Drake Sisters 06 - Turbulent Sea

bordered on obsession.
    He was why she couldn't sleep. He was why her body felt hot and tight. She wanted to claw at everything and everybody. She swallowed fear and stood still, afraid that if she moved, if he touched her, she would wrap herself around him and be lost forever.
    'Paul.' Ilya said the bodyguard's name in a low voice, but one that carried the razor edge of a knife.
    'I suggest you keep your hands to yourself.'
    'I see you've come to save your boss's little pet,' Paul said.
    Despite his bravado, Joley found it significant that not only did Paul move away from her, but all of the other men did as well, including RJ.
    'He sent me out to save you,' Ilya corrected. 'Getting your ass kicked by a girl would be embarrassing, especially with so many people watching.' He caught Joley's wrist and tugged until she came to his side. Instead of placing her beneath his shoulder, he brought her just one step behind him so he could shield her body should he have to. 'Sergei is waiting for you, RJ.'
    'He's the Reverend,' Paul corrected. 'Everyone calls him Reverend.'
    Ilya merely stared at the man until he shepherded RJ and the others up the walkway to the house.
    In the ensuing silence, Joley feared Ilya might be able to hear her heart beating. She tried not to notice the width of shoulders, or the heavy muscles on his chest. He wasn't obvious about his strength until you got up close, but more than his physique, more than his perfect masculine body and his tough, heart-stopping face, she was drawn to his mental strength and intellect.
    Everyone gave in to Joley. Everyone wanted to please her. She was strong, smart, famous, wealthy, and she had the gift of sound. With all that, she was beautiful, with satin skin, bedroom eyes and a sexy, curvaceous body. She was also stubborn and liked her way. She could read people - except for Ilya. He was every bit as smart, every bit as strong, and he had every single psychic gift her family had, each well developed. Aside from that, he was the sexiest thing alive and she was mesmerized by him.
    'Trouble?' His gaze followed the men before he turned his full attention on her. Those ice-blue eyes drifted possessively over her face and down her body, touching her breasts, sliding over the curve of her hips and down her legs with a long, slow perusal that should have struck her as rude but instead sent her pulse skyrocketing.
    Her entire body reacted with scorching heat. She felt herself go damp. Even her breath came in a little rush, lifting her breasts and unsettling her even more. Her face flushed. He knew what he did to her.
    He turned her hand over, the hand he had zapped with some sort of spell months ago, the hand imprinted with his touch, his scent, the hand that marked her as belonging to him. It had happened so fast - in a little place on her home turf. She'd been dancing and he'd come in with his boss. Even then she could barely breathe when she saw him. And now, thanks to the little psychic mark he'd branded her with, she could always sense where he was, and how much her body craved his. Her palm - his mark - itched. And nothing seemed to alleviate the itch but Ilya being close.
    Pride demanded she pull away from him, but the pad of his thumb moved in a delicious pattern over her palm. She felt each stroke humming through her bloodstream. Her womb clenched, and she felt the flood of liquid heat begging to welcome him deep inside her where he already seemed to live.
    'It's got to be said, Joley, your driver-slash-bodyguard seems a bit useless to me.' He flashed Steve, still in the car, a look of contempt and tugged on her hand until she followed him, moving out of the glare of the floodlights, into the deeper shadows where reporters might not notice that Joley Drake had come to Nikitin's party.
    'You've got to stay away from the Reverend and his moronic group of badasses, Joley,' he added. 'They're capable of doing you great harm.'
    'I know.' She did know. And she wanted her hand back, because if he kept it up, she was going to strip and fling herself into his arms and she'd never forgive herself.
    'I'd have to kill them. You know I would. Just stay away from them.'
    'No one ever has to kill anyone.' She wanted to cry - or scream in pure frustration. He was so matter-of-fact about it, as if killing could solve the world's problems instead of being the world's problem.
    'You're naive to think that, Joley,' he said softly and brought her hand to his mouth. His lips were firm