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"You growled." She draws in a breath, and her spectacular bosom rises and falls. She juts out her chin, and her defiance is so fucking cute. So endearing. So… Adorable. A-n-d, I need to get her out of here before I say or do something that could spoil the chances of her accepting the proposal I have for her.
She folds her arms across her chest. "If you think you can stake your claim by acting all possessive?—"
"That was not acting possessive." I unfold my length and straighten, so she has to tilt her head back to look at me. "This is." I bend and scoop her up in my arms.
"What the—!?" She begins to struggle in my grasp. "What are you doing?"
"Getting you out of here to somewhere we can talk."
"Put me down." She slaps my chest. "You can’t be this… This…"
"Overbearing?"
"Arrogant," she hisses.
"Don’t you mean dominating?"
"Egoistical." She begins to struggle in my arms.
"I am all that, and more."
"You’re drawing attention to us," she snaps.
"No, you are. Hush now. Stop struggling, and everyone will assume we’re married and I’m carrying you off to our honeymoon."
She stills, and when I glance down, I find her features pinched. There’s a look of anger and helplessness in her green eyes. She must be remembering what happened at the church earlier. She lowers her chin, her lips are curved down, and goddam, but I don’t want her to look this unhappy, this defeated. I want her to fight back at what happened.
I want her to fight me. I want her to show her mettle. I want her to stand up for herself. If I push her, she’ll react. That way, I’ll know what she wants. That way, I can give her what she needs. But she’s got to have fire in her to make it worthwhile for me, and to make it satisfying for her... Because she could be the perfect submissive.
Is this why I’m so drawn to her? Did I sense the hidden need in her to submit to the right master? Did the dominant in me take one look and know she was it? Is that why I proposed to her as soon as I saw the opportunity?
As if she senses my thoughts, she tightens her hold about my shoulders. Instinctively, I cradle her closer. Her weight feels perfect against my chest. I could hold her like this forever.
"I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that," I say in a low voice.
When she doesn’t reply, I blow out a breath. Felix may have been the one who stood her up, but I feel responsible for his behavior. I need to make it up to her. Need to put things right with her. "What happened at the church was unpardonable. He shouldn’t have done that."
"And what about what you did?" She scowls at me.
I hesitate. "What if I tell you I don't regret it?"
She frowns, and I sense she’s digesting what I said.
I carry her out of the pub and to my car, then lower her to her feet. A gust of wind blows the tendrils which have come loose from her hair around her face. She sways, and I keep my arm about her.
"I’m not drrr...u-nk." She spoils the effect by slurring her words, then giggles. “Oops." She takes a deep breath and tries again. "Guess, I am drunk, and embarrassed."
"I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to embarrass you, but I want to speak with you in a place where we don’t have an audience."
"And I don’t want to speak with you." She sets her jaw.
"Give me a chance to outline what I have in mind,” I plead.
"And if I don’t care?"
"I think you’ll want to listen to my offer before you decide."
"Offer?" She frowns.
