Lacybourne Manor (Ghosts and Reincarnation #3)(36)
Her response was surprising. He thought a consummate professional like herself would be willing to negotiate. But, perhaps, unsurprising if she was not the little actress most women of his acquaintance seemed to be.
She rushed to him and when she did so, the dog lumbered to his feet and started barking.
When she arrived a foot in front of him, she grabbed his wrist and tried to wrest his clenched fist open. His other hand caught one of her wrists, easily twisting it behind her back and he crushed her body against his.
He tried to ignore his body’s instantaneous reaction to her soft curves against his hard frame but he was not altogether successful. He calmly deposited the jewellery back into his pocket and caught her other hand, which was now pressing against his chest to push him away, and twisted that gently behind her too.
She struggled for a bit and then suddenly realising his superior strength, froze, her face lifting to his.
“You’re unbelievable. I see your personality has changed again,” she accused in a frosty voice that seemed entirely foreign on her lips.
He ignored her and remarked, “That’s better.”
“Let me go.”
He shook his head.
“Let me go!” she demanded.
He shook her gently yet roughly and her fierce eyes turned frightened.
He found he both enjoyed that reaction and hated it with every fibre of his being.
It was a very strange sensation.
Her body still frozen, he finally had her rapt attention. It was time to get down to business.
“I want to f**k you,” he told her calmly and bluntly and waited for her reaction.
“Oh my goddess,” she breathed, her eyes widened and her mouth ended the statement parted in surprise.
With that strange remark, he could smell her breath, which was minty, and her scent, which was now gardenias and vanilla, and both took considerable toll on his fast flagging control.
He realised he wanted her, wanted her now, wanted to rip her clothes off, toss her delicious body on the dining room table and bury himself inside her. He wanted it so badly it took a supreme effort of will not to give in to the impulse and the strength of this hunger made Colin deeply surprised. He’d never felt such a lack of control, such a feral need, in his life.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “You feel good, you smell good, you probably even taste good.”
The panic flared in her eyes but her voice was quiet when she demanded, “Let me go.”
“I’ll pay you.”
Gone was the quiet but the panic escalated.
“You’ll what?” she screeched.
“Name your price. I’ll pay for the use of that body of yours. You tell me how much you want and I’ll tell you what it’s worth to me.” She was looking at him as if he’d grown a second head and she didn’t reply so he continued. “Name your price and I’ll tell you if it’s worth one time, two times or a whole month of me having you whenever I want.”
“You are mad,” she whispered, staring up at him with intensity in her green eyes.
His fingers tightened on her wrists and he pushed his game. “Just name your price. If it’s too high then we’ll add things on. I’ll have you on that table, for example,” he expressed his thought from moments before.
Her head jerked to look at the table then jerked back to him, the tendrils of her hair catching fetchingly on her lips.
“Or, I’ll have you on all fours,” he suggested in a thoughtful attempt to help her make up her mind, driven by something he didn’t understand to shock her.
At that, she started to struggle again, in earnest, anger and panic warring in her expression and she shouted, “Let me go!”
The dog, who had stopped barking, started again, backing up in confusion at this turn of events.
Colin’s hands tightened further on her wrists and he knew it was painful because she ceased struggling immediately. But her luscious body wriggling against him, her eyes flashing green, Colin was definitely no saint, he lost his patience luckily before he lost his flagging control.
But he had to know.
He had to know if she was after his money or if she carried Beatrice Godwin’s reincarnated soul.
The more she struggled, the longer she hesitated, the more he felt his hope grow and he had to know.
Was all that was Sibyl Godwin more than just coincidence?
Was she born destined to be his as he was to be hers?
Colin had been waiting his whole life. He had to know.
Therefore, he dipped his head so his face was an inch from hers and growled, “Name your price.”
* * * * *
Sibyl stared at him, more terrified than she’d ever been in her entire life.
Her mind was racing, her heart was beating like a hammer and panic was welling up in her chest so strongly, she thought she would explode.
This was not Lunatic Colin or any nuance of Rescuer Colin, this was Scary Colin.
“Quiet!” he thundered at Mallory and she jumped. Her dog gave a soft, confused whine and then ran out of the room, up the stairs and, likely, into the corner of her bedroom.
She closed her eyes in stunning defeat at her dog’s retreat.
And saw Meg lying on the ground by the minibus.
She opened her eyes again, knowing the exact figure because she had just that day worked on the budget.
She’d promised herself, whatever it took, she’d find a way.