Читать книгу Desert Jewels - Эбби Грин, Annie West - Страница 11

HOW could he have been so damned stupid?

Tariq stared out of the window at the darkening London skyscape which gave his office its magnificent views. Stars were twinkling in the indigo sky, and in the distance he could see the stately dome of St Paul’s cathedral.

He should have been on top of the world.

The doctor had given him the all-clear, his car was in the garage being painstakingly mended, and his acquisition of the Premiership team looked almost certain. Khayarzah oil revenues were at an all-time high, and he had received an unexpected windfall from some media shares he’d scooped up last year. It seemed that everything he turned his hand to in the world of commerce flourished. In short, business was booming.

He turned away from the magnificent view, trying to put his finger on what was wrong. Wondering why this infuriating air of discontentment simply would not leave him—no matter how hard he tried to alleviate it.

He gave a ragged sigh, knowing all too well what lay at the heart of his irritation yet strangely reluctant to acknowledge its source. Its sweet and unexpected source…

Izzy.

His rescuer and tormentor. His calm and efficient assistant, with all her contradictory qualities, who had somehow—against all the odds—managed to capture his imagination.

Had it been pure arrogance which had made him so certain that his lust for her would dissolve the moment they were back in the office? He’d decided that the crash had weakened him in all ways—mentally, physically and emotionally. He’d thought that was why he had been so curiously susceptible to a woman he had never found in the least bit attractive. An insanity, yes—but a temporary one.

But he had been wrong.

Since being back at work he’d been unable to stop fantasising about her. Or to stop thinking about those prudish pyjamas which had covered up the red-hot body beneath. His mind kept taking him back to their tangled bodies on the floor of her cottage, reminding him of just how close they’d got. If common sense hadn’t forced him to call a halt to what was happening he would have…would have…

But it was more than just frustrated lust which was sending his blood pressure soaring. His desire was compounded by knowing that she was a virgin. That she had never known a man’s lovemaking before and she had wanted him. Just as he had wanted her.

He swallowed. The fact that she worked for him and that it was entirely inappropriate did little to lessen his appetite. On the contrary, the thought of making love to her excited him beyond belief—perhaps because it was his first ever taste of the forbidden. And for a man like Tariq very few things in life were forbidden…

His erotic thoughts were interrupted by the cause of his frustration as Izzy walked in, bearing a tiny cup of inky coffee which she deposited in front of him with a smile. Not the kind of smile he would have expected, in the circumstances. It was not tinged with longing, nor was it edged with a frustration similar to the one he was experiencing. No, it was a bright and infuriatingly sunny smile—a sort of pre-weekend kind of smile. As if she had forgotten all about those passion-fuelled moments back in her country cottage.

Had she?

‘You aren’t changing?’ she questioned.

Tariq blinked at her, her question arrowing into the confusing swirl of his thoughts. ‘Changing?’ he growled. ‘What’s wrong with the way I am?’

Isobel felt her heart hammer in response. Oh, but he was edgy this evening! Even edgier than he’d been all week. Mind you, she’d been feeling similarly jumpy—just determined not to show it. Her pride had been shattered by his rejection, and she was determined to salvage what was left of it by maintaining a cool air of composure. But it was difficult trying to pretend that nothing had happened when your boss had fondled your naked breasts and part of you was longing for him to do it all over again.

She tipped her head to one side and pretended to consider his question. ‘How long have you got?’

‘Izzy—’

‘I meant changing in a literal sense,’ she clarified, with a quick glance at her watch. ‘Aren’t you due for a party at the Maraban Embassy at seven? And don’t you usually wear something dark and tailored instead of…?’ Her bravado suddenly evaporated, her voice tailing off as she was momentarily distracted by his physical presence. Why had she allowed her eyes to linger on his physique, when she had determinedly been avoiding it all week?

‘Instead of what, Izzy?’ he questioned silkily, for he had noticed the sudden. rapid blinking of her eyes.

‘Instead of…’ She realised that he must have removed his tie at some point during the afternoon, and loosened at least two buttons of his shirt. Because rather more of his chest was on show than usual—and it reminded her of his warm, bare flesh beneath her fingertips on the floor of her cottage.

She could see the lush, dark whorls of hair growing there—which added texture to the olive glow of his skin and invited the eye on an inevitable path downwards…

Keep your mind on the job, she urged herself fiercely. You’re not supposed to be lusting after him—remember?

‘It’s…it’s a formal event, isn’t it?’ she finished helplessly.

Tariq felt a brief moment of triumph as he saw her eyes darken. So she was not completely immune to him—despite the way she’d been behaving all week. His mouth hardened with grudging respect—for Izzy had shown herself to be made of sterner stuff than he would have thought. Since they’d been back in the office she had treated him with exactly the same blend of roguish yet respectful attitude as she’d done all through their professional relationship. As if his being moments away from penetrating her body had left her completely cold. So was that true? Or was it all some kind of act?

He let his eyes drift over her, wondering if she had decided to showcase the dullest items in her wardrobe. Maybe he’d seen that skirt before—and her pale sweater certainly wasn’t new—but she looked dowdier than he could ever remember. Was that deliberate? Or was it because now he knew more about her he was looking at her more closely? Comparing how she looked now to how she’d looked when she had been writhing around beneath him? And he couldn’t rid himself of the unsettling knowledge of the magnificent rose-tipped and creamy breasts which lay beneath her insipid armour.

‘Yes, it’s a formal event,’ he drawled. ‘And, to be truthful, I don’t feel like going.’

‘But you have to go, Tariq.’

‘Have to?’ He raised his brows. ‘Is that an order?’

‘No, of course it isn’t.’

He began to walk towards her, noticing the tip of her tongue as it snaked out to moisten her lips ‘Why do I have to?’ he queried softly.

‘Well, your two countries are neighbours, and you’ve just signed that big trade agreement, and it will look very b-bad if…if…’

He heard her stumbled words with a triumphant kick of pleasure. ‘If what?’

Isobel swallowed. What was going on? What was he doing? The gap between them was closing, and instinct made her step backwards—away from his inexorable path towards her. But there was no escaping him despite the massive dimensions of his office. Nowhere to go until she reached a wall and felt its smooth, cool surface at her back. She stared up at him with widened eyes. Wasn’t he breaking the agreement they’d made?

‘T-Tariq! What do you think you’re doing?’

Pushing one hand against the wall right beside her head, he leaned forward and looked deep into her tawny eyes. ‘I’m wondering why you’re trying to give me lessons in protocol I neither want nor need. But mostly I’m wondering whether you’re feeling as frustrated as I am.’

Perhaps if he’d put it any other way than that Isobel might have given his question some consideration—or allowed her feelings to sway her. Because hadn’t she been teetering on a knife-edge of wanting him and yet terrified of letting him know that? Hadn’t it been as much as she could do each morning not to gaze wistfully at the sensual curve of his cynical lips? Not to wish that they were subjecting her to another of those hard and passionate kisses?

But his question had been more mechanical than emotional. No woman wanted to feel like an itch which a man needed to scratch, did she? And hadn’t she told herself over and over again that no matter how much she wanted him no good would come of any kind of liaison? She knew about his track record with women. And only someone who was completely insane would lay herself open to an inevitable hurt like that.

‘We aren’t supposed to be discussing this,’ she said flatly.

‘Aren’t we? Says who?’

‘Said you! And me! That’s what we agreed on back at the cottage. We agreed that it was a mistake. We’re supposed to be carrying on as normal and forgetting it ever happened.’

‘Maybe we are. But the trouble is…’ And now he leaned in a little further towards her, so that he could feel the warm fan of her rapid breathing. ‘The trouble is that I’m finding it difficult to forget it ever happened. In fact, it’s proving impossible. I keep thinking about how it felt to have you in my arms. About how wild your hair looks when you let it down. I keep remembering what it was like to kiss you, and how your breasts felt when I was touching them.’

‘Tariq,’ she whispered, as his words made her body spring into instant life and her mouth dried as she stared into his darkening eyes. ‘You were the one who stopped it. Remember?’

‘And I did that because you’re a virgin!’ he said, letting his hand fall by his side. ‘I decided I had no right to take your innocence from you. That you deserved a man who would cherish you more than I could ever do.’

‘Well, that much hasn’t changed. I haven’t rushed out and leapt into bed with someone else in the meantime. I’m still a virgin, Tariq.’

‘I realise that.’ Their gazes clashed as he fought to do the decent thing. ‘And I still don’t think it’s the right thing to do.’

She bit her lip. Was he playing games with her? ‘So why are we even having this conversation?’

For a moment he clenched his fists savagely by his thighs, telling himself that he had no right to take an innocence which would be better given to another man. A man who would love her and cherish her. Who was capable of giving her the things that every woman wanted.

But the soft, sweet tremble of her lips defeated his best intentions, and a ragged sigh shuddered from between his lips. ‘Because I’m finding resisting you harder than I anticipated.’

She stared into the heated gleam of his black eyes as a blend of frustration and emotion began to bubble up inside her and that sweet, terrible aching started all over again. ‘And what about what I think?’ she questioned quietly. ‘What if I’m finding resisting you harder than I thought?’

Once again he fought with his conscience, but this time it was even more difficult because he realised that Izzy was enchantingly unique. An innocent who was up-front about her needs. A woman who wasn’t playing coy games. The fists at his sides relaxed, and he lifted his hand and began to trace a light line around the butterfly tremble of her lips.

‘You know I can’t offer you anything in the way of commitment? That nothing long-term is going to come out of this? Three weeks is about my limit with any woman—you know that better than anyone, Izzy.’

She heard the stark warning in his words, but she wanted him too much to pay them any attention. And she was wise enough not to question him about why he was so adamant about short-term relationships. Maybe she’d ask him another time…just not now. Now she was fighting for something she wasn’t prepared to give up on.

‘You think that all virgins expect marriage from the first man they sleep with? Er, hello—and welcome to the twenty-first century! Aren’t I allowed to do something just because I want to—the way you always seem to do? Just for the hell of it?’

Tariq felt his resistance trickling away. Nobody could say he hadn’t tried—but it seemed that Izzy was intent on fighting him every inch of the way. Maybe this was the only solution to the otherwise unendurable prospect of the two of them dancing around each other every day, aching with frustrated need. And wasn’t there something about making love to her which appealed to him on a very fundamental level? Something which he had never done with any other woman…

‘For the hell of it? I think you’re selling yourself short. Why don’t we try a taste of heaven instead?’ he said, and he pulled her into his arms and let his mouth make a slow motion journey to meet hers.

She actually cried out with pleasure out as he began to kiss her, the taste and feel of his mouth seeming gloriously familiar. Gripping his shoulders, she dug her fingers into his suit jacket, afraid that her knees might give way if she didn’t have something to cling onto. And as the kiss grew deeper she could feel the hard jut of his hips, which framed the unmistakable evidence of his arousal. Recklessly she pressed her body closer still, making no protest when he began to ruck her skirt up, urging him on with a guttural little sound of hunger which didn’t sound a bit like her.

‘Damn tights,’ he ground out as his fingers met the least erotic piece of clothing ever designed by man. But he could feel the heat searing through them at the apex of her thighs, and the restless circling of her hips as he touched her there.

With practised ease he yanked them down, slithering them over her knees to her ankles. He knelt to slide off first one shoe and then the other—tossing them aside with the tights, so that they lay discarded. And then he rose again to take her in his arms.

Maybe he should have carried her across to one of the plush sofas which comprised the more casual meeting area of his office. Stripped her off slowly and provocatively as she doubtlessly deserved. But for the first time in his life Tariq couldn’t bear the thought of delaying this for a second longer than was necessary. Her wide eyes and quickened breath were doing something inexplicable to him. He felt unaccountably primitive… as if his desire to possess her was urging him along on a dark and unstoppable tide.

He touched her against her panties, heard her make some yelping little sound of pleasure and frustration as he ripped them apart. Then he unzipped himself with a shaking hand, freeing the leaden spring of his erection with a ragged sigh of relief.

She was wet and ready for him, clinging to him eagerly as he thrust into her—hard and deep and without warning. Yet it still came as a shock as he encountered a momentary resistance, and he stilled as he heard her make a little moan of discomfort.

‘Aludra!’ he choked out, stopping inside her to give her the chance to acclimatise herself to these new sensations. Holding her close, he bent his lips to her ear. ‘Did I hurt you, little Izzy?’

She shook her head. ‘If you did, then I’ve forgotten. Please don’t stop,’ she whispered back, giving a little yelp of pleasure as he began to move inside her. ‘It feels…’ She closed her eyes and expelled a shuddering breath. ‘Oh, Tariq, it feels…incredible.’

It felt pretty incredible for him, too. Especially when she wrapped her legs around his back with athletic skill. But it was more than that. He’d never done it like this before. Had never felt this free. This powerful. Was that because it was Izzy? A woman who knew him better than any other woman? Didn’t that add an extra piquant layer of desire? Or was it because there was no infernal covering of thin rubber between them? He could feel the soft squash of her buttocks as he cupped them, and the deep molten tightness of her body as it welcomed him. He could hear her soft exclamations of pleasure and astonishment, and that too reminded him of the reality.

She’s never done this with anyone else.

That possessive thought only sharpened his hunger, and he shuddered with pleasure as he drove deeper and deeper inside her. He spoke to her in half-forgotten words of Khayarzahian as they moved in ancient rhythm, until he heard her make a helpless little cry and felt her begin to convulse around him.

She gasped his name and clutched at his shoulders like a woman who was drowning, and then at last he let go. And it was like nothing he’d ever experienced. One sweet and erotic spasm after another racked through him, until he felt as if he’d been wrung out and left to dry. Her head fell against his shoulder and he could feel the quiver of her unsteady breath as she panted against his neck. Her legs slipped down from his waist and he wrapped his arms around hers and held her very close.

He didn’t know how long they stayed like that—just that it seemed like warm and satiated bliss. As if they were in their own private and very erotic bubble. Until he felt himself begin to harden again inside her and knew that he had to move.

Reluctantly he withdrew from her, tilting her face upwards with his hand. Her cheeks were flushed, and some of the Titian corkscrew curls had come loose and were falling untidily around her shoulders. She looked as wanton as any woman could—and light-years away from the woman who had placed a cup of coffee in front of him not long ago.

He felt…dazed. And for the first time in his life slightly bewildered. That had been incredible. And yet slightly perturbing too, for he could never remember being so out of control before.

Pushing away any remaining doubts, he brushed a dancing corkscrew strand away from her lips, recognising that a latent sense of guilt would serve no useful purpose. ‘Well, I don’t remember that being in your job description,’ he murmured.

Isobel took her lead from him. She was obviously supposed to keep it light. Her lips curved into a coquettish smile she’d never used before. ‘And did I perform the task to your satisfaction…sir?’

Softly, he laughed. ‘Well, there’ll need to be a repeat session, of course. I can’t possibly judge after just one performance.’

Performance? The word cut through her heightened senses and Isobel bit her lip, suddenly feeling way out of her depth. ‘And was I…?’

‘You were amazing,’ he reassured her softly. ‘In fact you were more than amazing.’

He stared down into her face as if he was seeing it for the first time—though this was the face that greeted him each day. This was Izzy—who told him the truth when he asked her. And sometimes when he didn’t ask her. Would sex destroy some of the unique rapport which existed between them? he wondered, as even more questions began to flood into his mind.

‘Let’s go and sit down,’ he said abruptly.

Tugging her skirt back over her naked hips, he led her over to one of the low sofas on the far side of the office. Gently, he pushed her down on it, then slid next to her, his black eyes narrowed and questioning.

‘So why?’ he queried softly.

She guessed she could have pretended to misunderstand him, but she knew exactly what he meant. And that was the trouble—she knew Tariq far too well to play games with him. ‘Why am I a virgin, you mean?’

‘Wrong tense,’ he corrected acidly.

Slightly flustered, she looked at him, seeking refuge in flippancy. ‘Because you make me work such long hours that I hardly ever have the opportunity to meet any other men?’

‘Izzy. I’m serious. Why?’

She sighed. ‘Because…Oh, Tariq. Why do you think?’

Because no man had ever come close to the way he’d made her feel. Because it had been impossible not to let him make love to her once they’d started down that path. He’d warned her that there was going to be no long-term or commitment, and she wasn’t holding out for any. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t be honest, did it? Just as long as she kept it cool.

‘Because nobody has ever turned me on as much as you do.’

He found himself slightly shocked to hear her talking to him in that way—but that was what he wanted, wasn’t it? The fact that she could see their lovemaking for what it was and not construct some romantic fantasy about it the way that women always did?

‘It was like that for me too,’ he admitted softly. ‘In fact…’ Hot and erotic memories flooded back. Of skin on skin as she welcomed him into her hot, slick body. He swallowed, acknowledging the potency of what had happened between them. And because of her innocence he felt he owed her the truth. ‘It was the best sex of my life.’

Isobel drew away from him, hating the sudden leap of her heart, angry with herself for wanting to buy into what was clearly a lie. And angry with him for feeling that she needed to be placated with a lie as whopping as that one. ‘Oh, come on, Tariq—with all the lovers you’ve had, you’re honestly expecting me to believe that?’

‘But it is true.’ He stared into her now smoky tawny eyes, wondering how much of the truth she could bear. ‘You see, never before have I made love to a woman without protection. It is a risk that I can never take—for all the obvious reasons. But a virgin who has never known another man cannot be tainted.’ He took her fingers and drifted them over his groin, enjoying seeing her eyes widen as he hardened instantly beneath them. ‘And a virgin who is on the pill cannot give me an unwanted child.’

Isobel snatched her hand away. ‘So you really hit the jackpot with me?’

He gave a low laugh as he recaptured her hand and brought it up to his lips. ‘You wanted to know why I found sex with you more exciting than with anyone else and I’ve told you. Don’t ask the questions, Izzy, if you can’t bear to hear the answers.’

‘You’re impossible,’ she whispered.

‘And you’re…’ His eyes narrowed as he kissed each fingertip in turn. ‘Well, right now you are looking positively decadent.’

Her indignation melted away as he slid her fingers inside the moist cavern of his mouth. It was as if even his most innocuous touch could weaken all her defences. ‘Am I?’

‘Extremely.’ He drifted the now damp fingers to the faint indigo shadows beneath her sleepy tawny eyes. ‘But you also look worn out, kalila.’

She loved him touching her like that. She loved him touching her pretty much anywhere. ‘Mmm?’

‘Mmm. So why don’t you just relax?’ He brushed back the heavy spill of curls which had fallen down around her face. ‘Go on, Izzy. Relax.’

With a little sigh, she let her head drift back against the sofa as he continued to stroke her hair, just as if she were some cat that he was petting.

Distantly, as her weighted eyelids whispered to a close, she could hear the sound of water splashing. For one crazy moment she could have sworn that she heard someone whistling. But then the emotion of what had just happened and the stupefying endorphins it had produced made Isobel drift off into a glorious half-world of sleep.

She was woken by the distinct smell of sandalwood and the lightest brush of lips over hers, and when she blinked her eyes open it was to see Tariq standing over her. His black hair was glittering with tiny droplets of water and he was wearing a stark and beautifully cut tuxedo. He must have showered and changed in his office’s luxury bathroom, she thought dazedly.

The crisp whiteness of his silk shirt contrasted against the glow of his olive skin, and his black eyes positively gleamed with energy and satisfaction. He looked like a perfect specimen of masculinity, she thought—all pumped up and raring to go. As if, for him, sex had been nothing but a very gratifying form of exercise.

She stared up at him. ‘What’s…what’s happening?’

Tariq swallowed down a surge of lust. She looked so damned sexy lying there that part of him wanted to carry on where they’d left off. To do it to her again—only more slowly this time, and on the comfort of a couch. But wouldn’t some kind of natural break be better—for both of them? Wouldn’t that allow them to put some necessary perspective on what had just happened—and allow her not to start reading too much into what could be a potentially awkward situation?

‘You know I have to go to the party at the Maraban Embassy,’ he said softly. ‘You were nagging me about it before we…’

Isobel kept the stupefied smile glued to her lips. He was still planning on going to the party!

‘Yes. Yes, of course. You must go.’ She struggled to sit up a little, but Tariq made matters even worse by leaning over her and stroking a strand of hair away from her lips with the tip of his thumb. For a moment his thumb lingered, tracing its way around the sudden tremble of her lips.

‘I’ll get my car to drop you off home,’ he said.

‘No, honestly. I can get the—’

‘Bus?’

‘Well, yes.’

‘Without your panties?’ His rueful gaze drifted across the room to where her ripped knickers were lying in a crumpled little heap of silk. ‘I don’t think so, anisah. So go and quickly run a brush through your hair, and then we’ll go.’

It was rather a grim end to an eventful afternoon, and one which made Isobel question the wisdom of what she had just done. Quickly she availed herself of his bathroom, dragging the Titian curls into some sort of order and straightening her clothes before they went down in the elevator to his waiting car.

There was no back seat kiss, no telling her that she was the most gorgeous woman he’d ever met and that he would spend the evening thinking about her. Instead all proprieties were observed as Tariq spent the short journey to the Maraban Embassy tapping on the flat, shiny screen of his laptop.

When the car pulled up and he looked up he seemed almost to have forgotten who he was with.

‘Izzy,’ he said softly.

She looked at him, aware that he looked impeccably groomed in comparison to the rumpled exterior she must be presenting. Was he regretting what had happened? Wondering how he could have allowed himself to get so carried away in the heat of the moment? Well, she didn’t know how these things usually worked, but she was determined that he should have a let-out clause if he wanted one.

Batting him a quick smile, she pointed to the car door, which was already being opened for him. Let him see that she was perfectly cool about what had happened.

‘Better hurry along, Tariq,’ she said quickly. ‘Leave it much later and you’ll have missed all the canapés.’