He shook his head at her. “Sophia, Sophia,” he breathed. “You drive me to distraction.”
“Do I?” Her happy smile was contagious. She towed him to the garden. “Please, will you ask a waiter to bring our drinks and cigars.”
He stood there, dumbstruck by her haughty and commanding manner. He shook his head in disbelief. She ordered him around and she expected him to obey her. And, worse, he knew he would do as she asked. Seems as if I’m wrapped around her finger.
Sophia stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. “I’ll wait for you here, Handsome,” and flashed him a broad smile. She pushed him with her hands on his hips, her thumbs brushing his already semi-hard member.
He leaned down to nibble her earlobe and whispered in her ear, “You’re playing with fire, Sophia.”
“Maybe I want to get burned,” she answered in a throaty voice, turning and leaving him standing. He watched her, mesmerized as she walked to the edge of the riverbank.
He shook his head again, slower this time, not sure if he should be amused. He returned to the restaurant to look for a waiter. I’ve been shaking my head too much, lately.
A smile of pure joy appeared on his face as he strolled inside, lighthearted, whistling one of the songs from Sophia’s playlist under his breath.
11.12 p.m.
Alistair narrowed his eyes at the scene by the river. Sophia laughed at something a blond man said. Rage boiled in his veins as the man leaned near her to say something. She laughed harder and put a hand over her right breast, an unconsciously sensual gesture. The man put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed as she spoke and giggled.
Before Alistair knew what he was doing, he strode up to them with the liquid grace of a panther.
Alistair stopped beside them. Neither one had noticed him as they laughed on. He cleared his throat. “I’m not intruding, am I?”
“Alistair!” Sophia jumped and then smiled at him. “No, of course not. This is Judge Albert Ackerman. Albert, this is a friend of mine, Alistair MacCraig.”
“Mr. MacCraig, how do you do?” The blond man stretched his hand to shake Alistair’s.
“How do you do?” Alistair shook it briefly and discouraging further intimacy, turned to Sophia informing her in an icy voice, “I have ordered that our drinks and cigars are brought to our private garden.” He stressed the words and grabbed Sophia’s hand. He bowed his head in a sharp movement to the blond man, “Good night, Your Honor.” And he lugged Sophia, who waved hastily to her friend and she tripped behind Alistair.
“Wait, wait!” Sophia pulled his hand and stopped when they arrived at the cottage door. She squinted to peruse his expression in the moonless night and took a deep breath when she felt his dark mood.
“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice was low and laden with distrust. “This is a friend of mine, Alistair MacCraig,” he mimicked.
“Well, I wasn’t quite sure how to introduce you,” she answered shakily. “I didn’t mean-”
“Boyfriend, date, lover, whatever.” He threw a hand up, exasperated. “Not a friend.” He released the doorknob, leaving the door open, and moved aggressively toward her. “Never a simple friend,” he snarled. “Do you fuck your friends, Sophia?”
“Alistair,” she was thoroughly shocked at his sudden rage.
“I told you we were dating. I’m in a relationship with you, just as you asked me. But still, I’m a friend?” He put his forearms on the outer wall of the cottage and caged her between his arms and body. “What were you two chatting about?” His voice was icy and his eyes narrowed to thin slits.
“We were just talking about a funny case he heard yester-”
Alistair’s large hand shot to her throat and he tightened his long fingers around it, cutting her air.
Her head banged on the wall. Her eyes became huge with astonishment.
“Don’t lie,” he warned and tightened the grip, “I noticed your body language. It was too intimate.”
When her cold hand wrapped around his wrist, he released her throat, astonished at his violent reaction, moving his hand up to cup her face.
Sophia felt her own fingers, still wrapped around his wrist, against her jaw. It was almost a tender gesture despite the anger in his eyes. She gasped and coughed lightly, cupping her throat in her other hand. She glared at him.
“Are you crazy?” she graveled. “Release me. Now.”
He winced at the sign of his violent gesture. The familiar jealousy ran hot through his veins and reminded him of another time and woman.
In his efforts to prove himself to Sophia, forget Heather’s betrayal, and forgive himself, he’d been suppressing his darkest desires. However, restraining his aggressive nature wore him down. The only thing that kept him in check was the difference he had seen from the beginning in his experiences with Sophia - different from any other women he had known. He felt his recent tenuous hold on his self-control nearly gone.
She pushed him back, palming his chest with both hands, and stepped forward, hissing, “I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want, about whatever I-”
Alistair grabbed her, one hand gripping her hair and the other sliding down her thigh. He propelled her back until she felt the cold wall against her back through her dress. His hard body aligned with hers forcefully.
“You are mine, Sophia. I don’t want to see another man’s hands on you. Ever.” He yanked her head back, “Never, do you understand, Sophia? You don’t want to see me lose control,” he hissed through clenched teeth, so close to her face that his breath fanned her cheeks.
He parted her mouth violently with his tongue and caught her bottom lip with his teeth, biting down.
Sophia shoved her hands in his hair and tugged back trying to free herself from the kiss, but the movement just spurred his lust.
His hand slid over the curve of her back, massaging it with his long fingers. He wasn’t being careful or gentle now.
Alistair lifted her left leg, pulling her thigh around his hip and pressing her between him and the wall. His huge erection imprinted itself on her belly, leaving no room for doubt about his state of arousal. Her shawl dropped, rustling to the ground.
“Why do I feel you slipping through my fingers?” he grunted, his mouth trailing down the column of her neck.
“I’m not going anywhere, I’m yours,” she avowed in a raw voice, “Nobody else’s.” My goodness! The man is more jealous than Gabriel and Ethan put together.
“That wasn’t what I saw.” He nipped her bare shoulder. “And I’ve told you before: I don’t share.”
“Neither do I,” she said, breathless from his bold caresses.
His fingers slid under her dress and up her thigh, teasing the skin encased in black thigh-highs until it reached her frilly lace thong.
“Christ, this is-” His hands seized the thin, delicate embellishment and ripped it apart.
“God, Alistair,” she breathed, “have you gone completely insane?”
“Aye.” His eyes glinted green flames in the semi-darkness. “You make me unhinged. In so many ways, I can’t start recounting now.” He smiled dangerously before pressing his lips to her ear, “Is this for me?” He held up the torn thong for a second before fisting it in his closed hand.
“Yes,” she reached up and grasped a fistful of his hair, dragging his head down and hissing fervently on his lips, “for you. Only you. Always you.”
Without warning, Alistair lifted her, pressing her against the cold wall.
“Don’t,” she gasped. “We’re going to get caught.”
“One of these days, I’m going to have my wicked way with you.” He let her glide down his body.
He picked up her shawl and put it around her shoulders. He brought the thong to his nose, inhaling her scent, shoved it in the inner pocket of his jacket, and towed her inside the cottage with sparse movements. “Someday, I’m going to tie you down, really tie you,” he said with a gruff voice, “and not allow any movements and drive you mad with desire - just like you torture me - until you beg me to fill you and let you come.”