“Why?”
His head lifted, his green eyes intent. Not cool, but focused.
“I just told you, in case anything goes wrong.”
“Are you expecting anything to go wrong?” She didn’t feel fear. His gaze didn’t allow for it.
“I always expect something to go wrong,” he told her before returning to the notepad. “It’s called preparation.”
“It’s just a party. What could go wrong?”
“Snipers. Assassins in hiding or posing as friends. A million things could go wrong, Emily. The key to surviving it is in being prepared for it.”
“Daddy said security was flush around the mansion,” she pointed out. “How could they get past James Dunmore’s guards? They’re good men.”
His head lifted again; this time his gaze was piercing.
“Do you know all those men personally? Well enough to know to the bottom of your soul that they won’t blink or take a bribe?”
“No,” she answered slowly.
“Then you don’t trust your security to them. You trust it to me.”
“And when you’re gone?” she asked mockingly. All her bodyguards left at some point.
“Then you use the example I’m giving you and the training you’ll receive from me.” His head was lowered, missing her look of surprise. “Always be prepared, Emily. Always question others’ arrangements for your safety and always, always, trust your instincts.” His head lifted again, his gaze probing, before he lowered it and made another note.
“Why are you willing to tell me this?”
She watched his lips quirk though his eyes didn’t lift again.
“Consider it my small contribution to your research.”
Her eyes narrowed at the answer.
“That’s not good enough.”
“It’s going to have to be.” He rose to his feet, snapped the notebook closed, then hauled her from the chair before she could do more than gasp.
She didn’t have time to struggle, even if she wanted to, before his arm latched around her hips, jerked her up against his erection, and his lips stole the kiss he so obviously wanted.
She melted. Why fight it? She had accepted the night before that she was going to end up in his bed. She was panting to get in his bed, dying for more of the pleasure she had only found in his arms.
She was in his arms now. Hers twined around his neck, her fingers threading into his hair as he did the same with one hand in hers before tugging her head back farther.
Whimpers left her throat as colorful bursts of sensation exploded behind her closed eyelids. The arm around her hips lifted her closer as he bent his knees enough to notch the hard ridge of his erection between her thighs. And she was lost from there.
His lips slanted over hers and her lips parted further for him. Her tongue stroked against his aggressively, not content to allow him to set the pace of this first acceptance, this preliminary introduction to the decision she had made late in the night.
He wasn’t tameable. He would probably end up walking away long before she was ready to consider letting him go. But for as long as she could hold him, he would be hers.
“Jesus, you taste good,” he growled as he nipped at her lips before pulling back to stare down at her.
“You taste better.” She licked her tongue over the lower curve of his lips, watching as his eyes flared and lust filled them.
“You would pick this morning to go all sweet and soft in my arms,” he griped, before releasing her with a sigh. “Grab your things, I’ll put our dishes in the sink. We have to head out of here.”
“We should take the Harley,” she suggested.