Blackmailed Into His Arms. Margaret Mayo

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      She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, only to have him spin her around, pin her to the nearest wall with his imposing bulk and mash his lips to hers.

      With a moan of outrage, she pushed at his shoulders, turned from side to side trying to wiggle away. He merely tightened his hold until his hard chest pressed against the growing tautness of her nipples, his strong thighs trapping hers.

      And then the pressure of his mouth changed. Lightening, growing more cajoling than demanding. She moaned again, this time in surrender.

      Her nails dug into his shoulders, pulling him closer rather than attempting to push him away, and her leg snaked up to wrap around one of his. His hands spanned her waist as he tore his mouth away, his lips moving to her chin, her throat, the curve of her ear.

      “I’m sorry,” he panted, the words vibrating over her skin and into her bones. “I acted like an ass earlier. I was in a bad mood and took it out on you. I shouldn’t have, and I’m sorry.”

      Her brain was turning to liquid, as was the rest of her body. She could barely remember what he’d said to her all those hours ago, let alone how upset she’d been with him afterward.

      “Forgive me?”

      His fingers fumbled with the thick belt of her robe, getting it open and pushing apart the edges of the heavy terry cloth. She was naked beneath and the cool air of the suite washed over her rapidly heating flesh. He fastened his mouth on the straining tip of one breast and she whimpered, digging her fingers into his hair to hold him in place.

      How could she deny him when he made her blood flow like molten lava and drove every rational thought from her head?

      “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Yes, yes.”

      He moved to her other breast and she gasped, letting her head fall back against the wall as sensation after sensation washed over her. Reaching between them, he quickly undid his pants and lifted her legs around his waist, filling her in one long, strong stroke.

      Biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out, Elena crossed her ankles behind his back, arched her back in an attempt to get even closer to him and let the ripples of pleasure wash over her.

      He was so powerful. So confident and masculine and … incredible. No one had ever had such a profound effect on her before. And she doubted anyone ever would again.

      Chase’s breathing sounded in her ear, heavy and harsh to match her own. It took only moments for the intensity to build, for the desire spiraling in her belly to grow almost unbearable and for her to shatter into a million little pieces, taking Chase over the precipice with her into ecstasy.

      They clung to each other, gasping for air, then slowly slid down the wall to the floor in a tangle of limbs and disheveled clothes.

      Several minutes later, his chest rumbled with a low chuckle. He shifted slightly, moving into a more comfortable position and bringing her with him to rest in the crook of his arm. “Guess I understand now why make-up sex has such a stellar reputation. Maybe later, we can get into another fight and do that again.”

      She gave an exhausted, wheezing laugh, positive she would never have enough energy to argue or make love with quite that much exuberance again. She’d be surprised if she could even manage to walk on her own two legs before early next week.

      Seven

      Standing in the corner of the huge, crowded ballroom, Chase buried his hands in his pants pockets and scuffed his booted foot on the highly polished floor. Adults were milling all over, drinking, laughing, nibbling on little finger sandwiches and chunks of cheese speared with fancy toothpicks.

      At least that’s what he thought they were eating. When they’d first come in, he’d taken a good look at some of the trays the waiters were carrying around and decided there was nothing on them he’d be putting in his mouth.

      The big, expensive house was decorated for Christmas within an inch of its life. Santas, reindeer, holly boughs, snowflakes, bells, angels, mistletoe … if it had anything to do with Christmas, it was stuffed somewhere in this mausoleum.

      He hated this sort of thing. If his mom and dad hadn’t made him come to this stupid party, at this stupid old mansion, he would be home right now, watching TV or doing chores in the barn with his brother.

      But from some of the whispered conversations he’d overheard between his parents, things hadn’t been great with their family lately, financially speaking. Victor Sanchez had hired his dad to do some work with his horses and paid him well for his expertise, so when the man invited the Ramseys to his home for a huge holiday celebration, it would have been rude—according to Chase’s mother—not to accept.

      But he still didn’t see why he and Mitch had had to come along. If his parents wanted to schmooze and make a good impression, fine, but this was nothing but a waste of time for him.

      There were hardly any other teenagers in attendance and those who were looked to be stuck-up snobs. He recognized a few of them from school, all part of the “in” crowd—while he and his brother definitely weren’t.

      Not that he was complaining. He liked his life, liked living on a horse and cattle ranch and helping his father out every chance he got. If he had his way, he’d drop out of school altogether and spend his days working with the animals and riding his favorite gelding, Skywalker.

      And he’d never have to dress up in a ridiculous suit, with a tie just about strangling him to death. He tugged at his shirt collar, trying again to loosen the darn thing before it cut off his air supply.

      There was only one person here he was even kind of interested in being around, and that was Mr. Sanchez’s daughter, Elena. She was a year or two younger than Chase, and he saw her around school once in a while, but they definitely didn’t run in the same crowd.

      The Sanchezes were rich.

      The Ramseys weren’t.

      Elena Sanchez was gorgeous and popular.

      Chase didn’t exactly look like he’d been hit in the face with a brick, but girls like her didn’t hang around boys who wore faded jeans, dusty boots and beat-up cowboy hats.

      Of course, that didn’t mean boys in faded jeans and Stetsons didn’t enjoy watching pretty girls in their pricey clothes.

      And Chase had watched Elena plenty. Not that he’d admit to such a fact, even if his brother put him in a headlock and threatened to dunk him in the disgusting, algae-covered water trough he hadn’t gotten around to cleaning yet.

      Chase huffed a nervous, indecisive breath and tapped the heel of his boot a couple more times on the floor. He’d never have the courage to go up to her at school, with so many other kids around, but maybe here he could.

      This was a Christmas party. Everyone was in a festive and possibly more receptive mood than usual.

       So maybe …

      Glancing around, he took a couple tentative steps away from his post against the wall. His mother and father were chatting with another couple on the far side of СКАЧАТЬ