Magda Alexander

A zing travels up my arm from the contact. My nostrils flare, and I catch a whiff of her female scent. She may not wear perfume, but there__ a bewitching essence to her that ensnares my senses.

As I unbutton him, I kiss his skin_ warm, fragrant, smelling of soap, his expensive cologne and him. Done, I slip him out of the garment and lay over his heart which thuds heavy and deep beneath my breast. Except for my gossamer-thin robe, we're almost skin to skin.

I shiver at the command. Why do I love the way he orders me around when I won__ stand the same from another man?

Pride? What are you talking about?_ __ou wear your independence like a badge of honor. Bound and determined to allow no man to take care of you.

His power, his intense masculinity, hit me like a semi, sucking the air out of my lungs. He doesn't help matters when he steps closer, forcing me to look up at him. My five seven is no match against his six three.

An image pops into my head of Gabriel Storm in my bed, his golden skin sheened with sweat while I ride him to paradise. Oh. My. God. Where did that come from? I__e sworn to stay away from men.

I never wanted to be you. I saw what the weight of being the heir did to you. And I__ not talking about what our mother did to you. I__ talking about the mantle of responsibility thrust upon you. Hell at fourteen you practically ran the castle. God knows our father never did. And all Mother wanted to do was throw one grand party after another._ /__ell, somebody had to take responsibility. The place was falling apart._.

I miss breathing in your scent, the feel of your body next to mine. I miss you, Elizabeth, so much I hurt with it sometimes. So forgive me if I can__ be happy about this venture of yours at Payne Industries.

His rough-pad fingers travel down my throat, across my collarbone, down the swell of my chest, a simple caress which has me quaking inside. My flesh aches for him, burns for his touch.

His lips follow a trail from my mouth to my jaw, down to my throat. As he nuzzles, he suckles, nips my skin before circling back to my mouth to taste me, ravage me, own me.

Mr. Tall, blond and delicious?_ She__ a huge fan of Gabriel__. Maybe it__ because he kissed her hand, or because he showed her nothing but courtesy during that weekend in the castle. Or maybe, just maybe, it__ because she knows I__ in love with him.

THREE MONTHS HAVE GONE BY without the taste of Gabriel Storm in my mouth, the scent of his skin in my nostrils, the rush of his powerful body pounding into mine.

I__e always had an ear for music so one day I sat at the piano and picked out some notes. I tried to improve, but without formal instruction, there was only so much I could learn. When I went off to school, I demanded my studies include piano lessons. By the time I was ten, I could play Mozart concertos.

I__ so exhausted with worry, I go to bed early that day. But hours later, I__ still awake. I can__ seem to fall asleep. Not without him by my side. When did I become so addicted to Jake? Why do I crave his company? Since forever, my conscience responds. After my father__ death, I went off the deep end because he was not there. I sought the BDSM lifestyle, not because I yearned for it, but because I wanted the pain. If Jake had been there, somehow I could have muddled through the aftermath of my father__ funeral without looking for someone to tie me up and administer punishment. I wanted to be beaten as an outlet for my agony. Not that it made any difference. Even after I flew to Brazil, the pain was still there. It still is. And I know why. Because he__ not by my side. As much as I want him to be here with me, he never signed on to babysit me for life.

She breathes a soft sigh, and in the tried and true ways of time immemorial, she welcomes me home.

The moment I met her she struck me dumb, deaf, and stupid. At only eighteen, she__ had everything_ brains, beauty, class. And she__ known it too. In the eight years since, I__e watched her toy with one man after another, sometimes for a weekend, sometimes for a couple of months. But the affairs always ended the same. With her handing him his hat and a don__-slam-the-door-on-your-way-out.

Come back to me, to my bed. Where we can make love. Every single night. For as long as we both shall live. That__ the vow you made. Remember? Well, it__ time to prove you meant it. Come back and stay. Forever. That__ my offer. Take it or leave it.

The thought I may never see her again streaks through me. The time__ all wrong. We only have twenty minutes before we head out. But right now, I don__ give a damn. I grab her and push her against the door. No time to do anything except in the most primal of ways. I kiss her hard...