Page 78 of Silver Angel

Derek was becoming distinctly uncomfortable under this treatment, not to mention annoyed. He would have preferred she just lay into him and get it over with, though he still wasn’t sure what he could say to her when he couldn’t tell her the truth. And that, too, was annoying.

He stood up abruptly. “Come.”

Chantelle ignored the hand he offered and stood up by herself, moving over to the couch of pillows. But she didn’t sit down there. She couldn’t. She stared at the setting of her seduction and experienced again the full fury of her stupidity.

Derek came up behind her and took matters into his own hands, pulling her down onto the cushions with him and then straight into his arms. Her reaction was to immediately push away from him and scoot back several feet. He allowed this after a brief connection with her eyes. They were glittering as brightly as the diamonds she wore, but with hostility.

“This won’t do, Shahar,” Derek said after a moment’s indecision. “It is my right to touch you.”

“And my God-given right to fight you, and I warn you I will.”

He had her full attention now. She had come up on her knees to face him, her fists clenched on her thighs, tensely ready for any move he might make.

Derek sighed and gave her a smile that was vaguely apologetic. “But you cannot win, so there is no point in even trying. You will only expend your energy, when we can put it to a much better use.”

She caught her breath. “No! Never again!”

“Never?” He shook his head, as if the word were alien to him. “You are angry, but at least be realistic, Shahar. You know full well that when I want you, I will have you.”

“And I will fight you!”

“So you have said. Shall I show you how little good it will do you?”

There was a brief flash of fear before she exploded. “Damn you, have you so little pride that you would force yourself on a woman who despises you?”

“Do you really think force will be necessary?”

She bristled at the confidence in his tone. “Just try anything, and you will—”

“Oh, I intend to, English, and soon. I will make you purr for me again. You do remember—”

“Stop it!”

“I see you do,” he said with a devilish grin. “I do as well. So why are we wasting time—”

“Oh!”

Chantelle shot to her feet, only to have his arm snake around her legs and pull them out from under her. She landed half on him, half on the pillows, but in only a moment she was flat on her back, his body covering her, his hands capturing hers and stretching them far above her head. She was trapped, and no matter how hard she exerted herself to dislodge him, it did no good.

“Don’t stop,” he murmured thickly by her ear. “I can feel your body’s movements with every part of my own.” She went still and he chuckled. “You are so predictable, English. I believe we have played this game before.”

“Let me up,” she gritted out between her teeth.

“I prefer you like this,” he said, grinding his hips into her. “It brings back such wonderful memories.”

“I hate you.”

He shook his head slowly in answer. “You are angry with me. You don’t hate me.”

He was amused. She saw it in his eyes, in the slight twisting of his lips. He wasn’t taking her seriously. Or if he was, he felt confident he could charm her around. But he couldn’t, and she was afraid when he realized that, he would finally get angry, too.

“Don’t presume to tell me what I feel, your highness,” she said tightly. “You can’t command feelings the way you do everything else.”

“I thought I was fairly good at it the other night.”

She gasped at this pointed reminder of how easily he had made her want him. “That was before you lied to me!”

At last he frowned, demanding, “What are you talking about, woman?”