In the Eye of the Storm

14. Silent Lips

Concentrate! Damn you, concentrate!

Um... on what did I have to concentrate again?

Getting away! You want to get away from that bastard who is using you!

Oh. That's right. I had almost forgotten that.

Once more, I pushed, harder this time. When that still didn't yield any results, I clenched my hand, and let my fist fly! It thudded uselessly against Mr Ambrose's rock-hard chest. Again, and again. I was pommelling him like a punching bag now, but his arms were still around me, and his lips, so soft, so seductive, still on mine. Damn him! He was as solid as a cliff, defying the waves of a thunderstorm. A cliff with a dozen splendidly naked male sirens on top, singing to me to come closer, to sink into the kiss, to stop fighting...

No! my inner feminist screamed. Bloody hell, no! Do something!

So I did. Reaching up, I slid my hands towards his head, grabbed hold of both his ears and pulled, hard!

'Arrr!'

To judge by the growl that escaped him, that seemed to work much better at getting his attention than punching him had. He lurched back, freeing my lips for the first time in I don't know how long. I sucked in a deep breath, in preparation for the insults I was going to fling at him. He deserved it! He deserved every bad name in the book! How dare he kiss me like that?

I opened my mouth to hurl the first expletive in his face – and then I was suddenly charging forward, kissing his face, his throat, his sculpted chin... every part of him that I could reach!

Good God! What the heck was I doing?

Good question, that! What about your feminist principles?

My hands slid up his hard body. For the first time since he had tackled me, I really had a chance to feel him, to explore the hard ridges of muscles under the black cotton. Blimey... To hell with my principles!

'How about this?' I whispered sweetly, letting go of his earlobes with my hands and taking one between my teeth instead, gently nibbling. 'Is this part of married life, too, Dick?'

'Do not,' he growled, his deep, ice-cold voice vibrating all the way through my body, 'call me that!'

I smiled against his skin, pressing a soft kiss on his earlobe. 'Just as you say, Dick!'

Suddenly, I was flying. In my shock I didn't understand what was happening, only seeing vague shapes of furniture rushing by, and only feeling his hands around my waste, lifting me higher and higher. A moment later, my back slammed into the wall, driving all the breath out of me.

'I told you,' he repeated, his voice even colder now, driving a hot surge of need up inside me, 'not to call me that. Understand?'

'Y-yes, Sir.'

His eyes blazed, flaming fires reflected on a stormy ocean. 'What is my name as long as we are here, Wife?'

'Richard!'

'Indeed it is. And for short?'

I contemplated the question for one breathless moment. Then, from between the wild strands of hair that had tumbled into my face, I grinned up at him, mischievously. 'Dick!'

He was on me in an instant. His tongue invaded my mouth, hungry and determined. I met it with my own this time, clashing, coiling, fighting for the right to rule. That didn't stop the hot waves of want from spreading down from my mouth all through my body. From the walls around us, the portraits of dignified Egyptian statesmen looked down at us disapprovingly. I couldn't give a flying fig for their opinion! Let them stare! I didn't even care for the moment that my inner feminist was swinging a protest sign. Later, I would care, I knew. Later, I would care like hell! But right now, he was kissing me and I was... floating. Blissfully.