Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [39]
His chest had a strange pressure. Accepting how his world had changed in just two days would take a bit of time. Even so, he wouldn’t run from the enormity of what was happening between them. This was the one area where he let his Mershan blood rule: When he saw something he really desired, he didn’t hesitate. His Harley back in England, the deal he’d made with Derek for the Shelby—both were impulsive purchases. He’d never regretted the motorcycle and figured he wouldn’t be sorry for buying the car. He’d had to have them, so he didn’t hesitate. That same drive to claim Asha burned in his gut. He wanted to stick her in the Shelby, drive non-stop to Las Vegas and marry her. He couldn’t. He might look like Trev, but on the inside, that path wouldn’t suit his conscience simply because it wouldn’t be fair to her.
Asha laughed musically. “You keep asking if I feel all right, only I think I should ask if you feel okay. You have the strangest expression on your face.”
Looking for a release of his frustrated mating drive, he stalked her, backing her up to the end of the pool. “I’m not all right. What did you expect? You’d waltz in here in that take-me swimsuit and I’d not go into hormone overload? Here’s the plan, Asha—”
“Oh, you have a plan, do you? Smart man.” Eyes dancing, she laughed.
He growled as her back hit the edge of the pool. Planting a hand on the wall on either side of her, he leaned to Asha, invading her space. Letting her feel the heat off his body. “One time offer—you and that itsy-bitsy, backless suit get out of this pool, wrap that robe around you, and get the hell to your bungalow before I count down from one hundred, or I’m coming after you—and if I get my hands on you, nothing will stop me from taking you. Do you understand, Asha?”
He leaned closer. He could almost taste her mouth, the hint of Pepsi on her breath, and it was nearly enough to let loose the primal lust rippling under his skin. Asha nodded. Still, she foolishly played with fire. He figured coming at her like a Category 5 hurricane would send her running. Rather surprisingly, he could see her mind struggling. One part of her wanted to run and not look back; the other was tempted to dance with the devil. The thought skittered through her mind to do something wild and wicked. He could read her that plainly.
“Don’t consider it, my Scottish lass. I mean every word I say. Run, or there won’t be any sleep for either of us tonight.” He smiled a predator’s threat, then began counting. “One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight . . .”
He lifted her by the waist and plopped her cute little tush on the pool edge. Her cautious side finally kicked in. She blinked, slowly rising to her feet, water dripping from her body. He kept counting. Grabbing her robe, she clutched it to her chest. Her brown eyes softened, intense longing swirling within. Blasted woman wouldn’t let him be chivalrous!
“Damn it, Asha—seventy-nine, seventy-eight . . .” With an easy push, he levered up on his arms, dragging his body out of the pool. Water sluiced off him. “Seventy-three—I get my hands on you, there’s no turning back.” He made a swipe at her as if to grab her, then laughed as she squeaked and finally ran.
Watching that firm derrière moving away, Jago contemplated if he might’ve just done the most stupid thing in his whole life. Stupid, but honorable.
“Being honorable sucks.” He sighed in frustration. “Jago Luxovius Mershan, you’re one lucky sonofabitch—or cursed. Right now, I’m leaning heavily toward cursed.”
CHAPTER TEN
Sitting on the rock retaining wall that ran around the bungalows, Jago smoked a Swisher Sweet. He should be pleased. Not once all night had he gone to the refrigerator and stood aimlessly searching for something he craved.
The last piece of the puzzle had finally clicked into place: What he craved was Asha.
He’d gone to bed, slept a couple of hours, then awoken to his body on fire with need. Strange, they’d only known each other two days, but now his whole life seemed empty, shallow without her nearness.