Seduction Island. Lorie O'Clare
she began, not seeing how riding a horse would help her to be a better social organizer.
“Don’t run from something because you don’t know about it,” he told her, tightening his hand over hers when she tried pulling free. “Especially when your fascination is so apparent.”
Amber yanked her hand from under his. The quick movement must have startled the horse, or possibly annoyed him. He raised his head, looking down at her with very large eyes. The whites of his eyes in contrast to his black coat made him look exceptionally pissed. She jumped back and the man wrapped his arms around her, stilling her.
God, the dark hairs on his forearms did tickle her, sending a rush of excitement over her body, while goose bumps traveled across her flesh just as quickly.
“Shh,” he whispered in her ear. “What most people don’t understand about horses is their intelligence level. Believe me, he reads you as well as I do. He just registered your fear when he moved, which confused him. And I’m sure he detects how aroused you are at the moment, too, which probably is annoying him because he’s stuck back here without a female horse to enjoy.”
“How dare you,” she snapped, struggling to get out of his arms.
The horse moved in his stall, stepping back and forth while making a sound in his throat. Amber wasn’t sure if the horse was agreeing with the dark stranger, who pressed against her backside, or announcing him an ass.
“Would you rather I lie to you?” he whispered in her ear, keeping one arm tightly around her waist while moving his other hand up her front. His fingers grazed over her breasts, causing them to swell, suddenly feeling heavy with need, while her nipples puckered painfully. “Would you not be interested in knowing how the first time I saw you I turned harder than stone? Before I said a word to you I ached to touch you, learn every inch of your body while exploring your mind at the same time.”
There was something interesting about his vocal inflection. He held on to a drawl, reminding her of a ranch hand who possibly spent his entire life around horses. But there was a New England, almost aristocratic edge to his words, too, barely detectable but coming through more noticeably as he whispered in her ear, torturing her flesh. He cupped her chin, turning her head so she was able to see how deep his dark blue eyes were. She swore if she stared into them long enough, she’d understand the very depths of his soul. One thing she noticed, as she slipped deeper into his compelling gaze, was there was more to this man than just a hired hand who lived his life caring for animals and doing menial labor.
It crossed her mind that her month on this island, carrying out a job she knew damn good and well she wasn’t qualified to do, might be more pleasant if she consented to a sordid affair with one of the servants. Especially one like this man with his powerful body and incredibly smooth way of speaking and manipulating her body so it was ready and eager to agree with his proposition before her mind could even wrap around it.
“No, I’m not interested in knowing that,” she said, the words slipping out of her mouth from years of habit kicking in. It was second nature to turn down the advances of any man who came on to her strong and fast. Any man like that was a guaranteed heartache. She reminded herself firmly that she didn’t have time for this, especially over the next month while she tried pulling off a job description that was more foreign to her than the damn horse who watched them with vague interest. Pulling off this job would give her enough money to put a down payment on a home, to finally own something. She ached to create roots, lay down a foundation, and quit throwing money away on rent.
Amber twisted in his arms, and was rewarded for her efforts when his cock stretched against her hip, hardening and throbbing while he continued staring down at her with his compelling blue eyes.
“I’ll let you go,” he informed her, although he continued holding her firmly against him, cupping her chin while his finger moved slowly along the length of her jawbone. “But first tell me why you’re lying to me.”
Amber smiled. Maybe being a social organizer, pretending to know what filthy rich people did for fun, was grossly out of her league. But handling this ranch hand, this rough and ready man, was definitely something she knew how to do. Just knowing he would willingly bend her over and fuck her right here and now should have her beating his chest, scratching and clawing until he let her go, and then running as far away from him as she could get. It was her pride, though, that had her relaxing in his arms, continuing to hold his gaze, and going as far as to lick her lips, although when he had her this close to panting, she couldn’t moisten her dry lips.
“I’m not lying. Just because you’ve successfully discovered I’m a healthy young woman who is capable of sexual reaction doesn’t mean I’m like that horse watching us. I wouldn’t fuck someone simply because they’re presented to me.” She licked her lips again, liking how he watched her, searching her face and then settling his gaze on her mouth while she continued speaking. “I’m sure your horses are as intelligent as you profess, but what makes them different than most people—or at least, from me—is in order for me to fuck someone, the attraction must be mutual, not just physically, but also emotionally. Now, let me go, please.”
He released her, although he didn’t look appropriately chastised. Instead, when he lifted his focus from her mouth to her eyes, crossing his arms over his chest, the flicker she caught in his gaze created butterflies in her tummy. She held her breath, watching his lips part, and realized that, although free to walk away from him, she anxiously waited to hear what he would say next.
“Meet me here tonight at midnight and I’ll prove to you I can stimulate your mind as well as your body.” He walked away from her for the second time, while she memorized the view of his tall, muscular backside and focused on it even after he disappeared from her view.
2
Jordan turned his thoughts to his grandfather. It was the best way to make his hard-on disappear so he could walk through the castle and not risk any of the staff catching him with a raging boner. He pulled open the heavy door leading into the back hallway, immediately dragging the smells from the kitchen into his lungs.
“Excuse me, folks. Would you mind bringing me coffee and something to snack on,” he asked, his announcement causing the two people in the kitchen, an older man and woman, to jump to attention.
“Yes, Mr. Anton,” the older woman said, her Irish brogue a friendly sound as she quickly wiped her plump hands on her apron. “Would you like me to push supper back until later this evening? Or does seven P.M. suit you, sir?”
Jordan didn’t pause, heading across the kitchen and toward the hallway to the stairs. “Whatever you arrange with my social organizer is fine with me,” he called over his shoulder. “Coffee would be great. Maybe a shot of whiskey.” He hit the stairs before suggesting they bring him the entire bottle.
He would give this much to his grandfather, he thought, running his hand over the smooth wooden banister while he headed up the wide staircase to the second floor. The castle was impressive as hell. Only Grandfather Anton would be able to sniff out a rock like this island and turn it into such a captivating paradise. He reminded himself it was still a prison, Grandfather’s idea of an isolated sanctuary where he could take his time and convince Jordan to behave the way Grandfather Anton believed Jordan should.
Pausing at the top of the stairs, he took in the long, wide hallway before him. There were a handful of closed doors on either side, spread apart enough from each other that very large, heavy-looking old pictures didn’t clutter the walls. The floor was carpeted in a thick forest green, which possibly covered an old stone floor that Jordan would have found more appealing and appropriate in keeping with the natural setting of the old castle. He walked down the hallway, aware that his footsteps didn’t make a sound, and how easy that would make it for someone to leave his room at any time and not make their presence known to anyone else in the castle.
Jordan’s room was the first door on the left, the room he’d chosen for himself after inspecting each of them this morning. Letting himself in, he felt the change of temperature quickly from having left his balcony doors open earlier. Leaving