Original Source Unknown)
Antje sensed rather than heard him approach. The fine hair on her neck rose in response to him, seconds before his scent enveloped her. The slight pressure to her back, as he placed his hand on her bare skin sent shivers of awareness up her spine. She didn’t need the visual reminder of her Sir’s presence in the reaction of the man who’d been trying—unsuccessfully— to chat her up. The nervous swallow, the widening of his eyes, the involuntary step back, and the hands held up in surrender.
“Haven’t you got somewhere else to be, Brian? If you’ve quite finished harassing my date…”
Antje’s lips twitched to see the wannabe Casanova turn ashen under his tan.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t…that is… I… I’ve got that thing I need to take care of… yes, right.”
Brian made a hasty retreat, mumbling under his breath, and Antje couldn’t suppress her giggle any longer. Amusement, which dissipated when Sir spun her around, and grasping her neck pulled her right up against him.
“Do you need a reminder who you belong to, little dove?” His deep, delicious growl trembled through her.
Antje closed her eyes, and breathed her denial.
“No, I’m yours, Sir.”
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