Silence is Golden

40. Fallen

One brush of my fingers against his lips.

That was all.

That was all it took to silence his protests. His eyes blazed with cold fire and silent thunder. Even though I was only touching one infinitesimally small patch of skin, I could feel his whole body tense under my touch – a granite predator, ready to spring. The water droplets clinging to his skin quivered as his chest heaved, sucking in a harsh breath. Slowly, very slowly, my finger travelled down from his lips, over his throat and down to the great, smooth expanse of his chest. There was power in this hard stone marvel. Leashed power, tight and controlled, just waiting to be released. I could feel it, pulsing just under his stony skin. What if I were to step forward? What if I were to unlock that power and–

A hand shot up, catching my finger in mid-movement. My eyes flicked up from a stone statue's bare chest to meet the very alive eyes of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. There was no compromise in them. No room for doubt or hesitation. Only desire, and the power to get what he desired – no matter what!

'I told you to be careful!' he growled. 'You wouldn't listen!'

In a flash his arms were around me. I felt myself being hauled up out of the water and then I was suddenly pressed against a bare granite chest, and we were under the waterfall, in a world of flying diamonds and shining dreams. Good God! Was this really happening?

My common sense said no. My inner feminist said no. But his dark, deep, unfathomable eyes screamed yes with a thousand silent shouts. His hands slid up underneath my chemise, and his skin against mine was hot and cold and scolding and icy all at once, making me burn with a need for this solitary iceberg of a man that was so intense I could almost taste it.

Almost?

Scratch that!

His lips came crashing down on mine and they were sweet, sweeter than any solid chocolate ever produced by man. Now I could taste my need, and what's more, I could taste his. It was there, on his lips devouring mine, on his tongue claiming my mouth for his own. My mouth was fighting back, wanting not to be conquered but to conquer, to take possession of this man and never let go. My hands swept greedily over him, bared to me by the luckiest of chances. Who knew when I'd have an opportunity like this again? I needed to take advantage of it now! Or better yet, I needed to take advantage of him!

I mashed myself more tightly against him, and through the sheer material of my chemise I could feel every hard line of his body. My hands started roaming over his smooth, powerful torso, claiming every inch for my own. But it still wasn't enough! Breaking our kiss, my lips slid from his and raced down over his throat, towards his shoulder.

'Aar!' The groan he let out as my teeth sank into his muscled shoulder was sweet music to me. 'Mr Linton! What the hell are you doing?'

Licking my lips, I grinned up at him. Bending to his shoulder again, I placed a soft, gentle kiss on the place where the bite mark, my mark, was beginning to form.

'Mine,' I whispered.

I didn't think it required any more explanation.

A ravenous growl erupted from his throat, and he hauled me up against him, claiming my mouth once more.

'My little Ifrit!' he whispered against my lips.

'Really? I thought Ifrits were supposed to have fiery wings. We're under a waterfall.'

'Doesn't matter!' His voice was harsh and chopped, his breathing unusually heavy. 'You burn hot enough to light an ocean on fire!'

'So my wings are still there?' Smirking, I captured his lower lip between my teeth, just for a moment. 'I can still fly?'