Free Stranger at the beach house by L J Dee

made me laugh until I caught his little smirk. ‘Oh no you don’t, Mister’ , I thought to myself. He was
turning the tables and tonight was not going to be about me again. I needed to
know more about him and pushed on undeterred.
      “You said you have to go back to London
occasionally, Sam, why?” I asked as he looked at me from under his soft dark
lashes, continuing to chew on his pasta. I stayed silent until he finished,
urging his reply.
    “If something comes up,” he said
dryly.
      “What sort of thing?” I gazed at him, biting
my lip to try and suppress my threatening smile.
    “Just stuff,” he replied, putting
down his knife and fork as his eyes burned into mine. He was losing his cool.
    “Do you think you’ll ever go back
to London for good?” I asked, picking up our empty plates and breaking the
visual deadlock. His eyes followed me with a brooding stare and he was running
his fingers in exasperation through his hair, ruffling the inky black strands
on top. Oh God that was sexy.
    “I don’t know, Rose,” he said
rising from the chair and striding slowly over, his eyes blazing. “But you need
to stop with the questions or I will come over there and find a way to shut you
up”. Christ . His delicious threat
sent my heart into overdrive. What the hell was going on? Talk about blowing
hot and cold. But this was hot, red hot.
      “What do you mean?” I whispered, our eyes
unwavering as he moved closer, a smile playing at the corner of moist, slightly
parted lips.
      “That’s another question, Rose. I’ve warned
you and I mean it, one more and ...” I was pinned
against the worktop by his firm torso, intoxicated by his closeness, every
nerve in my body fired up on hyper alert and despite my logical inward protests
about staying cool, calm and collected; I prayed he wouldn’t pull back as he
had last night.
      His face was centimetres from mine as he
inched closer still, tipping my head with the soft grip of his hands. “Go on,
Rose, I dare you,” he whispered, almost touching my lips. There was only one
thing to do.
      “And what...?” I challenged as he pulled me
hard against his body, his soft full lips crashing against mine, hands fisting
my hair and exploring my mouth with his urgent tongue. A low moan rumbled in
his throat and was met with my own and I felt the amazing kiss right in my
core. I had never been so desperate for a man’s touch. There was no doubt. He
was as affected by me as I was by him. Digging my hands into his solid back I
could feel his arousal pulsing hard against my stomach and I was lost, totally
entranced by the heady mix of gentleness and possessiveness. It was as if we
felt one another’s need and couldn’t get enough, pulling closer still until
there was no space left between us. I had never felt so alive, so desired and
so fucking turned on.
    I felt suddenly adrift as he
pulled away looking past me through the window, his hands still holding my head
possessively, his breathing fast and ragged as I noticed the sound of
screeching tyres over the rushing blood pulsing loudly through my ears. I was
panting hard, confused and dazed.
    “Who the fuck is that?” he said,
sounding really annoyed. His mouth was set in a grim line as I turned to see
the dark Mercedes pulling into the drive.
    “Is it Harry?” I asked in a voice
I didn’t recognise, trying to catch my breath and get a closer look at the lone
occupant of the C-Class. It was too dark, I couldn’t see.
      “No,” he said quickly and the blood drained
from my face as realisation slowly dawned that I only knew one other person who
drove a car like that. Shit. It
couldn’t be, could it? I looked again as the car ground to a halt.
      “ I think it’s Daniel,” I
sighed quietly.
    “What the fuck does he want?”
snarled Sam smashing his palm hard against the worktop.
    “I don’t know,” I whispered,
sensing the growing heat and anger radiating from his body that was still
pressed firmly