Penmort Castle (Ghosts and Reincarnation #1)(48)
Author: Kristen Ashley

She bent over the bed, shoving everything into her purse and snapping it shut. Then she straightened, turned to run downstairs and instead ran headlong into Cash.

Her body jerked back but his hands came to settle on her h*ps to hold her where she was.

She tilted her head to look at him, surprised he was there and opened her mouth to speak but he got there first.

“I see they aren’t finished with the bathroom,” he remarked.

Abby stared at him.

She didn’t know what to make of this. His handsome face was closed, his eyes cold and he looked remote. Abby knew, without knowing why she knew, that this meant he was angry.

Very angry.

Scary angry.

Yet his comment was bland.

And he was there. And he hadn’t yet fired her. Not that she’d given him a chance, but still.

“They say it’ll be done tomorrow,” Abby informed him.

Keen to get on with the evening and out of her bedroom, she started to move around him but his fingers tensed at her h*ps and she stopped.

Her head tipped back in question. “Cash, we should –”

He cut her off by saying, “A minute.”

She looked at him and his eyes held her captive as one of his hands moved lightly over her bottom.

“Cash, what are you –?” she started but he cut her off again.

“You’re wearing underwear,” he told her.

Abby’s breath froze in her lungs.

Oh dear Lord, she forgot about the underwear.

Then she felt her pulse beating in her neck.

“Cash –” she began.

“Take it off,” he ordered and she blinked in stunned surprise.

“What?” she breathed.

“Take them off,” he repeated.

Abby felt a thrill run up her spine and it wasn’t the usual thrill Cash gave her or at least not entirely.

In a pleading whisper, she begged, “Cash, please don’t make me –”

He interrupted her again, his voice patient but barely so, “Abby, take them off.”

Abby felt her spine go ramrod straight, thinking he couldn’t make her not wear underwear. And if he tried, he could have the damned bracelet back.

“No,” she replied, her voice had grown cold.

His head tilted to the side, something dangerous flashed in his eyes and he asked softly, “No?”

Being stupid (but brave, she told herself) in the face of obvious peril, Abby held her ground and repeated, “No.”

He gazed at her for a moment then two then he replied quietly, “All right Abby.”

She felt her body relax.

He’d given in. He wasn’t going to make her do something which made her uncomfortable. And she had the fleeting thought maybe it was all going to be okay.

She had this thought right before his head bent, his arms went around her tight and he kissed her.

It wasn’t like any kiss he’d given before. It was hot, demanding and very effective but it was also hard and claiming, taking everything but giving nothing in return.

It still, unfortunately, worked on Abby because it came with the scent of him, the feel of him and the memory of how good they could be.

When her arms went around his neck, signifying her not-very-hard-won capitulation, he shifted. They fell, him on his back, her on top of him, to the bed.

He rolled immediately, pinning her under him, not giving her a chance to think, only feel.

His mouth was on hers then it was on her neck just under and behind her ear, a sensitive spot that he manipulated ruthlessly.

His hands were all over her, smoothing over the wool at her side, her hip, up her midriff then his thumb caught against her hard nipple making sweet sensations shoot through her. At the feel of them, her neck arched as she gasped and his thumb stroked back then again, and again.

When she was trembling under him, his thigh went between her legs, his knee pulling up her dress as his hand went down her belly. His fingers took over for his knee and yanked the skirt of her dress up and then they were there, in her panties, she felt them sliding against her and his touch rocketed heat straight through her.

“Wet,” he murmured, his mouth touching hers, his word shivering through her.

Then his fingers moved and all she could think of was what they were doing, how they were making her feel, how delicious it felt and then one slid inside.

“Cash,” she gasped, pressing against him, her hands roaming his body urgently and then clutching at him as her h*ps bucked, riding his hand as his finger moved in and out, his thumb circling magnificently at the exact perfect spot.

Somewhere in the back of her head it registered that he was holding himself away even as he held her close, his hand between her legs, his other arm wrapped tight around her, his face buried in her neck.

But before this thought could intrude, Cash forced her response and it shot through her, her neck and back arching, her h*ps rearing against his hand. She heard the soft, low noises she made as if from far away as her body exhilarated in the glorious orgasm he’d given her.

And when she was done, breath coming fast, her hands still clenched in his suit jacket, his fingers left her and, she couldn’t help it, that felt good too and she let out a soft moan. His hand glided over her hip to her bottom, pressing her against him as he held her until her trembling stopped.

“Now, darling,” his voice rumbled roughly against her neck, “that was worth a diamond bracelet.”

Her body went still at his words but he didn’t notice, or worse, didn’t care.

He pulled away, exited the bed, leaned over and tugged her dress down. Then he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet at the side of the bed.

Her legs were shaky, not only from her cl**ax but also her emotion. Her head tilted back to look at him and when her eyes caught his, his were still cold.

And that coldness froze the heat right out of her, chilling her to her core.

“Fix your hair,” he ordered. “I’ll meet you at the door.”

On that, without a word or touch, he turned and left.

Abby stared after him until he disappeared.

Then she stared some more.

Then she realised throughout the time they’d been together he’d never treated her like a whore. Not once. Not with the robes, not with the bracelet, not with all of his orders to be somewhere or do something.

She knew this because with what he’d just done, he treated her like a whore.

On unsteady legs, she went to her dressing table, smoothed back her hair and re-clipped the barrette firmly. She fixed her lip gloss, grabbed her bag and walked to the light switch. She flipped it off then walked down the hall, down the stairs to the front door where she saw Cash, standing, waiting, wearing his overcoat, ready to go.