisters turned their high squealing attention on Ana, she found it hard to keep her feet planted and not run screaming for the hills.
Something like panic gripped her.
When Olivier had talked about his family, in Ana's head they'd been vague and one dimensional and sort of fuzzy.
Now reality hit her so hard she was stunned by the sheer magnitude of the commitment she'd made to her man.
The three women judging every part of her from her hair to her shoes and studying her like a bug under a Petri dish were his family, for God's sake. Why hadn't she made more of an effort with her hair? With her makeup? With her shoes?
Who the hell were these beautiful people?
There was no way she could possibly fit into his world.
She couldn't do this.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Meanwhile, Sean was in his element exploring every nook and cranny of T.C.'s spectacular apartment.
The girl was well organized, he'd give her that.
Her kitchen-dining-living space was beautifully furnished, feminine and immaculate, with two sets of bi-folding doors that opened onto an L-shaped balcony. He wondered how she'd ever got planning permission because the space looked over The Mall with Buckingham Palace in the distance. She had a love of plants and flowers in pots, specifically trailing roses the color of baby pink. One part of the balcony was protected from the elements by a tight-fitting sunshade in the shape of a boat sail the color of bone. Very on trend. And beneath the sunshade were two low rattan couches with deep cushions covered in a heavy linen fabric. The color reminded him of milky coffee.
He wandered over to what looked like a long narrow workstation, the white table top protected by plate glass. Sitting next to two huge flat screen PCs was an enormous clear glass fish bowl half filled with M&M's.
He grinned.
Yep, T.C. had a sweet tooth.
Interesting.
He knew she was behind him, watching him.
"You eat your emotions," he said.
She moved so fast, he blinked.
Stormy blue eyes met his. "Excuse the hell me?"
He nodded to the bowl of candy. "That's what that is—a bowl of emotions."
Beneath her ear, her pulse was going crazy in a way that made him wonder.
Her furious gaze dropped to the sweet treats, then clicked to his. "Looks like M&M's to me."
Since he'd taken the job to protect Ana, he'd overheard enough of T.C.'s conversations about her weight—to him her figure was sensational—with her best friends, so he wasn't about to let her get away with that one. "You complain constantly about your diet and resent the fact that Ana and Danni eat what they like and never gain an ounce. And yet you have at least a pound of chocolate at your elbow when you work. What do you call it?"
In the blistering silence that followed, tension again built in the room.
Neither blinked first.
"I call it close the door on your way out," she said in a voice seething with hate and loathing.
"No."
Sean knew when he'd pushed someone over the edge.
He didn't need the glass bowl of M&M's heaved at his head, or the ear piercing scream she released, to tell him.
Fortunately for both of them, his reflexes were quick.
He caught the bowl and tossed it safely onto a couch, scattering candy everywhere, before gathering close a woman who'd totally lost her temper.
Seemed she was mad enough to sink her teeth into his shoulder.
A move which made him spin her around and close his arms around her to hold her tight.
It didn't take her long to run out of steam.
When her body went lax and she shuddered out a single sob, he could have kicked himself for upsetting her.
"Who hurt you, Theresa?"
The question had been a shot in the dark, but the way she went utterly still told him he'd hit a sore spot.
He had her arms pinned to her sides.
She was trapped against a hard body by a man who gave no quarter.
It galled her—fucking galled her—that emotions, long buried, should start to claw their way up through her chest and into her throat.
Something like terror now made her limbs, her voice, tremble. "Let me go."
And she knew by the way he loosened his gri
p that he'd heard and felt both.
When he turned her round to dip his head to study her face.
She knew he saw devastation, the heartbreak of loss and regret, all of it, swimming in her eyes.
"Christ, I'm sorry, Theresa. I never meant to hurt you."
He released her.
Then he turned to pace, his hands thrust through his hair.
He looked at her, his mouth a tight hard line. "How the hell do things keep getting so out of control so fast between us?"
She wasn't sure if he was asking her or himself.
She lifted her hands, realized they were shaking and hugged herself. "I don't know."
And then his arms were around her, holding her close and not too tight.
He pressed his lips to her forehead, her cheeks, the edge of her trembling mouth.
"I'm sorry," he said. She knew by the way his voice went soft, he meant it.
The tension, the fight, seemed to drain right out of her. "Please just leave me alone."
"I can't," he said in a tone that, right on cue, pressed a hot button.
And the fight was back.
"Try harder," she snapped.
The rapid return of Ms. Cranky made him grin.
He couldn't help it.
She was amazing.
"For some reason, God knows why, I like you," he admitted the truth and felt as stunned as she looked.
"Then you must be a glutton for punishment."
"That must be it."
"I don't like you," she said, but there was no heat in the words.
He heard the lie loud and clear.
"Yeah, sure you do."
The spark of fury was back in those blue eyes. "Don't tell me what I think or what I feel."
His mouth flirted with hers. Kissing but not kissing. Breath teasing breath. Tongue flicking along the seam of a stubbornly closed mouth.
"Pigheaded woman," he whispered.
"Better believe it..."
"I want to kiss you, touch you, all over. And then I want to do it again."
The picture he put in T.C.'s mind dissolved all thought of resistance.
Sean Kennedy was like the Borg—resistance was futile.
Her hands gripped his shoulders and then seemed to move of their own volition around his neck. "Anyone tell you, you talk too much?"
His head dipped and his mouth whispered delicate kisses over her jaw. "Theresa—"
"T.C. My friends call me T.C."
"I'm not your friend."
"No. You're about to be that very rare thing, a second one-night-stand."
He shifted to gaze down into her face, his tawny eyes focused and intent.
"And that bothers you?"
No.
Yes.
Who knew?
She gave him big blue eyes. "Hell, no. Don't worry about it. It's how I roll."
He grabbed the opportunity and now he swooped, leaving her no choice but to take part in the kiss or die from a lack of oxygen.
Her moan made blood flow too fast to his dick.
There was nothing Sean could do about it as it pressed against her soft belly, so he didn't even try.
He shifted to look down into her face, just loving the hectic flush of her cheeks, the wet fullness of lips swollen by his. Her eyes were closed. "I bet your feeling something now." He ground his pelvis into her belly.
Her inhale shuddered through lips that trembled.
When she finally opened her eyes, he recognized lust, need, want.
For some reason he searched for something more and caught a flash of that something and then it was gone.
Oh, she had feelings for him alright.
He wasn't entirely sure what they were, but she had them.
Maybe that was enough.
For now.
"Bed?"
She exhaled and nodded just once. "I suppose..."
He scooped her up.
"I'm too heavy..."
His mouth on hers—the long drugging kiss—shut her up.
"I'm a manly man," he said as he strode down the hallway and shouldered through the doors into her bedroom without even breaking a sweat, T.C. had to admit he was right.
Sean Kennedy was all man.
And for one more night only—he was hers.
CHAPTER NINE
Sean toed off crepe soled boots and laid her down on her big bed.
Then he joined her and rolled to his side to study her flushed face.
Those blue eyes still looked a little bit teary as they stared, unblinking, at the ceiling.
Hmm.
This wasn't how things were supposed to go when he was determined on seduction.
Last time she'd been the one in control while he'd been lying, helpless, in a hospital bed.
The memory of how utterly she'd seduced him made him smile.
"I don't think I'll ever forget what you did to me in my hospital room in Paris," he said, his fingers combing through the glorious gold of her hair. It was so soft, so fragrant, like silk.
She looked at him. "I wanted to see how your bruises were healing."
He nodded. "You kissed me and my dick stood to attention."
Her full mouth tilted. "You blushed."
"If you had a dick like mine, you'd blush too. He let me down very badly that day."
"Good job I came prepared."
A thought made him frown. "You often carry a box of condoms in your purse?"
"Once upon a time I was a girl guide. Today I still follow their motto—always be prepared."
He bit his lip. "Did you wear the blue uniform? The little beret?"
"I did."
"I can just imagine it. With pigtails?"
"A ponytail."
He placed a gentle hand on her belly, felt the stomach muscles flutter, watched the way her cheeks went hot, the way she bit down hard on her bottom lip. Encouraged, he slid his hand beneath her T-shirt to find warm, satin smooth skin. Her thigh muscles tightened. She liked that. So, he moved up to find her breast, naked, the flesh tight and her nipple beaded.
He rubbed his thumb gently, so gently, over her nipple.
Under his hand the way her body trembled thrilled him.
Hell, she was so incredibly responsive to his touch.
It wasn't as if he was unaffected either, his dick pressed hard against his zipper.
"I couldn't believe it when you pulled down your panties, lifted your dress, and straddled me. You took me so deep I couldn't breathe. You were so tight and wet and hot. And I remember you telling me not to move, not to touch you, that I was just to lie back and let you enjoy the ride."
"I didn't want to hurt you," she whispered. "I knew what I was doing was wrong. But I couldn't leave you like that, all achingly hard and aroused. Have you ever wanted to kiss someone for a long time and then when you did kiss them, the world fell away?"
He nodded, still gently kneading her breast, his thumb slowly circling the hard little bud of her nipple. "Yeah."
In response to his touch, she shuddered. "That's how I felt and I wanted you, so I took you really slowly and with great care."
He dipped down until his forehead rested gently on hers. "You, Theresa, are a very bad girl."
The way she batted her eyelashes made him smile. "What are you going to do about it?"
His eyes on hers, he whispered, "This time it's my turn. I'm going to get us naked and take it from there."
No words were spoken.
First of all he removed her socks, then peeled her leggings away.
He took his sweet time, after all there was no rush, to admire long limbs, the white lace of her panties.
She was trembling and watched him with over-bright eyes as he stripped her bare.
Kneeling between her spread legs, he looked his fill at the very heart of her. "Beautiful," he whispered, and stroked a gentle finger over her slick center as his thumb circled a clit that pulsed in time with her heart beat. "You're so ready, so wet for me. Is this nice, darlin'?
Want more?"
He inserted one finger, two, inside her and her flesh trapped and caught his fingers tight.
And all the while his thumb circled and then flicked twice across her clitoris and she bowed her spine and cried his name as she poured her release on his hand.
"That's it. Just like that. You look amazing. Yeah, keep it coming for me."
He kept stroking, circling, bringing her down nice and easy until she relaxed.
Her eyes were closed, her face flushed, her lips trembling with every exhale, every inhale.
She looked gorgeous.
Stunning.
Replete.
Naked.
His.
Her gaze studied his face, his chest, and lingered on the bulge between his legs. "You seem overdressed for this."
He grinned, whipped off his muscle shirt and tossed it.
His hands went to the button of his fly. "I need to contain him. When it comes to you, he's a wild man with no control."
"I remember. The condom wasn't really big enough for you."
Heat of mortification scorched his cheeks as he got rid of his combats, his Calvins.
"Don't remind me. In my defence it had been a while since I'd been with a woman."
When he ripped open a condom, she gave him big eyes. "Why?"
He slid on protection. "It's a time thing. I work hard. With you, I'm making up for lost time."
Before she could ask any more embarrassing questions, he was on top of her, his mouth on hers.
God, she tasted amazing.
The way her hands explored his shoulders, his back, and then his ass, her fingernails digging deep made him growl like an animal.
Hell, he felt like an animal.
"I don't know if I can take this slow," he admitted into the heavenly scent beneath her ear.
"Take me," she whispered.
He didn't need to be told twice.
His eyes on hers, he slid a hand beneath her knee and lifted it over his hip to open her wide to him. Then he plunged, deep, to the hilt and swore his eyes nearly rolled back in his head.
Christ.
She was so tight.
So hot.