Читать книгу 12 Gifts for Christmas - Джулия Кеннер, Джулия Кеннер - Страница 9

LUCY stared at him, looking stricken. As if he’d wounded her, deeply and unfairly. Rafi bit back a curse. How did she do that? How could she act as if the truth were a weapon wielded against her?

She is good at what she does, his aide, Safir, had said to him months ago when Rafi had uncharacteristically let some of his anguish at her betrayal slip out. She has made it her life’s work, he’d said.

She really was good at it, Rafi thought. She had lied her way into what was, for her, a spectacular marriage. He was the one who had to suffer the consequences.

“So that’s why you disappeared,” she said after a long moment. “You think I lied about the baby and the miscarriage.” Her brown eyes were wide with distress, and one delicate hand hovered near her throat. This close, he could smell her unique, intoxicating scent. The faintest hint of jasmine, the suggestion of her warmth. He longed to haul her into his arms, to lose himself in her as he had before. “That’s why this is the first time I’ve seen you in more than three months.”

“Despite all evidence to the contrary,” he said quietly, deliberately, holding her gaze with his, “I did not want to suspect you of this. I wanted to believe you were exactly who you claimed to be. A woman as swept away by what happened between us as I was.”

It hurt him to admit that, but it was true. It was just as every one had warned him, though he had been so determined not to believe it in the beginning. But what he had never admitted was that there was some part of him that had been relieved—because if she were that scheming, that grasping, it absolved him of responsibility, didn’t it? Every man had a weakness, even him. And he would spend the rest of his life coming to terms with what his own weakness had wrought.

“You wanted to believe it,” she said softly, her eyes moving over his face as if she searched for something. Her lips trembled slightly as if she fought off some great emotion. “But you did not.”

“My investigator found out quickly enough that you weren’t supposed to be working at the club that night,” Rafi said. “The only question is, how did you know I would be there? Did you target me specifically, or were you simply casting a wide net? I must commend you, Lucy. I was completely taken in.”

He let out a hollow laugh, but he could not seem to help the way he drifted closer to her, as if compelled. She did not move away.

“Your investigator,” she said. She swallowed. “You mean your aide. Safir.”

“He is a loyal employee,” Rafi said darkly. “Far better than I deserve. He dared to tell me the truth about you when I refused to see the evidence before me.”

“Let me guess,” she said in a tone he could not quite read—one both bitter and very nearly amused, at odds with the turmoil in her coffee-colored eyes. “A cocktail waitress must be in want of a wealthy husband, and any one will do.”

Ignoring her words, he reached out and traced the line of her collarbone, a hard satisfaction moving through him when she shivered in response. She pulled her wrap tighter around her as if she were cold, but he knew better. Whatever her plans, whatever her schemes, she could not have been prepared for this fire that raged between them—this wild, maddening rush.

He had stayed away because he could not keep his hands off of her when he was near her. She was temptation incarnate. Tonight, with her blond curls piled on her head, she looked beautiful, and all he could think about was tasting the elegant line of her neck. He wanted to peel the layers of her clothing from her magnificent body and bury himself within her, again and again and again. When he touched her, he didn’t care that he was Rafi Qaderi and she was nobody. He didn’t care that she had altered the course of his life.

He only wanted her. Here, now.

And this close to her, he could not think of a single reason why that was a bad idea.

“You have bewitched me,” he muttered harshly in his own language, well aware she would not understand the words. And then, yielding to the very same urge that had brought them here in the first place, he took her mouth with his.

Rafi’s kiss was hot, slick.

Perfect.

She should push him away. She should denounce him and the horrible things he thought about her. She should tell him the truth.

But Lucy could not bring herself to do any of those things. She was awash in sensation. The way he pulled her into his arms, pressing her against the enticing wall of his chest. The way he angled his head for a better fit, tasting her, teasing her, making her whole body hum with approval and need.

She loved him.

It was that simple. That disastrous. She loved him and he hated her, just as she would no doubt hate herself when this was over—when she was left to reflect on the fact that she was so weak, so easy, that she could listen to him say such ugly things about her and then let him kiss her as if he had every right.

But it had been so long. And oh, how she ached for him. For this. All the long, lonely days and nights seemed to disappear like smoke. All the agony, the pain and the terrible truth of what had happened to her seemed less bright, less vicious, when he kissed her like this.

As if he felt the same wild fire, the same mad connection.

As if he were as helpless to control it as she was.

As if he’d missed her, missed this, too.

It was that last thought that finally penetrated the fog and forced Lucy to take a step back. One hand flew to her mouth and she could only stare at him while her body objected to the space she’d put between them. Her breasts felt too heavy, too full. Her heart shuddered against her ribs. And low in her belly, she ached. Burned.

But he hadn’t missed her, had he. He had believed whatever poisonous things Safir had told him. He would have been content to stay away on his endless business trips forever—would have done so, in fact, had she not claimed she needed him here, that it was an emergency. He’d had no intention of ending these months of punishment. He’d had no intention of coming back at all.

“Do you think you can just kiss me and it will be as if none of this ever happened?” she asked. She wanted to sound tough, strong, but her voice was barely a whisper.

“There is no pretending it didn’t happen,” he said darkly. His gaze was trained on her mouth and she could not help the surge of heat within her. “But why not celebrate the one thing we ever did well? Surely we should take our compensations where we can. We have so little else.”

“We have nothing,” she said, surprised at her own voice. How clear it was. How little it shook. “You will leave tomorrow morning and who knows when you’ll be back. In six months? A year?” She tossed her head. “You can’t abandon me with so little regard for me and then expect me to fall into your bed at a moment’s notice!”

“Expect? No.” His fingers brushed her cheek, traced the shape of her mouth. “But why deny this passion when we are both in the same room?”

“Because it is the biggest lie of all!” Lucy cried. She jerked her head from his clever fingers and moved away from him, toward the door. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. This time, I’m the one leaving, and I won’t be back at all. You can count on it.”

“Lucy …” He said her name but she didn’t know if it was to plead with her or to curse her.

Not that it made a difference, she told herself fiercely. She needed only to survive the night. In the morning Rafi would be gone, she would be on a one-way flight back to reality and she would finally be able to breathe again.

She just had to make it through the night.