Читать книгу Captivated by the Sheikh: For the Sheikh's Pleasure / In the Sheikh's Arms / Sheikh Surgeon - Annie West - Страница 10

ROSALIE wrenched her hand away. Dismay lit her face.

And something else. A dazzling instant of connection that told Arik he was right. She too felt the surge of desire between them. She wanted him and it scared her. He read vulnerability in her eyes, in the twist of her lips.

‘No!’ Her eyes boggled. ‘I mean—’

‘You’re not interested in a short romance?’

She shook her head and long strands of rose gilt swirled around her neck. ‘No. No, I’m not.’

His eyes narrowed as he took in her clenched fists, the rapid rise and fall of her breasts, her stormy eyes.

If he were a sensitive soul his ego might have been bruised by her vehemence. Instead he saw beyond her rejection to the inner pain she couldn’t conceal. There was something there. Some deep-seated fear that made her deny him, and herself, the pleasure they would find together.

For an instant, impatience, pique at the unprecedented rejection, threatened to swamp him. Then sense reasserted itself. Much as she denied it, Rosalie was ripe for him. She couldn’t conceal her body’s eagerness. Or the way her eyes devoured him when she thought he wasn’t aware.

He’d need time to thaw her shell of ice. But then, didn’t he have time on his hands? She was a delectable challenge, yet with patience he’d triumph over her caution. He knew it. And victory would taste like paradise.

The certainty of her surrender added piquancy to the situation. Maybe he was jaded by easy conquests. The knowledge that he’d need his wits as well as charm to seduce her merely fired his determination to have her.

He would play a waiting game. For now.

‘I apologise for embarrassing you, Rosalie.’ Her eyes were huge in her face. ‘Forgive me.’

She swallowed down hard. He watched the convulsive movement of her throat and tried not to wonder how soft her skin would be there. How tender the spot under the corner of her jaw, and further up her neck, just below her ear.

‘That’s it?’ Her brow furrowed. ‘You don’t mind?’

‘I’d rather you took a different view. We would find much pleasure together.’ Pink bloomed in her cheeks, darkened and spread, as he held her gaze.

Her blushes delighted him. The illusion that she was virtually untouched, untutored in the realms of sexual passion, held a strange appeal. He wondered if the blush extended down across her breasts to her peaked nipples.

‘You asked what I wanted and I told you. But as you don’t want an affair, let us concentrate on our lunch.’

‘As simple as that?’ Disbelief echoed in her tone.

‘As simple as that.’ It was a good thing she didn’t know how badly he wanted her. How intense was his desire. How eagerly he anticipated her eventual capitulation.

‘But surely…’ Frowning, she shook her head again as if to clear it. ‘It would be better if I left.’

‘Not at all. I’m looking forward to your opinion on our local fare.’ He turned to reach for a plate.

‘Still, I should go.’ She made to rise and Arik fought the impulse to snare her hand.

‘And your painting? You wish to leave that too?’

That stopped her in mid-movement, her expression arrested. But only for a moment. ‘That’s all right. I wasn’t sure it would turn out well anyway.’

‘You’re a very bad liar, Rosalie. Has no one told you that before? Of course it’s good. It’s more than good.’ He knew enough to understand Rosalie Winters had real talent.

‘Nevertheless—’ the jut of her chin sharpened ‘—it’s only a painting. It’s not worth…’

‘You think I ask you to prostitute yourself for the sake of a painting?’ Okay, so he’d used her art to get close to her. But pride rebelled at her idea that he’d blackmail her into bed. The doubt in her eyes fuelled his anger, tightened the muscles across his neck and shoulders.

‘I am not quite as needy as that, Rosalie.’

‘I didn’t mean to insult you.’ Her voice was a muffled whisper, yet she met his eyes. ‘But I don’t know you.’

Curtly he nodded. Women needed to protect themselves.

‘Let me assure you, on my word as sheikh of my people, I would never force you into intimacy. If my own scruples aren’t enough, remember I’m a public figure. Any wrongdoing on my part would swiftly become widely known.’

He watched her troubled face and, for a moment, wished he hadn’t told her what was on his mind. It was too soon.

‘I have never taken what was not freely offered.’ He paused, letting her weigh his words.

Her eyes, shadowed and doubting, held his. He was losing her. The sudden appalling notion crowded his brain and he felt as if someone had punched him hard in the gut.

The intensity of his reaction didn’t make sense. For all her intoxicating allure she was just a woman. There would be plenty of those when he returned to his normal life. Women eager and impatient for his attention.

Why did his heart thud harder as he waited for her to say goodbye?

‘I would rather finish.’ Her gaze slid from his as she half turned to watch the waves shushing in on the beach. ‘But it wouldn’t feel right, knowing you want more.’

He shrugged as relief hummed through him. ‘Men often look and want. But we don’t always get what we desire.’

His experience was different; he made it his business always to get what he wanted. No need to tell her that.

Her head swung round and their eyes met. He felt the impact in his tightening lungs. He wanted to thread a hand through the shimmering silk of her hair and pull her close. He wanted to taste her, not her hand this time, but her lips: lush, ripe, inviting. He wanted to explore her body, discover the places that triggered delight and ecstasy.

Slowly he exhaled. Patience. It would take time to breach the barrier of her distrust. She was as flighty as a newborn colt. Easily scared.

He summoned a smile and held out a plate. ‘Let’s enjoy lunch before it spoils. I will bring my horse to the beach each morning while you paint. In the afternoons we will view the local sights. Simple. No strings attached.’

Simple, he’d said.

Rosalie stared out the window of the four-wheel drive and knew this was anything but simple. All afternoon as they’d toured the old town, she’d struggled against the force of his personality, his magnetic attractiveness. Against desire and a burgeoning curiosity that undermined her determination to keep her distance.

She was losing the fight.

She should have left him at the beach. No matter that she wanted to feel it again, that rush of excitement when he looked at her with such searing intensity.

Perversely, it was his anger that had made her stay. The fury in his jet-dark eyes. Arik Ben Hassan had been genuinely outraged at the suggestion he might force his attentions. Pride had made his head jerk up, his eyes narrow in flashing denial and his hands curl into fists.

Rosalie wondered if the idea was outside his code of ethics. Or was it the hint that he might need to coerce any female to succumb to him? No doubt he cut a swathe through women with his looks and air of lazy sensuality.

Either way, she’d known with absolute certainty that he wouldn’t use force. He might tempt and persuade, but he’d respect her wishes. She was safe: while she wanted to be.

The thought sent a skitter of feral excitement down her spine. Did he guess how she felt?

‘I like the way the new buildings in the city blend in with the old,’ she said abruptly, conscious that the silence had lengthened between them as he drove.

‘I’m glad you approve. Planning sympathetic redevelopment has been a major issue for us.’ His smooth voice drew her skin tight and tingling.

‘You’re involved in the planning?’ She cut him a curious sideways glance.

He shrugged broad shoulders as he manoeuvred round a tight curve. ‘I am the Sheikh. It is expected.’

She’d seen that amazing house, the obvious wealth he commanded, but hadn’t considered the responsibilities of his position. Silly, considering what she knew of her brother-in-law’s punishing workload.

‘I suppose your official duties keep you busy.’

‘Busy enough. But my work often takes me away.’

He had a job too? She’d imagined him living the good life, flitting from city to city, and woman to woman.

His dark eyes danced as he turned to her. His lips curled up in a smile that made her insides liquefy. How did he do that with just one slow, sexy grin?

‘You’re surprised I work?’ He turned back to the road.

‘I…suppose I assumed that you didn’t need to.’

He nodded. ‘But inactivity does not suit me. I couldn’t loll about growing fat and idle.’

He’d never be fat. He had too much vigour. Even in repose his lean body was a study in power and leashed energy. She blinked and watched the road rather than let her gaze drift appreciatively over him.

‘What sort of work do you do?’

‘I manage a resources enterprise.’ His deep voice sent a trickle of warmth down her spine.

‘An oil company, you mean?’

‘Oil and other things. We invest in renewable energy too. We’re even experimenting in generating electricity from the sea.’

‘You’re not content to make your money from oil?’ She’d heard Q’aroum had enough reserves to maintain it as one of the world’s wealthiest states for generations.

‘We’re an island nation, Rosalie. We have a vested interest in combating climate change and rising sea levels. Besides, a man needs a challenge.’

His tone hinted that he wasn’t just talking about power generation. Or maybe it was the sudden wide white grin that slashed across his face as he shot her a look.

She felt the whole impact of his personality focused on her. It was a tangible thing, a potent force. There was a rushing in her ears, like water flooding past, blocking the sound of nearby traffic. The late afternoon sun seemed to dim as she stared back at him, aware of her skin prickling on her neck and her lungs squeezing tight.

She had to be careful with this man. The feelings he evoked were too much. Too potent. Too new. Too tempting.

‘I’ll have you back to your hotel soon.’

She opened her mouth to explain that she wasn’t staying at a hotel and then snapped it shut. Better if he didn’t know she was staying alone in the house Rafiq had organised.

Arik had been a perfect gentleman all afternoon. Yet there was a restlessness about him, an edginess that warned her he wasn’t as easygoing as he seemed. Something simmered behind that relaxed expression. Self-preservation cautioned her against revealing where she was staying.

‘Thanks,’ she said as they approached one of the two hotels on this coastal road. ‘You can drop me here.’

‘I’ll see you to your door.’

Rosalie sucked in a deep breath. ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’ He stopped the car and regarded her through narrowing eyes, his brows rising.

‘You’re not exactly incognito.’ She remembered the excited pleasure with which he’d been greeted wherever they went. ‘So I’d rather go in alone.’ She wondered if he saw through her subterfuge. It was true as far as it went. She didn’t want to draw attention to herself.

‘Very well.’ He inclined his head. ‘We will not court gossip.’ Then he got out and fetched her canvas bag from the back while she fumbled with her seatbelt.

His hand was warm and hard as he helped her out. A tremor shot up her arm at his touch, ripping right through any illusion that she was impervious to him.

‘Thank you for the pleasure of your company, Rosalie.’

He lifted her hand to his lips. Her eyelids flickered as he pressed a kiss there. A jolt of something very like lightning speared through her. The swirl of reaction in her abdomen grew to a spiralling twist of aching emptiness.

It lasted an instant, only that. But it was enough to jolt Rosalie back to her senses.

She tugged back her hand as if stung. That empty yearning feeling was too real, too powerful to be safe.

‘Until tomorrow, then.’ His eyes were fathomless, deep as the night and just as impenetrable.

Rosalie turned away. Tomorrow, if she had any sense, she’d take the first flight out from here.

She was late. Arik narrowed his eyes against the slanting rays of dawn light and stared down the beach.

Had he erred yesterday? Should he have pressed his advantage when he’d read the need so clear in her eyes?

No. He’d given his word he’d respect her wishes. She was nervous, fighting to resist what was between them. As if she could push back the inevitable flood-tide of desire.

He wondered at her naïvety. Their attraction had been instantaneous, so urgent and all-consuming that even he, with his experience, couldn’t ignore it. It was a constant fire in the blood, a gnawing hunger in the pit of his belly. He felt wired, restive and alert. Sleep was elusive, replaced by hours imagining her in his bed. Or naked, almost anywhere: in the window seat of his room, on a silk-covered divan or down here on the fine-grained sand.

The only way out was to assuage this need for mutual satisfaction. His lips curved in a taut smile. Prolonged mutual satisfaction.

Rosalie had much to learn and he would enjoy contributing to her education. Anticipation hummed through him, tightening his groin, his thighs, his hands on the reins. He nudged Layla till she gathered herself into a thudding gallop. The thunder of her hooves teamed with the beat of blood in his ears: heavy, urgent, racing.

They reached the point and there was Rosalie, walking from the next beach. Arik reined in, watching her falter to a stop. Her stance was wary, as if she were in two minds whether to scurry back to the safety of her hotel.

Eventually, as he’d known she would, she resumed her stride towards him. He should be pleased. Triumphant even. He had her now, he knew. Or close enough that, with a little effort, he could have what he wanted from her.

Yet the emotion filling him wasn’t triumph. It was fury. At the unprecedented level of his earlier disappointment. At the unadulterated relief that swept him now, making him for a few moments light-headed.

Since when had he been dependent on any woman? Pleasure, companionship, mutual enjoyment—that was what he sought from the women in his life. But this raw, visceral need that threatened all sense of proportion? That drove him with the force of pure compulsion? This wasn’t right.

He watched her approach, her head up to meet his gaze, a gesture at odds with the defensive way she clutched that bag to her. Arik felt a surge of unexpected protectiveness.

But it was overborne by anger that she should unsettle him so. He was aroused to the edge of pain just watching her. And his indecisiveness as he’d debated ringing her hotel had been uncharacteristic. He was too needy.

Lust had never been like this. It shouldn’t be like this. It had always been a pleasure to be savoured. Now for the first time, desire was a blood-deep craving. As if more was at stake than the pleasure of a woman’s body. As if he felt far more than physical need.

Arik clenched his jaw at the absurd notion, angrier still at that flight of fancy. He urged his mount forward.

Rosalie wished she’d stayed away. What did it matter if her painting remained unfinished? Or if she never saw him again? She knew now that with effort she would paint. And as for her reaction to him…better to ignore that.

Yet like a moth to a candle she was drawn against her will along the beach. With every step she’d known this was dangerous, the sort of impetuous act she’d always avoided.

But then, a demon inner voice taunted, where did playing safe get you? She’d been perennially sensible, so cautious with men, and look where that had landed her!

She clasped her bag closer, wondering yet again how big a mistake she was making.

Then she saw him, a study in masculine grace and arrogance as he sat his magnificent Arab mount. Instantly she had her answer. Error or not, she couldn’t have stayed away. The rapid-fire tumult of her pulse, the constriction of her lungs, the swirling heat all told the same story. She had to be here. Owed it to herself to discover what it was about this man that spoke to her innermost being, to the self she’d kept hidden for years now. The self that, at nineteen-and-a-half, had been brutally silenced, locked away by the force of grief and hate and despair.

More than three years had passed and suddenly that other Rosalie Winters, the one who’d secretly yearned for fantasy and adventure, was back, slipping under her guard.

She gritted her teeth and resumed walking. Foolish she might be, but she’d never again be the unthinking innocent she’d been at nineteen. She’d learned her lesson well. If she took any chances they’d be on her terms.

Nevertheless, as Arik’s horse plunged close, its hooves lifting high to a resounding rhythm, she couldn’t repress a thrill of mixed trepidation and excitement.

‘I thought you weren’t coming.’ His deep voice held a note of accusation as it rumbled in her ear.

‘I almost didn’t,’ she replied, annoyed as he circled. Man and beast together were awesomely beautiful—as he knew. He probably stayed up there so she could admire him.

That was the sort of man he was, she reminded herself, ignoring yesterday’s revelations. She squashed the fact that he worked hard despite his wealth. Easier to deal with Arik Ben Hassan if she could peg him as a rich playboy.

Yet she followed his every move with hungry attention. He was so vibrantly male, so attractive. Her imagination hadn’t embroidered a single detail. He was devastating.

‘You would have reneged on our bargain?’ His expression was severe, as if no one ever had the temerity to inconvenience him.

Rosalie stepped away, preferring not to dwell on the fact that he could read her so easily. ‘It’s only a temporary arrangement. I wouldn’t have thought you’d mind.’

He swung the mare round to walk beside her. ‘I’d have minded very much,’ he murmured and, despite her best intentions, Rosalie found herself looking up into midnight-dark eyes. Tension pulsed between them, the sizzle of unspoken connection that had no parallel in her experience.

‘Then you should be pleased that I’m here after all.’

For two heartbeats he held her gaze, then the shadows fled. He smiled and something tumbled over in her chest at the zap of magnetism between them.

‘And so I am, Rosalie. Very pleased.’ His voice dropped to a deep sultry murmur that reverberated in her bloodstream, tingled through her body and awakened every nerve-ending.

Why, oh why, hadn’t she stayed away?

Because you’ve never felt so incredibly alive as you do here, with him.

‘You’re not having second thoughts, are you?’ He dismounted to stand beside her on the sand. With only a metre between them the space seemed too intimate.

‘Perhaps. Should I?’

He shook his head and reached out, his fingers closing around hers, hard, warm and strong. It felt so right.

‘No.’ He tugged gently, bringing her closer. She saw herself reflected in his eyes. ‘I will never hurt you. You have my word of honour.’ Her thudding heartbeat echoed the pulse throbbing at the base of his neck. ‘Trust me?’

She hesitated. She had nothing but his words and her instincts to guide her. Yet there was no doubt in her mind.

‘Yes. I trust you, Arik.’

‘Good.’ A spark of emotion flared in his eyes, his hand tightened around hers and a wave of excitement washed over her. His gaze snared hers and her breath crammed in her throat at the intensity of his expression. ‘You know what I want, Rosalie, but that must be your decision.’

She shook her head. ‘But I’ve told you that I won’t—’ Her words ended on a hiss of indrawn breath as he lifted her hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

‘Perhaps you may change your mind.’ His mouth moving against her skin was subtly erotic. She stiffened her spine against the need to slump in a wanting heap at his feet.

Now was the time to turn away and make her excuses. She wasn’t sophisticated enough to play these provocative games of seduction. ‘I’m not sure…’

Her words petered out into a sigh as he turned her hand and planted a tender kiss on the centre of her palm. A kiss that sent shockwaves of heat spearing through her. Her knees trembled at the force of them.

‘Nothing is sure,’ Arik murmured, caressing her with his lips as he spoke. ‘Can we not simply enjoy each other’s company for a few days and see where it leads us?’

To perdition, probably. Rosalie sucked a huge breath into her starved lungs, but it wasn’t enough to restore her equilibrium. Not when his hot breath hazed her skin and his lips hovered a bare centimetre from her throbbing pulse.

She tugged her hand free and whipped it behind her back, terrified she might beg him to kiss her there again.

‘You’ll be disappointed.’ She might be desperate for his caresses, but she wasn’t completely foolhardy.

‘Then so be it.’ His smile gave nothing away.

The morning disappeared rapidly once Rosalie focused on her work and not the insidious twist of excitement low in her belly, testament to Arik’s lethal attraction. But now and then, as she looked across the beach, his head would lift, his eyes meet hers and she’d feel the heavy throb of awareness in the crisp morning air.

Too soon the morning was over. Her canvas was taken to Arik’s home. They’d eaten lunch and now they were alone in the opulent marquee that passed for a beach shelter. For all their small talk about art and local sights, Rosalie was acutely conscious of their isolation. The undercurrents eddying in the lengthening silence unnerved her.

She shot him a look, relieved to find that for once his attention was elsewhere. He seemed absorbed in the view of sea and sand, the distant blue shadow of an island.

His profile was arresting, etched with stark, sure lines comprising a whole that was more than handsome. There was intelligence in his high brow, or perhaps that was because she’d learned how perceptive he was. His eyes were piercing, un-settlingly so when they rested on her. His mouth—there was something innately sensual about the curve of his lips—the way it quirked readily into a smile that invited shared laughter. Or pleasure.

Her stomach dipped. He was a man who understood physical pleasure. It was obvious in the way he caressed her hand, the sensuous light in his eyes when he spoke of desire. His look held a promise of gratification. And, if she wanted, he could share that knowledge, that expertise with her. She had only to say the word and Arik would take her to places, to pleasure, so long denied her.

The knowledge was heady, tempting. Frightening.

How could she even consider his proposition?

Because you’re lonely. Because there’s something missing in your life. Because there’s something about this man that overrides a lifetime’s caution and makes you long for the passion you’ve never had.

She looked at him and she felt hot. Her skin prickled as if it no longer fitted. Her lungs couldn’t process enough oxygen. There was a tingling, heavy sensation inside that kept her on edge, an aching sense of emptiness.

Suddenly his eyes were on her. Dark and gleaming with a heat that scorched her skin to a fiery blush. He knew what she felt, she realised in amazement.

He understood.

She read the reflection of her own burgeoning need in the haunted expression of his eyes. In the tic of a pulse at his jaw. Even the compressed line of his mouth mirrored the confused tension pulling her body taut.

His lips curved up in that sexy crooked smile but there was no humour in his gaze this time.

‘You feel it too.’ His voice was low and sure, sending a ripple of reaction through every nerve. ‘You feel what’s between us, don’t you, Rosalie?’

She shook her head in denial. But she couldn’t pull her gaze from his. It was as if some force trapped her.

‘There’s no need to lie,’ he said and there was a glimmer of amusement in his look. ‘You won’t be singed by a bolt of lightning for admitting the truth. There’s nothing shameful about desire between a man and a woman.’

Rosalie’s breath caught high in her throat as his words echoed through her head. Desire.

He was right. That was exactly what she felt. Raw, unadulterated desire for the man before her. She shivered.

‘But I’m not interested in becoming some playmate to keep a rich man from boredom.’ It came out in a rush.

His stare hardened to a laser-bright glitter, keen and cutting. She’d gone too far. His face drew tight with repressed anger, accentuating his aristocratic bone structure. The pulse at his jaw raced to a frenetic beat.

She’d blurted out the first thing that came into her numbed brain. But in this part of the world men called all the shots. Automatically she shrank back, expecting an explosion of outraged fury.

‘You Australians believe in directness, don’t you?’ One dark brow winged up at an arrogant angle. Then he frowned, as if noticing her shuffled withdrawal.

Instantly his expression of stifled fury eased, replaced by a watching stillness.

‘There’s no need to be afraid to express your opinions.’ His voice was calm but there was no mistaking its harsh rasping edge. As if he battled for self-control.

His eyes held hers and she knew he meant it. Relief relaxed her muscles. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, wondering how he’d read her sudden fear. ‘That was insulting.’

‘You should not apologise.’ His words cut across hers. ‘You spoke the truth as you saw it.’

They stared at each other across the narrow space and once more Rosalie could have sworn he understood her confusion and fear. Understood far too much.

‘I regret that you see my interest as cheapening.’ He paused, as if the word left a sour taste. ‘I have always regarded my love affairs as liaisons between equals.’

What could she say? Embarrassment flooded her but she could survive that. She’d survived much worse.

‘Though I suppose,’ he murmured, ‘in this case it would be an unequal relationship.’

He was admitting it? Surely no man was that honest.

‘After all, the power is squarely in your hands.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ Surely she was hearing things.

He shrugged those impressive shoulders. ‘Don’t be naïve, Rosalie. I want to become your lover.’ His voice dropped so low that she felt it resonate deep inside, creating a hollow, wanting ache. ‘I’ve said I won’t do anything you don’t want me to. I’d stop at a single word.’

His eyes were so bright now they seared her.

‘So that means you have all the power in this relationship. You can ask for what you want. Whatever you want. And I’ll give it to you.’

There was no mistaking the look on his face. Sex. That was what he was talking about.

‘But,’ he continued, ‘you only have to say no and I’d be obliged to stop.’

Rosalie drew in a shaky breath, aware of moist heat blossoming across her skin. She bit her lip, striving for control against the illicit thrill coursing through her.

She shouldn’t want him. She didn’t need any man. Especially one as self satisfied and knowing as this one.

But that didn’t prevent a surge of excitement. She could ask for whatever she wanted. As much or as little as she chose and he’d respect her wishes. She’d be safe.

‘That wouldn’t be right or fair.’ Her voice was breathless, unsteady. ‘It’d be better if I left.’ But how would she find the strength to walk away and not look back?

‘I never took you for a coward, Rosalie.’ His deep voice fell like a stone in the silence between them.

She jerked her head around. ‘Just because I don’t want to play these games doesn’t make me a coward.’

‘Doesn’t it?’ Again one superior eyebrow lifted in query. ‘Then what are you afraid of, if not yourself?’

Rosalie sucked in a breath. She wasn’t afraid. She was cautious. He was far beyond her league.

Why then, did the idea of intimacy with him appeal so much? Why this excitement at the notion of exploring those sensations and cravings she’d so long repressed?

Her mother had hinted it was unhealthy for her to avoid personal contact with men as much as she had. What would her mum say about the unrelenting forces building within her right now? The temptation to say yes?

‘I’m not afraid,’ she lied.

‘Good.’ He leaned towards her till her whole world was encompassed by the brilliance of his dark eyes, the strength of his powerful shoulders blotting out the view and the warmth of his body reaching out to her.

‘It’s not fear I want from you, Rosalie.’ His words were warm against her cheek. But he came no closer. An invisible barrier remained between them. The protection of his promise. Power rested solely in her hands.

Black, burning eyes met hers. The flare of his nostrils told her he registered it too—the faint musky aroma. The scent of arousal. From her skin? From his?

And yet he didn’t move.

‘Ahmed will bring the four-wheel drive soon,’ he said.

Rosalie swallowed and swiped the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip. His gaze flickered and held.

‘Is there anything you want before he arrives?’ His words were barely audible over the thunder of her pulse.

‘No. Nothing.’ Yet her voice sounded like a sigh of wind, an echo of the soft waves on the beach.

‘Are you sure?’ he whispered.

She bit her lip to prevent herself from saying anything stupid. Arik was seduction on two legs and she had precious few defences against him. ‘No,’ she muttered again.

‘No, you don’t want anything? Or no, you’re not sure?’

He was close enough for her to feel encompassed by the sheer strength of the man. His hands were planted on either side of her hips, his fingers splayed across the rich fabric of the carpet. His chest was like a wall, pressing her back, despite the fact that he didn’t touch her. His gaze held hers, like a bird enmeshed in a net.

‘I…’ The words died in her throat as she realised what she wanted. What she craved from him.

‘A kiss, perhaps? Just one to satisfy your curiosity?’ His mouth curled up in a smile that stopped her pulse for a beat. ‘Surely you’ve wondered what it would be like, just a simple kiss between us?’

If only he’d looked smug she’d have been able to summon the will-power to push him away. But there was only the glow of invitation in his eyes. The temptation to pleasure in his curving lips.

‘Yes,’ she heard herself whisper on a sigh of surrender. ‘I’ve wondered.’

‘Good,’ he murmured. ‘In that we are equals.’ His smile faded. ‘Relax, Rosalie. You are safe with me.’

He leaned even closer, paused with his mouth an infinitesimal fraction away. He waited long enough for her to absorb the scent of his skin, adjust to the power and heat of his body almost touching hers, for her to taste his breath on her lips and to want more.

Then he slanted his mouth over hers and the world disappeared into a whirling blur as he took her mouth with his.