Page 58 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
"It doesn't matter what you're offering." Her voice is even. Certain. Her chin comes up again. "I won't sell it."
The kitchen door opens and one of the guests walks in, probably looking for something.
"Get out," My voice is cold and commanding.
He takes one look at us, turns around and leaves.
Sienna looks at the closed door. Then at me. Her jaw is tight, her shoulders have squared and when she steps toward me this time there is nothing uncertain about it.
She comes close again. Close enough that I catch her perfume again, the warmth that lives under the floral. Her eyes are darker with anger. The same anger that is coloring her cheeks pink. And I can’t stop my dick from being hard as a rock.
"Who do you think you are?" Her voice stays low, trying to keep this contained from the party. But there is nothing soft in it. "You can't just bully people into doing what you want."
That word. Bully. Hits me hard.
"Watch it," I say.
She steps closer, stabbing my chest with her finger. Her chest rising and falling fast with angry breaths.
"Or what?”
I look at her finger. At her face. At the set of her jaw and the certainty in her eyes and the heat in them.
I have her face in both my hands before I've finished the thought.
There is no control left in me. I kiss her. My mouth is on hers and I feel her breath catch. And then she kisses me back.
Her hands come up to my chest, flat and pressing, and then she is pushing me away.
I let go.
We stand there. Both of us breathing too fast. Her lips are red. Her chest is moving. Her eyes are wide and on mine. I am looking back at her with no plan, no next move, no regret.
And yet, I'm about to apologize—
She looks at my mouth. Grabs my shirt. Pulls me down.
Her hands go behind my head, her mouth finds mine and I stop processing entirely. I pull her in by the hips, she comes without resistance, all of her against me and I walk her back against the counter. She doesn't stop me. Her fingers tighten in my hair. I put one hand flat on her lower back, press her to me so she can feel my desire and she arches into it making a low sound I feel through my whole chest.
My hands are at her waist, her back, sliding to the hem of her dress. Her fingers are at my collar, my shoulders, pulling me closer.
I’m in Charlotte's kitchen on a Sunday afternoon with a party on the other side of the wall, pressing Sienna Cross against the counter and I do not care about any of that at all.
I need to stop this insanity.
I break the kiss.
She's breathing fast. I'm worse. I put my forehead to hers. My hands are on her waist and I can feel her pulse under my thumbs, quick and unsteady. She is flushed and her fingers are still in my hair while she is looking at my mouth.
"Come with me," I say against her lips. "Let's get out of here."
I feel it happen. The shift is immediate. Her hands still. Her breathing changes. To a more controlled, slow and deliberate rhythm. Something inside her is pulling back before her body does.
She takes a step sideways. I almost follow.
Her hands go to her hair, her dress. Trying to find some composure.
"No," she says softly. "I can't."
