Red Silk Scarf by Elizabeth Lowe Page A

muscles.   The whisper
soft voice puffing against her skin spine tingling, “Your skin reminds me of
silk, soft, shiny, expensive.”   Hands
slipping beneath each armpit compressed her threateningly.   A nose burrowed into her hair as he continued
to goad her, “Your hair like the finest perfumes.”   

 
    Scaring her
wasn't about to happen, Cassidy reassured her scurrying emotions.   Yet, when his body leaned into hers invisible
fright entering her toes, crept eerily up her legs making its way to the center
of her, damn the vanity for halting her, for allowing the small of her back to
identify the hard shaft pressing against her buttocks.   For long agonizing moments slowly with
purpose, his body gently ground her hips while his fingers inched toward her
breasts.  

 
    Rarely granting
anyone the privilege, least of all someone like Sullivan, turning torpidly her
steel like gaze collided with a badge.   Minus her heels, Sullivan was a giant requiring tilting her head to
address his face.   Thank God, her
reaction instantly removed his hands, her inbred tenacity providing the
strength and perseverance or he would have known how forcefully her heart was
clanging, how close to the edge of sheer panic she really was.  

 
    Cassidy never
backed down.   Neither did Sullivan.   Bristling with antagonism, smoldering
charcoal eyes glared at him.   “Pray tell,
did the mighty warrior decide he required my services after all?”    Words that struck his face for Sullivan
flinched and the muscles of his cheek danced to grinding teeth.  

 
    Amazingly, he
said nothing, merely stared at the swells of her breasts struggling not to
heave, the tightness of the towel making them more prominent.   An unnerving inspection intensified by the
backs of his fingers lightly gliding over them.  

 
    Trying to thwart
the goose bumps his touch evoked, Cassidy whined inwardly, keep cool, calm and
collected, right, how when he was churning her insides into bubbling lava?   Nevertheless, pro that she deemed herself to
be managed somehow to pluck the necessary commodities from the volcano before
erupting.

 
    Raising both
hands, fingers creeping seductively up the blue material of his shirt already
damp from desires perspiration began smoothing over the material before easing
two buttons open.   Eyes glittering with
devilment confronted his glaring down with steely contempt.   “What do you prefer,” Cassidy whispered as
her hands slithering downward seized his belt buckle.   Although receiving no verbal reply, her eyes
studying the v where his heartbeat registered saw the lump in his throat
lodge.   Brave as his outward appearance
appeared, evident beneath her palms were firm, well-disciplined muscles
twitching, the thuds of a heart pulsating so wildly it matched the notes of his
raspy breathing.   Still, he never spoke
or moved.  

 
    Desire glazed the
eyes lost in the pools of hers.   Other
than seeming to require true grit to withstand her loosening his belt, Sullivan
never responded to her actions making Cassidy wonder how far he'd allow her to
go.   Considering sex was not part of the
plan, she questioned if she could.   Yes,
she supposed, if it meant saving her life.   That is if she didn't faint first.  

 
    Sex was not what
he was after Patrick struggled to remind himself, scaring her was more to his
liking.   He wanted her out of L.A.   Sure, what were his chances when DeMarco
would never release her?   Who would be
crazy enough to allow such a temptress to get away? An ass, that's what he was
for allowing the situation to get out of hand, his intentions, had backfired,
now how would he back down.   The way his
vital organs were reacting right this second scared the hell out of him
instead.  

 
    It didn’t help
that the angle of the dresser mirror had offered him a view of her luscious
body when she stepped from the shower.   Brain dead that's what Cassidy was, so damn naive, so