Tackling Her Heart by Alexandra O'Hurley Page B

staring at her phone
for a moment, feeling almost ill. She sat it back down to charge,
her mind spinning. There was no way she could write that story. Her
heart thumped heavily in her chest. Sofia cared too much for Marc
to break her promise. She wouldn’t do it. Instead, she’d write her
letter of resignation and submit that. Her father would understand;
she’d make him understand. Damn it, why hadn’t she been able to
tell Davis to go to hell?
    “ So what are you going to
write about me?”
    Sofia spun, and the sickness only
grew. Marc stood there, his face looking angrier than she’d ever
seen it. A towel hugged his narrow hips, his broad, muscular arms
crossed over a wide expanse of chest. Under normal circumstances,
she’d have been turned on by the sight of him like this, with beads
of water covering his sinful body. Now, his untimely arrival was
all kinds of wrong.
    Marc hadn’t completely started
trusting her, but she’d seen him relaxing in the past few days.
Whatever ground she’d gained, she’d lost and then some in the
matter of a couple of minutes. “I’m not going to write
it.”
    “ You just told Davis
you would write
the story, even though you’re compromised. So you’ve been lying
this whole time, getting closer to me for the kill. I should’ve
guessed.”
    “ No! I didn’t. Davis
backed me into a corner, and I didn’t know what to say, so I said
yes. But I’m not going to write it. I can’t write it.”
    Marc stared at her for a
long moment. “Why can’t you?”
    Because I’m falling in
love with you. The immediate thought made
her suck in a breath. She felt slightly dizzy and put a hand on the
bed to steady herself. She knew there was no way she could repeat
that thought out loud. Marc wouldn’t want to hear it. “Becoming
your mistress … gave me bias. If word of our relationship surfaced,
anything I printed would be considered worthless.”
    Marc continued to stare at her, his
face now devoid of emotion. What was he thinking? She couldn’t
gauge anything from the blank stare he was giving her. He was
silent, just watching her like a hawk.
    “ Say something,” she
sputtered after a while, needing him to talk to her, to tell her
what he thought—to tell her he believed her.
    “ Take the dress
off.”
    She paused, not sure she’d heard him
right. “What?”
    “ Take. The. Dress.
Off.”
    “ Why?”
    Marc pulled his towel off and
discarded it on the floor before walking over to one of his open
bags. He began fishing through for something, ignoring
her.
    When he turned back to her, a small
bag in hand, he frowned, seeing she hadn’t done as he’d asked. “I
said to take the dress off.” He stormed over to her and pulled the
dress from over her head. She gawked at him, shocked at what he’d
done, but also angry. How dare he?
    “ When I tell you to do
something, you obey.”
    He was out of his
ever-loving mind. “Obey?” she said with a chuckle. “I don’t think so.”
    He moved closer, his voice getting
very low. “You’re in need of punishment.”
    She shivered. “If you’re
angry with me, this is not the way to take it out on me.”
    Marc grabbed the back of her head and
drew her closer. “I won the game this afternoon, so I get what I
want. What I want is you, naked on that bed, tied to it so I can
spank you. And trust me, you need to be spanked.”
    He hadn’t hurt her with his touch,
more shocked her than anything. Marc slowly released her, and she
took a step back. He pulled her back close to him and captured her
mouth with his, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth to sweep
between her teeth. His kiss wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t harsh,
either. Again, she couldn’t get a read on his emotions and that
left her feeling unsure of what he was doing.
    Marc lowered a hand to cup her sex,
one finger sliding between her folds. She was wet for him, even in
her uncertainty. Her body reacted without her brain at times, the
many orgasms he’d rendered