Give Me All Of You

by Delka Beazer

  Her eyes welled up with turbulence, the greens and browns luminescent with fractured emotions. He ached for the chance to settle her mind, to show her there was nothing to fear in a marriage between them.

  Frustrated, he groaned, it came out low and hungry, hinting at the possibility that he was about to lose control with her.

  She sensed it. Fear widened her eyes. A soft, despairing cry squeaked from between her lips which had fallen open. The pink tip of her tongue peaked shyly out at him from the soft lushness of her mouth.

  His nostrils flared as he devoured the tempting sight. A tremor went through him as he battled against the urge to reach out and taste her. Suck her pink tongue into his mouth, and pull every drop of sweetness from her body into his.

  A cry of refusal tore from her lips. Her body trembled in his grasp and without warning she ripped herself from his hold.

  He let her go. What he really wanted to do was to grind her to him, instead he took a step back and allowed her to skitter away like a frightened foal scenting danger.

  She placed several feet of distance between them.

  She flung a furious look at him. Her chest heaved. “I want your resignation,” her voice carried a violent edge like someone on the verge of falling apart emotionally, “and don’t ever touch me again,” she hissed.

  He’d had enough of her for one afternoon. He turned abruptly on the balls of his feet and began to walk away. He stopped a few paces out. Looked back over his shoulder.

  She was still staring angrily after him, her luscious mouth tight, her dark curls billowing out around her in a sudden gust of wind.

  She looked like an infuriated witch.

  Which wasn’t far from the truth.

  From the moment he’d met her face to face months ago in her father’s study, she’d made him feel things that he’d almost given up hope he could experience again.

  His breath went dry in his throat at the primal beauty she possessed even in the midst of her anger.

  Did she know what she did to him, to everyman within sight?

  He guessed not, the unaffected lines of her neck and the tilt of her slender body thrust aggressively towards him said anger not malicious vanity was controlling her now.

  Strangely he took a small comfort from that.

  He lifted his shoulders in a gesture of helplessness. “I can’t promise I’ll never touch you again, you are after all my fiancé. And I’ll have to take a pass on that resignation request but I’m having dinner with you and your father tonight. We can talk about it then if you prefer.”

  He continued in the direction of his men but not before he’d caught a glimpse of her confused face.

  It was a fair bet that she hadn’t known about tonight’s dinner.

  Just who was the true CEO of Bronswort hotel and resorts, Mina or her father? His mouth turned down at the corners. His money was on the latter. Still he couldn’t trust either of them.

  What the hell had he gotten himself involved in?

  Chapter two

  The cobbled pathway snaked towards the genteel one story house tucked within the bosom of numerous trees and flowering plants. The cornucopia of plants shielded both the home and its owner from the curious glances of outsiders.

  Mina grimaced with discomfort. Her throat prickled with apprehension as she neared the secluded front entrance.

  No pretty flowers could erase the turmoil which the woman beyond this door caused her. And today was her birthday.

  She sucked in a harsh breath and raised clenched knuckles.

  The door swung open before her knuckles could connect. Fresh daylight raced inward and illuminated the pretty scatter of pastel furniture in blues and soft pinks.

  Josephine’s eerily composed face smashed into her consciousness.

  Involuntarily Mina felt her mouth tighten painfully as the polite greeting she’d rehearsed countless times died on her lips.

  She heaved a breath but she couldn’t escape her mother’s mysterious, compelling stare.

  Josephine was both Indian and black, but everything except the rich bulk of her raven black braid twisted into a thick knot down her back decried her mixed blood.

  Her skin was the color of midnight, face a perfect moon, and dark, glossy eyes that were all the more startling for their forthrightness.

  She was stunning.

  “Hello Mina,” Josephine voice was a gravelly rasp, as sensuous and exotic as she was.

  Mina swallowed hard, forced the tighten muscles in her throat into compliance. “Happy birthday,” the words were flat, without the warmth that should’ve been expected from such a greeting.

  Mina stared at her mother, daring her to comment.

  She didn’t.

  Josephine tipped her head, showcasing the elegant line of her long neck in modest acknowledgement. Her eyes remained guarded. “You could’ve ignored my request and stayed home Mina.”

  Rattled by Josephine’s composer, she clenched her hands into impotent fists and ignored the statement. “Why did you ask me to come here?”

  Josephine’s eyes flickered away, a nervous gesture completely at odds with her aloof confidence. “There’s something I want to tell you.”

  Instantly Mina’s body tensed. What on earth could they possibly have to talk about? Any interest they once shared had vanished long ago, along with her painful childhood.

  “This isn’t the place to talk.” Josephine moved back, a flick of her hand, signaling that Mina should follow.

  Mina took in the sitting room. She’d been in it only a handful of times in the last two decades. It was still airy and inviting, the walls a soft, sunflower yellow. A small oval oak table sat in the middle of the room. A petite crystal bowl of white hibiscuses and two glasses with a frosted pitcher containing iced tea sat on its center.

  Mina perched on the tip of a deep blue sofa upholstered in Indian silk.

  Josephine bustled over to the table and poured them a drink.

  She gripped the proffered glass and watched as Josephine sat on the furthest side of the sofa.

  Josephine smiled at her. She didn’t return it. “I’m glad you’re here,” her voice wavered, “I would like if we could see each other more often.”

  Her insides clenched, then tore themselves apart. She closed her eyes and fought to breathe through the agony, to contain it.

  What Josephine had done to their family had destroyed her childhood. Had made her father into a cold, calculating monster bent on trading her for free labor and Josephine wanted to be friends?

  “Why?” It was all she could snarl without letting lose all the vile, invective filled curses which launched to mind.

  Josephine stiffened. “Mina, it’s just a request not a demand.”

  Mina watched her through slit lids. “I’m glad you got that right. The answer is No.”

  Josephine winced, the sound sharp in the still room. Her eyes were no longer distant, a wrenching smile pulled her lips apart. “You’re right, of course.”

  Mina sat galvanized into immobility. The last time she’d seen tangible emotions on Josephine’s face had been a lifetime ago. She’d been five years old then and she’d clung to Josephine’s skirt, begging her not to go.

  She squeezed her eyes closed until her temples began to throb. No matter how long it had been the pain hadn’t gone away.

  A warm touch jolted her from the abyss. She opened her eyes and found herself looking down into Josephine’s upturned, tortured face.

  She was kneeling before her, her regal face crumpled in agony, the whites of her eyes clashing shockingly against the rich darkness of her skin.

  “Please give me a chance-” Josephine croaked.

  Mina’s fingers opened and the glass of iced tea tumbled down, splashing her legs. The cold bite of the beverage went unheeded. She scooted back, away from Josephine’s haunted face.

  Scrambling to her feet she dashed for the door.

  This had been a huge mistake. One she’d never be so stupid to
repeat again.

  Josephine’s shrill cries echoed behind her. “Mina, please baby. Don’t go. She darted across the room.

  Mina turned her back on the oncoming rush. “Don’t touch me,” she cried savagely.

  Josephine whimpered. “Please. I’m sorry. Don’t go. There … there are things I need to tell you.”

  Mina’s entire body began shaking, she couldn’t mitigate the onslaught of emotions which came pounding through.

  She glared at Josephine’s distraught face. “I’ve spent years waiting for you to come back, and you never did,” her throat choked, blocked by the rush of tears which stung her eyes, her nose, she had only seconds left, “there’s nothing you can have to say to change what you’ve done.”

  Hours later that night Mina tugged her most ripped and worn cut-offs up the length of her legs. She hadn’t worn these old jeans in a long time. She smiled devilishly, thank God they still fit.

  Fastening the silver coated button at her waist, she stared into the mirror.

  Perfect.

  The moment she’d left Josephine’s home, she’d put their distasteful conversation from her mind. Turning instead to the upcoming night and the extra guest she hadn’t known about.

  She’d confronted Hermile about Hunter’s invitation to dinner. She hadn’t mentioned her earlier trip to Josephine’s.

  She and her father had an unspoken understanding, they never spoke of her mother.

  Hermile had been coldly indifferent to her demand to uninvite Hunter. Instead he’d ordered her presence at dinner or else.

  He hadn’t actually threatened her with usurping control of the business once more, but it had been there in his steely eyes.

  There’d been no choice but to go along for now.

  But that didn’t mean she had to do so quietly. She grinned with satisfaction as she examined her tousled, casual look in the mirror.

  A thin, artfully rumpled cotton blouse with a deep v neck completed her look which showed the lacy edge of her black bra. She’d left her hair lose, letting it coil down her back and around her shoulders in riotous disarray.

  She shrugged. It was a childish attempt at revenge but at least for once she’d be comfortable for dinner.

  Hermile had always insisted on formal clothing. She slipped her feet into light leather sandals and quickly fastened the tongs around her ankles. Without a backward glance she skipped from her room.

  Her fingers tightened on the banister at the top of the wide, gleaming staircase. Ears perked she immediately caught the tone of a low pitched conversation being carried on at the bottom of the long stairs.

  She listened harder. Nothing. Their pitch was too low for the words to be discernible.

  Interesting. What could Hunter and her father have to talk about behind her back?

  But there was no time to dwell on that. Head high, she descended the stairs.

  She kept her eyes straight ahead and chewed her bottom lip.

  Both Hunter and Hermile were dressed in pleated slats and buttoned up shirt with dark jackets.

  Hunter’s jacket was navy blue, an exact replica of his intense eyes.

  His brows rose only marginally at her casual attire but he said nothing.

  She studiously avoided Hermile’s heated glare which she could feel burning sink holes into her skin.

  She sped up trying to beat both of them to the dining room but Hermile, every mobile and dangerous in his custom wheel chair, adroitly cut in front of her, blocking her path.

  She had to stop.

  Hermile gripped her arm and yanked her roughly. “Just what the hell kind of joke is this?” he hissed, waving a hand at her get-up.

  Mina quirked a naughty brow, “my clothes,” she replied sweet as honey, batting her eyelashes at him in innocent confusion.

  “Get back into your room and change for dinner. Now!” Hermile barked, his voice barely contained within a whisper.

  Mina jerked in his grasp, but he didn’t release her. Mortified she risked a glance at Hunter, and was stunned by the tautness of his body. His eyes raked hers, asking a question, uneasy she turned quickly away and glared down into her father’s stony eyes. “I’m wearing my dinner attire and if you don’t like it, you’ll have to excuse me this evening,” she grated out, daring him to do anything else. For long, tense moments they silently battled each other.

  Abruptly Hermile changed tactics, the anger faded from his eyes and his hand fell away from her arm.

  “You’re going to fight me every step of the way, aren’t you?” he contemplated her carefully.

  Her mouth creased into a sneer. “Tell Hunter to get out and take his dumb offer with him and I’ll put on my best dress for dinner.” Her cheeks burned with embarrassment but she refused to look at Hunter who hadn’t made a sound at her incredibly rude pronouncement.

  Hermile studied her as if she was a lost cause, without comment he wheeled himself to the head of the long, ornate dining table.

  Humiliated she met Hunter’s eyes but there was no anger in them … It was as if he hadn’t been paying even the slightest attention. He was watching her father and there was an unmistakable light of pity in his eyes.

  Any regret about her harsh words immediately vanished.

  Her eyes narrowed as a thought began to fester. She was done sitting back and letting the two of them yank her life back and forth.

  Their server came quietly through the door which led to the kitchen. A delicate tureen of aromatic soup balanced carefully on a silver tray.

  She reached for her napkin and her face began tickling, the sensation snaked from her scalp down her cheekbones and coiled around her chest. Her nipples contracted without warning, she sucked in hot breath but kept her head bent.

  No parent’s gaze could cause such havoc.

  Hunter was watching her.

  Eyes still downcast, she dipped forward slowly, ostentatiously to reach her napkin. As intended the light cotton of her shirt gave way, rolling down, parting from her skin until the first touch of warm air kissed the top of her breasts.

  A strangled sound came from a across the table. She looked up then and was taken aback by the yawning hunger reflected in her Hunter’s eyes.

  Pulled to it against her will she searched his eyes deeper. They were like endlessly deep pools of hunger, ambition, and an iron will.

  Why hadn’t she thought of this before? Using his strengths against him?

  Maintaining contact she allowed a small smile to lift the corners of her lips.

  Hunter’s eyes changed from need to anger in a blink, his mouth thinned with disapproval.

  Unrepentant she lowered her eyes to her half-filled soup bowl.

  Too bad.

  She would fight as dirty as he was with every weapon at her disposal.

  Chapter three

  Hunter followed Mina silently up the stairs, through quiet, darkened hallways. Windows ran along all the hallways letting in gray shadows of moonlight. Stepping into her office, an ethereal glow hovered about the room.

  He’d been in here only once before. His eyes landed on his favorite feature. The massive windows which ran along the outer wall of her office. Tonight they were open, letting in cool night air.

  He paused to savor the scent of the sea and flowers which rode lazily on the wind.

  A twisted smile curled his lips. He’d do anything to delay facing the little terror in front of him and whatever plans she’d cooked up.

  Mina slipped into an imposing leather chair behind an equally stern looking desk.

  One soft lamp sat at the corner of the desk, framing its spotless surface. It clearly illuminated the satisfied smirk on Mina’s lovely face.

  As she’d intended.

  He was annoyed. “Why did you ask for this impromptu meeting,” he made a show of checking his watch, “11:30 at night?”

  Her eyes twinkled, making her irresistible, she laughed softly. Shivers ran up his spine at the huskiness in her voice.

  His annoyance
grew by leaps and bounds, he eyed her hard. “Out with it Mina. I’m in no mood to be toyed with any longer.”

  She eyed him with feigned innocence, his mouth firmed and she dropped the act. She reclined in her seat and the leather purred beneath her weight

  Unbidden a picture of her astride him, slick with sweat, her eyes wild, his body buried inside hers, caught him off guard. A jolt of pure desire knifed through him, making his tongue roll back into his throat.

  She pursed her lips invitingly, unaware of the change in his body. “I’ve got a proposition for you, something not so … financially worthless as my father’s proposal.”

  He stamped down his unruly libido. A dozen thoughts zapped through his mind. Alert but far from comfortable he splayed his legs further apart, jammed his hands into his trouser pockets and waited.

  Dinner had been a torment. Watching her sip delicately at her soup, following the tip of her tongue as she’d unobtrusively catch errant spots of red wine on her lips had nearly made him reach for himself. His ears burned in remembered embarrassment. At thirty-five he’d sampled many women but he’d never been made to wait for one.

  All thanks to Hermile Bronswort’s fanatical protectiveness of Mina and a swell of unusual reluctance which made him curb his baser instincts the few times he’d been alone with her.

  She never showed it throughout dinner, but she’d known he’d been watching her. Every now and again she would lean forward just enough and he’d catch a glimpse of the lacy top of her black bra.

  Was she wearing the matching bottom? He groaned silently at the delectable thought. The lingering steel of his arousal reacted instantly and pulsed uncomfortably against his navel.

  His campaign for her hand had been going on for six painful months. How much longer would he have to wait for her to give him a chance?

  He cleared his throat. “You want to make me a better offer than your father?” his voice came out rusty, he winced. Was he really this susceptible to her charms? He ignored the answer to that question.

  The smile on her soft lips faltered but she kept her gaze fixed on him. “I’m offering you carte blanche over the operations on Jacobe Aisle. I’ll disappear from your work life, so will my father.”