His slap was hard. A red mark rose on her buttocks where he had hit her. Her whole bottom tingled. "Oh, don't," she cried, knowing that he would do it...again and excite her even further. He slapped her again and the soft flesh of her smooth, silky buttocks quivered like flaccid jelly."You'd even go to bed with that brute, Monroe, if he came to you," he said, his voice feigning a threat. Monroe was Peter Grant's bodyguard. He had been a former professional football player and his six foot five. "Idiot ... stupid ... jerk," Tabby was mumbling into my bare chest, still crying. I stroked her hair, now thoroughly nonplussed. I had no idea what to do with a crying girl, and I guess no man really does, even if he lives to be a hundred.Finally she sniffled and looked up, her face red, those big brown eyes puffy and snot under her nose. "Don't ever do that again, you hear?" Hey, it wasn't my fault," I protested, now feeling a little irritated. "I didn't try to drown on purpose." Yeah but you. More

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