by Lisa Torquay
In a brusque movement, Mark rose from the table so quickly that the chair fell back. He walked out of the dining room.
She saw him walking away and was at a loss what to do. After a couple of seconds she followed him.
He was striding the sitting room as a jailed panther. A very tall one, by the way. He watched her coming but didn’t stop. His hands raked his dark hair.
“I-I’m sorry.” She babbled. “I just meant to be polite and...”
“Grateful?” He stopped abruptly and stared directly at those translucent honey pools. Two steps and he stood merely inches from her. He grabbed her forearm and pulled her to him.
Her soft lush body shocked with his and she looked up at his angry glance in bewilderment. Her lips parted in surprise. She was going to say ‘appropriate’ but it never came out.
He bent slightly over her in a possessive gesture. “Exactly how grateful have you been lately?” She bent back instinctively, which made their midriffs almost touch.
Her heart raced dementedly, her breath became unsteady and she wasn’t able to discern if it was awe or arousal. “There wasn’t a single drop of thankfulness in me when we...interacted.” She lacked a better word for that devastating flame they shared. Her eyes met his hard and as angry.
He breathed out a sour grin of disbelief. “And you’re going to tell me that it never occurred to you that we, this is...eccentric!” Now he was holding her both shoulders and his eyes bored into her very soul. He tried to fight back the desire that was threatening to break free.
“I don’t give a damn to what’s eccentric or conservative!” She could feel his irregular breath on her cheeks. Of course she would absolutely never confess to him that she had had a crush on him the first year she was living in the Georgian mansion. It was difficult enough to admit it to herself, even at that moment.
“What is this? A rebellious remnant from university days?” His eyes hovered over her face and stuck on her full parted lips. Body-language and rational communication mingled in both of them.
Hearing this made her rage rise. She jerked from his grip and put distance between them. “It never, ever, crossed my mind that this was any different from anything else.” She tried to imprint steadiness to her voice. But she still breathed hard. “If you have doubts about this, all you have to do is to talk it over like any civilised person.” She faced him for long seconds before she whirled and rushed upstairs.
Talk it over? He thought, his eyes following her up. As far as he could see, clear thought was never a trait between them. He lost all vestige of control when she was around. Blazing passion just overtook him and led him to dissolve himself in her with urgency. Exactly as he wanted to do now. The whole night. All nights.
Amy was completely off-balance when she reached her room. It was a strain to hold back her need for him and having an argument on top of that didn’t make it any easier. She sat on her bed and put her face on her hands. It was clear to her that she had caused him to think that she felt only gratefulness for him when they last talked in Nice. And his reaction tonight had been explosive, as expected. Oh, dear! That was going to be a restless night.
Mark went to his study and made a feeble attempt to do some work but his concentration tended to zero. All he could think of was that he wanted to go up to her, feel her warmth, her softness, her scent. He wouldn’t dare, though. Not after this exchange of harsh words. He’d better put himself together and endure a night of unreachable closeness.
Next morning when he met her at breakfast, she was dressed up, ready to leave. The night had proven to be unendurable, actually. The need for her had reached peaks of desperation and more than once he walked to her door to beg her for mercy. The only thing that had stopped him was his self-respect.
“Good morning.” A thin layer of politeness covered his voice and his manners.
Amy looked at his exhausted face. She had had a broken sleep full of unsatisfied need. She was glad when morning light rose and she could set the day in motion. “Good morning.”
“What time are you leaving?” He took a seat in front of her.
“Soon.” She sipped her coffee. She had already bid farewell to Mrs Smith, who was very sad she was leaving.
“I’ll drive you.” He poured coffee to his cup.
“Thank you, but I’ve called a cab.” They avoided staring at each other.
“Fine.” He murmured, disappointed to be deprived of a little more time with her.
The bell rang. “It must be the driver.” She said. She looked at him with a neutral expression on her face. “Good bye.”
He stared at her intently, wanting to go to her and kiss her infinitely. “Good bye.” He wanted her to stay. He wanted to hold her tight, prevent her from going. But he just sat still, watching her slip away. Again.
After merging her gaze with his for long seconds, she rose to her feet and left.
Chapter XV
A very busy week went by for Amy in Nice and, finishing her day on Friday, all she thought about was spending her weekend languishing on the beach. She sat in her home-office typing the last of her spread sheets when the bell rang. She was expecting nobody; she dressed just shorts and a tank-top; a pony-tail held her cinnamon hair.
As she opened the door goose-bumps spread all over her. Mark. He was standing legs apart, holding a small bag in one hand and the other casually tucked in his pocket. She looked up at him dominating the door-frame, fire rushing in her blood.
They only stood there staring at each other, unable to move. Mark hadn’t been able to hold back for a single second more. The urge to see her was far stronger than him. After hesitating for long hours, he called his crew to his jet and took off, counting the minutes to stand at her door-step. He hadn’t got the slightest idea of what he would tell her. Nevertheless he had plenty of time to think of it during the flight.
Amy struggled to take possession of herself and stop looking at his magnificent figure. She opened the door wider so that he could come in. His tall muscular body was dressed in black tailored trousers and dark-green shirt. He strode into her house as a panther.
Mark watched her close the door and his attention measured her from top to toes in detailed scrutiny. Her languid eyes, her sensuous mouth, her full breasts, her round hips. He didn’t want to be polite or civilized. He just wanted to grab her and take her to bed. Straight away! The thought reverberated directly on his loins.
“I didn’t disappear this time for you to come looking for me.” Putting on a little bravado was her way of covering her reaction to him.
Disappear, yes, he thought. He wished she had disappeared from his dreams, from his heart. From his blood! “Well, a company owner is entitled to meet his biggest shareholder.” He put his hands in his pockets as his legs went apart and he angled his gaze in much too a familiar way.
She crossed her arms and shifted the weight to one leg, eyeing him suspiciously. “Is there any problem?” The effects of his angled stare hadn’t changed. It still incited her to lie down for him. Only now she was more capable of keeping it under tight control.
Yes! Mark thought. There is a problem: I can’t live without you! Damned hell! “Not that I know of.” He answered nonchalant. “Actually, I have a business proposition for you.” He held the suspense and watched her reaction as a feline ready to strike.
“And it couldn’t be done by e-mail?” She challenged him.
A chess player, indeed, he concluded. “I need a prompt answer.” The more she challenged him, the more he wanted her. Under him. Naked.
A call then, she retorted silently. But let’s see what the stubborn man had for her. “Take a seat.” She offered. As he sat, his feline eyes never left her. A shiver was the gift she got from it. “Coffee?”
“Thanks.” His feet felt the fluffy carpet and he looked down. Memories of them there invaded his mind as a Tsunami. He wished memories repeated themselves as reality.
A few minutes later she re-entered the sitting room with a t
ray. And she had changed into tailored trousers and a chemise. Better for his clear mind, worse for his...
“So, what is it about?” Her question saved him from his stray thoughts.
He took the cup from her hand sipped from it and rested it on the side table. “I want to hire your HR consultancy to implement some projects for MBS.
Amy stared at him surprised. That was business talk indeed. “What does MBS need exactly?”
“As you well know, we are growing fast.” His fingers joined together on his open thighs and he looked at them as he talked. “I want your company to keep an on-going feedback on and from employees; to do headhunting, fast-tracking and establish a mentoring system so as to identify and retain the best leaders.”
She was nodding at his listing and said: “Alright. Sounds exciting.” It’d be a motivating challenge for her to acquire a company as large as MBS as a client. It’d give her consultancy the right impulse for growth and consolidation.
“There are some conditions though.” His voice became velvety, too velvety; and he glanced at her as a predator.
“Shoot.” She said just waiting for him to drop the bomb.
“You’d have to settle your headquarters in our building and personally lead the projects.” He paused and eyed her straight in her eyes. “And live in the Georgian mansion.”
Of course he wouldn’t let her fly free, would he? “What about my business here?”
“Hire a manager; sell it, your choice. He shrugged as it had no importance whatsoever.
“And if I refuse...?”
“You’ll miss a great opportunity for your business.” He shrugged again as if he didn’t care.
But his dismissive behaviour didn’t mislead her for a fraction of second. She knew him. Only too well. The possessive freak!
“I’ll hire a manager here.” She countered. “I’ll offer the position to Travis.” She lifted her chin defiant.
Mark narrowed his predator’s eyes. He knew Travis was a rising star and the perfect name for the job, but still... “Your task will be to headhunt into MBS, not out of it!”
She chuckled and crossed her arms. “So?”
“I compromise.” She was teaching him how to let go. She was teaching him to tame his possessiveness. The woman was nothing short of a field-general! He smiled inwardly. And he valued her even more for that.
“And I won’t live in the Georgian mansion. I’ll buy my own place in London.” She pushed further.
He sat back and spread his arms along the sofa back. “This is not negotiable.” His gaze bore directly into her deep eyes, irreducible.
She sighed in a clear sign of retreat. “Agreed. When do you want it started?”
“Monday.” Was his unblinking answer.
“But that’s too soon!” She exclaimed exasperated.
“I know you can do it.” His grave sardonic voice echoed in her nerves. He wouldn’t wait another day to have her back at the Georgian mansion.
Holy Heaven! She had loads to do, she thought, in distress. “Excuse me. I’ll have to start now.” She told him going to her home-office.
“Be my guest.” She heard the smugness distinctly in his tone.
Travis was gladly surprised to hear the offer and said he’d go through the formalities of the contract as an employee with MBS before starting with her.
Amy worked late writing e-mails, sending reports and preparing for Travis to take over. Mark came to say he’d occupy the spare room and would leave in the morning. She agreed distractedly. Work took her over and she had nearly forgotten all about him.
Mark decided to leave next morning. A strategic retreat, so to say, lest she changed her mind. He didn’t think she’d even notice it as she was so engrossed in her work. But he was satisfied. Only too satisfied. The perspective of having her back under his roof made him wrench in flammable need.
The days that followed were the busiest Amy could remember. Monday was, naturally, too soon and Amy warned Mark that it wouldn’t happen. Nevertheless, a week later she was installed in her new office in London and already preparing the first actions regarding MBS. She and Travis McDougal had a number of meetings to prepare him for Nice. Mark had released him from the contract clauses and he was able to travel in a couple of days. The whole moving felt like a windstorm for Amy and she was exhausted.
Seeing her with that much workload kept Mark wondering whether he hadn’t pushed her too far. A faint voice in the back of his mind said he had. Nonetheless, she was re-installed in the Georgian mansion. One of the upstairs rooms was transformed in her study, where she had been spending a lot of time. And she was there, near him, from where she should never have taken off.
A couple of days later Mark arrived home from work. He had looked for Amy in her office so that they could come together, but he was informed that she had already left. As he entered the cosily decorated sitting room he saw Amy. She had her head fallen back on the sofa cushion, a forgotten book on her lap. Her features were relaxed as she slept oblivious to everything around. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, as the weather was pleasant. Mark felt a sting of guilt at the sight of her. She looked so exhausted.
He approximated her and touched her delicately on her shoulder. She never stirred. He decided to take her up. Carefully he slipped one arm under her spine and one under her knees. He lifted her without much effort. The movement awoke her slightly.
“Mark.” She murmured; her eyelids hoisted faintly.
“I’m taking you to my bed.” He said at the foot of the stairs.
“Hmmm.” She agreed. Sleeping, her arms laced his neck and her head leaned on his powerful chest.
He set her with utter care on his bed and covered her as she was a precious thing. She turned to her side and immersed in immediate deep sleep. He showered, put on boxer-shorts and lay near her holding and protecting her repose. He inhaled the flowery scent of her cinnamon silky curls as he dived his face in them. He heard her moan content in her oblivion. Soon he was taken by the most repairing sleep he had had in weeks.
Mark awoke with the sun filtering through the curtains, he lay on his side. First thing he looked for was Amy, who had her head nested on his broad chest, her cinnamon silky curls spread on the pillow. She turned in her sleep and lay on her back, upper body uncovered. Her tank-top revealed more than hid her tempting full breasts. He lifted on his elbow to look intently at her. He could lie there the whole day, his whole life, looking at her.
She opened her huge eyes and turned to him. As his focus on her, undercurrent communication established itself between them. Mark’s body responded with ardent intensity.
Amy couldn’t take her eyes from him. His broad chest carpeted with soft fleece was all there for her eyes to feast upon. Blazing rivers ran inside her, her body missing and recognising him. Without breaking eye-contact, her foot rose to caress his potent thigh. Her leg intertwined with his.
Mark’s hand came to her chest. A light finger caressed her creamy soft skin, lowering her top to disclose her breast. His mouth came to the nipple to suckle on it. A shock of sensation clashed with her skin, her eyes closed, her throat moaned. He lifted his head and looked at her, his body ready for her. He laced her waist with one arm and a hand went under her neck. He claimed her lips in a deep ravishing kiss. Her hands held his biceps, of which she couldn’t grab one-third.
He kissed her over and over again with a long fermented hunger. Their bodies entangled in every possible way. Heaving, he tore her tiny, thin-fabric shorts, revealing her feminine curves. His mouth left hers to trail fiery kisses down her throat, her chest, over her top, down her navel, until it found the core of her, eager and wet. She writhed under him as his tongue unveiled all her secrets. Insistently.
This is where he wanted her: in his house, in his bed, all around him. The passion she ignited in him was too consuming to understand. So he stopped trying to. He just needed to lose himself in her, like there was no tomorrow. Because being with her, being in her was what
made him feel alive, was what kept him alive.
His tongue drilled her into extremes. She wouldn’t hold it for long now. “Mark!” She called in urge, panting. If this was not an addiction, Amy didn’t know what it was. Her guts were wringing for him. It had been an endless longing, like a walk through the desert. And now she was back home. He was her home.
He didn’t need to be called twice. He rose to kneel on the mattress and boldly lowered his boxer-shorts to display his notable hard-as-a-rock member. He lay over her and their entire bodies touched. He passed his arms under her so as to embrace her tightly. His tongue invaded her mouth the same way he drove deep and slow into her. The sensation was so pleasurable that she moaned helpless in his mouth. She circled his hips with her legs and held him tight with her arms.
She revelled in the multiple sensations he presented her with. His arms made her feel safe, warm. Wanted. His kisses and his movements were provoking a short-circuit in her nerves. His touch went so much further than her skin. She gave herself to him entirely, without reserves, letting him take what he willed...as he willed it.
As he moved deeper and deeper she was pushed further over the edge. She broke their kiss in need of air for her ragged breath. Her body arched more for him and his lips found her breast, which they grabbed and devoured. It triggered a web of fire through her, impossible to keep neat. She felt the ball of fire nearer and nearer. Finally her body bolted with flashes and more flashes of climax, clipping him mercilessly.
He lost control, driving madly in her. His head buried in the curve of her throat. He thrust quicker, panting and grunting, desperate for release. And it came, spilling fire through him, draining him of all he had. He fell on her, satiated.
They lay snuggling for a long time, abandoned in each other.
Chapter XVI
They were sitting at the breakfast table. Both very late for work, but neither cared. Mark felt so released and satiated that his body had refused to move for a long time that morning. In reality he wanted to stay in bed with her all day. There were pressing matters in the office he had to take care of, though.
