Robert’s free hand lands on my lower back, and he presses our bodies tighter as he deepens the kiss. My skin is on fire and the ocean water laps coolly against me. I’m not stopping him.
My hands lay against his chest but they don’t push. They just lay there—it’s almost like I enjoy the way he feels. As if maybe this feels good. Really good.
This is insane, a voice in my head says, but the rush of blood in my ears drowns it out. The kiss started out demanding—commanding. A promise that I would be kissed, but as time spins on with the soft sea lapping at us it grows softer, more intimate, less urgent. More dangerous.
Robert pulls back and looks down into my eyes. We see each other. Killers. Murderers. Willing to do whatever it takes to get what we want.
Robert sees me. Sees all my brokenness and he…loves me for it. Mulberry loves me for my courage. Robert loves me for my flaws.
He leans down again, his lips finding mine and it isn’t strange. It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels good.
I want this…I do. My hands find his shoulders and I run my fingers over them, tracing the lines of muscles, letting myself explore this magnetic enigma of a man whom I’ve hated, loved, loathed, and baited. Through all of it he kept coming at me. A storm crossing over parched desert, flooding the world to reach me.
His intensity comes through in his touch. The way he plays the piano, those long fingers dancing over the keys with confidence and joy—that’s how he handles me. Sure, rhythmic, and adoring.
“Sydney,” he says, his voice raw, his lips hovering just over mine.
Before I can respond Blue barks. Robert’s grip on me tightens, his body pressing closer, his lips falling on mine again, that urgency returning. He’s afraid. Afraid I’ll stop. Afraid I’ll leave him again.
His fear matches my own pain, my own fear of loss. Blue barks again. Footsteps sound on the boards of the walkway leading to our bungalow. Robert looks up, glaring at the underside of the building. “I will kill them,” he growls. The whisper of a smile plays on my lips.
A knock sounds on the door. Robert doesn’t move, his gaze locked on where the person stands above us. Which affords me the opportunity to inspect him, to admire the beard coating his jaw, the silver at his temples, the column of his throat. Leaning forward, I lay my lips against the skin over his collar bone, and his breath catches.
Power surges through me. I can own him. All this time I feared him claiming me…I didn’t realize I wanted to own him, too. The aphrodisiac of control and power makes me light-headed as I run my tongue up his throat.
Robert drops his head back, granting me more access. I nip him, drawing another sound—something I’ve never heard from him before. Surprise. Fuck. Surprising Robert Maxim…is hot.
“Sir, it’s Brock. We have a problem.”
Robert doesn’t answer his head of security. Instead he lets a hand wander up and find my breast. I run my hands up into his hair and pull him down for another kiss—the first one between us I’ve ever started.
I just crossed a line.
Robert growls against me, an approving sound. As if he’s been waiting for me to cross that line. He’s lain awake at night plotting how to get me to cross that line. It sounds like a growl of victory. He wraps me up in his arms, holding me even tighter, kissing me even deeper.
“Sir.” Brock’s voice breaks through the rush of sound in my head—heart hammering, blood pumping. Fuck, this is intense.
Robert breaks the kiss but his hands hold me tight. I’m not going anywhere. “Brock,” he says, sounding impressively calm for a man on the precipice of getting something he has hunted for years. “Go the fuck away.”
“Sir.” Brock clears his throat, stepping back from the door but not leaving. “We have a problem.”
Robert’s jaw ticks. “Are we in danger?”
“Yes.”
“Imminent?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck.”
His gaze drops to mine. Robert’s eyes are twin blue-green flames, his lips a line of anger. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen him so angry—I’m not sure I’ve ever seen this much emotion on his face.
He rolls his lips before speaking. “This isn’t over.” He says it low and dangerous.
The smile that crests my lips feels like pure power and Robert’s gaze ignites. His mouth crushes against mine again, trying to wipe that smile off my face but he can’t. I have the power here. I’m the one who owns him…not the other way around.
“Sir,” Brock says again, his voice taking on a bit of an edge—as if time is pressing against it.
Robert breaks the kiss and takes a slow breath. Then he moves away from me, the water rushing in to replace him. He turns, taking my hand, as if to lead me back to the steps…and I let him. I don’t pull away, point out I can make it back there just fine on my own. I let him take my hand, enjoy the sensation of his fingers through mine.
We step out of the shade and back into the sunlight. That’s when I realize I’m going to have to climb out of the water totally naked in front of him. Yes, we were just making out naked but we had the screen of the water. “Ladies first,” he says, with an evil smile that makes me laugh.
“Go ahead,” I say. “I insist.”
He winks at me and my heart stutters just a little from how fucking sexy that is…then he lets go of my hand and hauls himself out of the water. I watch. I watch every movement, every step. He isn’t shy and he isn’t hiding. When Robert reaches the deck and looks back at me, he doesn’t grab a towel. He doesn’t go inside. And I recognize my misstep.
“Come on,” he says. “We are in imminent danger.”
Of having sex. Yes, that is definitely on the table. On the bed. On the…no. I’m not doing that. It’s not smart. And if there is one thing people say about Sydney Rye…it’s that she always does the “smart” thing.
I swallow and start up the steps. They spiral up so that by the time I reach the top, Robert has seen me from every angle. I force myself to meet his gaze even though I just want to rush for my robe. His eyes are burning and he closes the distance between us in one long stride, pulling me close—our wet skin meeting and pressing as he kisses me.
Blue barks, reminding us that Brock is still at the door. We break apart. Robert’s hair falls over his brow as he looks down at me. “This isn’t over,” he says again.
I give him that power smile once more—the one that makes me feel like I own him and apparently makes him want to kiss me again because he does. This time I push him away. “We have to go,” I say.
He nods, presses his lips against mine one more quick time and then turns to gather his clothing. I slip on my robe and go inside, heading to the bathroom for my own clothes. My cheeks are hot, my body humming. Did I just do that? What the fuck am I going to do next?