He grabbed her hand and in three great strides he was at the foot of the stairs, dragging her behind him.
“Don’t you want a drink?” she asked in desperation, trailing after him, her feet having no choice but to move quickly, reading his intent and terrified of it but to her extreme unease, Colin made no response.
She tried to yank her hand away, tried to delay this until later, much later, after brie and shrimp cocktail and all was made right in the world again.
She tripped up the first step but found her footing quickly. She had to, he didn’t hesitate, his strong hand gripping hers; he dragged her up the stairs.
He halted abruptly at the large landing and she slammed into him. The bathroom was obviously to his right, another two-step stairway several paces to the left took him to the upstairs hall. He turned left, and, with some uncanny perception, walked right passed the two other bedrooms to the very end of the hall and up the three extra steps that led him to her bedroom. He entered it without hesitation, pulling her with him.
The light was still on beside her bed (her mother would have given her a lecture about global warming if she saw it, but then again, her mother would probably have other things to lecture her about if she’d been there).
He drew her in the room and then let her go and the force of this action sent her beyond him several steps into the room.
Then he slammed the door shut behind him.
There went any chance at Mallory-induced interruptions.
Sibyl’s belly dropped.
“Take off your clothes,” he commanded without preamble.
All her breath left her in a rush and her heart squeezed. Then she tried another delaying tactic.
“Mr. Morgan, can we just take a moment and talk this through? There have to be ground rules.”
He took one stride, one angry stride, reached out and yanked her into his arms and she tipped her head back to look into his blazing eyes.
“Call me ‘Mr. Morgan’ one more time and I’ll tie you na**d to the bed for a week,” he bit out, apparently, for some reason, livid. “Got that?”
Her entire body trembled.
“It’s Colin,” he clipped.
She nodded.
“Say it!” he barked and she jumped.
“Colin,” Sibyl whispered.
It was then he kissed her.
It was nothing like the kiss the blond version of him gave her in the dream. It was hot, yes, but it was an entirely different type of wild that was heady and needy and so possessive it took her breath away and, darn it all, it did this deliciously.
Then Colin unexpectedly released her and, unprepared for it, Sibyl stumbled back a step. She thought she might fall as her wobbly legs didn’t seem able to support her. She threw out her hand and grabbed the foot of the bed to steady herself.
“Take your clothes off,” he repeated and shrugged off his jacket, dropping it to the floor.
Her trembling hands went to the hem of her camisole.
“These are the ground rules,” he forced the words out between his teeth and took a step forward.
Automatically, Sibyl took a step back.
He stopped at her movement, his head tilted to the side and his eyes turned menacing.
He took another step towards her. She took another step back.
He started speaking again. “You always wear your hair down when you’re with me.”