Читать книгу The Royals Collection - Ким Лоренс, Rebecca Winters - Страница 21
ОглавлениеWHEN SHE SLID open the wardrobes that lined one wall of the dressing room and found they weren’t empty, Hannah thought she was seeing an example of Kamel’s famed forward thinking.
The beginnings of a frown began to form on her brow as she lifted the top item on the stack of underclothes. Size-wise—not to mention style-wise—it was really not her! A few moments later as she flicked through the row of expensive garments the frown was fully formed and it had become obvious that even Kamel did not think of everything! She felt her self-righteous anger reach new heights as she picked up the faint but distinctive scent that clung to the garments. He thought it was fine to have his wife share wardrobe space with his mistress...maybe the economy appealed to him!
She felt physically sick, but, in the grip of a masochistic urge she could not fight, Hannah stretched out a shaking hand to the neatly folded stacks of underclothes on the shelf. They were not items that could be classed utilitarian or, by any stretch of the imagination, tasteful.
Hannah pushed the lot onto the floor and, with a vengeful cry, grabbed the most tacky, glittering thing she could see. It turned out to be a gold beaded dress with a designer label, and a split so low on the back the wearer couldn’t possibly have worn any underclothes.
Had she been this angry when she discovered Rob’s multiple infidelities? Hannah was incapable by this point of questioning the degree of her reaction. She was incandescent with rage. Not only did she not want a second-hand G-string, she didn’t want a second-hand man!
How stupid had she been to even begin to let down her guard with him, to trust him? Experience had taught her you couldn’t trust a man.
Eyes flashing, back stiff, she stalked down the glass-roofed corridor that connected the more modern bedroom wing to the main house and into the open-plan living room where she had left Kamel. The room was empty but the echoing sound of her heels on the terracotta tiles drew a call from outside.
‘Come have a swim!’
Responding to the invitation with narrow-eyed determination, she exited the patio doors just as Kamel levered himself from the infinity pool.
Rising in one seamless motion, he stood with the towel he had retrieved from the pool’s edge in one hand, but he made no attempt to dry himself. The water continued to stream down his lean brown body, making his skin glisten like polished copper in the sun.
She caught her breath. Not even a full-blown rage could protect her from her visceral reaction to the sight of six feet four inches of dripping-wet Kamel. She was helpless to control her quivering response to the image of earthy power in his broad shoulders, deeply muscled chest, and strong thighs. She swallowed, knowing she was staring but helpless to stop herself. The moisture clinging to his skin emphasised each individual slab of muscle in his flat washboard torso, and he didn’t carry an ounce of surplus flesh to blur the perfect muscle definition.
Kamel was all hard, primal male; he represented a physical male ideal combined with an earthy sexuality that had made him a deadly combination—the perfect lover. As she stared at him Hannah could feel her anger slipping away, feel the heat build inside her. She sucked in a short shocked breath, her eyes widening in disgust with herself as she recognised what was happening.
He looped the towel around his neck and she turned her head slightly to avoid the rippling contraction that moved across his flat torso as he lifted his arm to drag a hand across his wet hair.
She would not turn into one of those women who put up with all sorts of crap from a man just because he was...well...good in bed. And Kamel was, in her defence. There were probably not enough superlatives to describe just how good he was! She smothered the internal sigh and thought that he’d certainly had enough practice at it. It was not by accident they had dubbed him The Heartbreaker Prince!
One corner of his sensual mouth lifted in a lazy half-smile, but there was nothing lazy about the gleam in his eyes. She pressed a hand to her stomach—not that it helped to calm the fluttering.
‘I think you’re a little overdressed, angel,’ he rasped throatily.
The same could not be said of him. The black shorts he wore low on his hips left little to the imagination—and hers was rioting as she raised the level of her stare.
‘There are some swimsuits in the pool house.’
She closed her mouth with a firm and audible snap. Clutching the dress in one hand and her anger in the other, she slung him a contemptuous look that would have frozen a normal man stone dead in his tracks. The man she had married gave a here-we-go-again look and dragged some of the excess moisture from his hair with one hand, sending a shower of silver water droplets over her heated skin.
‘I just bet there are, but I’m not too keen on wearing other women’s cast-offs—or, for that matter, sleeping with them!’
He responded to her hostility with a long, slow, considering look. ‘Right.’
He didn’t add I see because he didn’t. When she had left him a few minutes earlier the sexual promise in her blue eyes... Well, if she hadn’t left when she had, he had been within an undiplomatic hair’s breadth of doing the unthinkable—slamming the phone down on his uncle with the explanation, I need to make love to my wife.
Acknowledging the strength of that need had been what had driven him to the pool. He hadn’t spared his body—the relentless pace through the water should have left him incapable of breath, let alone lust, but the ache was still there, and now she was looking at him as though he had just been found guilty of waging a hate campaign against kittens!
He ground his teeth at the sheer, unremitting frustration of it all. He tilted his head, a dark scowl forming on his wide forehead as he fished for a word that summed up his life before Hannah had come into it. Centred.
At another time he might have appreciated the black irony of the situation, but at that moment, with frustrated desire clenched like a knot, the humour passed him by. He had married her, resenting both the sense of duty that made him step up and the woman herself. And now, days later, he wanted her so badly he could barely string a coherent thought together. He was utterly consumed by it.
Not his type...well, that self-delusion had lasted about five seconds! Hannah was every man’s type and once you saw the woman behind the cool mask... He shook his head, his fine-tuned steel trap of a mind finding it impossible to rationalise the fascination she exerted for him, the all-consuming need he felt to possess her and to lose himself in her.
It was just sex, he told himself, recognising an uncharacteristic tendency to over-analyse in his train of thought. Why try and read anything else into it? He’d married a woman he couldn’t keep his hands off. But there was always a flip side, no heaven without hell. Not only did she have the ability to stretch the boundaries of sexual pleasure, she also had the ability to drive him crazy with her mood swings.
He forced his eyes from her face to the garment in her hand. Her mood seemed out of proportion with a wardrobe malfunction. He struggled to school his features into something that conveyed an interest he did not feel—he was more interested in peeling off her clothes than discussing fashion.
‘You want to show me a new dress?’
Her brows hit her hairline. He actually thought she wanted to parade around and ask his approval!
‘I suppose you’ve never seen this before?’ Her voice shook almost as much as her hand did as she held out the backless, frontless, totally tasteless garment.
Recognition clicked in his brain. ‘I have.’ He had little interest in women’s clothes but this one had been hard to forget—as was the evening that had gone with it.
He hadn’t been the intended victim or beneficiary of the provocative number. Neither, it turned out, had Charlotte begged him to escort her to the glittering premiere for the pleasure of his company. He and the dress had been part of her revenge on her ex-husband. Bizarrely, although Charlotte had been glad to be out of her marriage, she had resented the fact her ex had moved on too—especially as the woman he had moved on to was a younger version of herself.
‘You’re angry.’ His eyes slid down her body, over the slim curves and long, long legs. She was, he decided, totally magnificent. ‘I know because your eyes turn from summer sky to stormy sea when you’re mad.’
‘It can work once, even twice, but I have to tell you, Kamel, that the staring-deep-into-my-eyes thing has a shelf life,’ she lied. ‘So don’t try and change the subject.’
‘What was the subject?’ he asked, continuing to stare deep into her eyes, causing major and probably permanent damage to her frazzled nervous system.
‘Your girlfriend’s choice of clothes. Oh, incidentally, I’m totally fine with sharing my wardrobe space with your harem, though I have to tell you that they are not my size!’
‘I know,’ he said, his fingertips twitching as he transferred his stare to Hannah’s heaving breasts. They fitted almost perfectly into his palms, soft, firm and... He took a deep swallow and lifted his gaze. ‘Charlotte has had help in that area. They were, I believe, an engagement present from her ex.’
Her chin went up as she enquired in a deceptively soft voice, ‘Are you suggesting I need help in that area?’
The icy question drew a low smoky laugh from him. ‘You are perfect in that area.’ The humour faded from his face, leaving a restless hunger. She was perfect. His perfect lover.
The hunger in his stare as much as his flattering words brought hot colour flying to her cheeks. But this heat was mild compared to the surge of sexual warmth that settled deep in her pelvis and spread. Her mask of disdain was rice-paper thin as she gave a sniff and tossed her head.
‘I have no interest,’ she informed him icily. ‘Not in what your idea of perfect is, or the surgical procedures your girlfriend has had, or who paid for them.’ Her haughty delivery vanished as the strength of her feelings became impossible to disguise. ‘I just have an interest in being treated with a modicum, a bare modicum of respect while we are sharing a—’ on the brink of saying bed, she stopped herself; the chain of thought already set in motion was less easy to stall ‘—roof!’ she improvised, seeing his muscled body sleek with sweat, his face taut in a mask of need.
‘I’m sorry you were upset. I gave instructions for the room to be cleared.’
‘Cleared!’ she parroted, her face twisted in an ironic grimace of disgust. ‘I would have thought fumigated would have been more appropriate when we’re talking about the sort of woman who would wear this!’ She directed a look of lip-curling distaste at the garment, which was a perfect example of the adage money couldn’t buy class.
‘Don’t you think you’re overreacting to what is, after all, a simple housekeeping error? I’ll speak to someone and it won’t happen again.’
‘You mean the next time your girlfriend leaves her clothes you’ll have them tidied away before I arrive? My God,’ she flung with sarcastic appreciation. ‘I’m one hell of a lucky woman to have married such a considerate man.’
‘I will not be seeing Charlotte again.’ Though the lady had made it quite clear that she did not see marriage as an obstacle to continuing their relationship.
‘I do not want to know her name.’ Or hear how good she is in bed, Hannah thought, experiencing a wave of jealousy that felt like a knife between her ribs. She paled and lifted her hands to her ears, squeezing her eyes shut.
Unfortunately neither action blotted out the knowledge that there would be women in slutty outfits sharing his bed in the future. They just wouldn’t be called Charlotte.
She drew in a deep shuddering breath, her temper reaching boiling point in the time it took her to drag air into her lungs. ‘So you think I’m overreacting?’ she quivered incredulously. ‘I’m curious—are you trying to be an insensitive, hateful slob?’
I’m curious—are you trying to look like a tart?
Kamel laughed as he recalled his response to Charlotte in the dress his bride held in a death grip. But then he saw Hannah’s face. ‘I’m not laughing at you.’
‘Oh, you’re laughing with me. I feel so much better.’
His jaw clenched as he fought to contain his increasing irritation. Sexual frustration had already eaten deep chunks out of his self-control without his dealing with her emotional antics. He took a deep breath and decided he would rise above it and be reasonable, even if she wasn’t!
‘I wasn’t thinking about you. I was thinking about Charlotte.’
If Kamel ever found himself faced with an angry and unreasonable woman he generally removed himself from that scene. By choice he avoided women likely to indulge in scenes, but you couldn’t always tell and it paid to have a plan B.
He should have walked. She was asking him to explain his actions, and no woman had ever done that.
Looking into her eyes was like staring straight into a storm. Though storms were preferable to thinking too much about the flash of desperate hurt he had seen in those shimmering depths. Crazily, of all the emotions he was struggling to contain the one that rose to the surface—the compelling urge to wipe that hurt away. It made no sense. It had been her decision to enact a Greek tragedy when given the same circumstances most women would have chosen to tactfully ignore it.
‘Look. I’m sorry that the room was not cleared. I’ll have t—’
‘You’re crazy if you think I am going to sleep in that bedroom with you!’
His jaw tightened. ‘You know something? I’m starting to feel quite nostalgic for Hannah the ice queen.’ He jammed his thumbs into the waistband of his shorts and glared at her. ‘Just what is your problem, anyway? I had a sex life before we were married.’ He lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. ‘Having sex does not make me some sort of weird pervert. Most people would think that it makes me a lot more normal than a woman who is so uptight and controlling that she saves herself for marriage.’
‘So now I’m not normal? Well, let me ease your mind on one thing. I sure as hell wasn’t waiting for you!’
‘And yet, you can’t get enough of me in bed.’
‘It’s the novelty value.’
He clenched his teeth and glared at the gold gown in her hands. ‘Give me that damned thing.’
She looked into his dark eyes and felt the answering passions surface. Heart thudding like a trip hammer, she ignored the hand extended to her and shook her head.
‘You’re being very childish. I have had other women. This can hardly be a surprise to you.’
Of course it wasn’t—so why the hell was she acting like this?
‘I don’t give a damn about your girlfriends!’ she contended, snapping her fingers to show how little she cared. ‘You can have a damned harem for all I care!’
‘I’m glad you explained that. So this—’ his hand sketched a toe-to-head line in the air ‘—is someone who doesn’t care a jot? If you hadn’t explained I might,’ he drawled, ‘have thought it was jealousy.’
Her reaction to the suggestion was dramatic. The colour that had flooded her face receded, leaving her eyes a deep well of colour.
‘This isn’t jealousy,’ she denied, trying desperately to think of an alternative and failing. ‘This is wanting to be treated with respect.’
‘Am I asking you to hide in the damned shadows?’ The woman, he decided, took irrationality to new uncharted levels. ‘This has gone on long enough. Hand it over.’
He caught the hem of the dress and Hannah responded with teeth-gritting determination, pulling it into her chest with such force she heard the sound of fabric tearing. She was clinging on so hard that when he pulled the dress she came with it.
To absorb the impact of her soft body into his, Kamel took an automatic step back and felt his foot hit the edge of the pool just as Hannah lifted her gaze.
She saw the intent gleaming in his dark eyes and shook her head. ‘You wouldn’t!’
His smile was answer enough.
She hit the water yelling a warning and spluttered as the water filled her nose and throat. His arm was wrapped around her waist as they both surfaced. When the water cleared from her eyes she saw he was laughing. She opened her mouth and Kamel pressed a hard kiss to it before he let go, kicking away from her.
She lifted a hand to her mouth. Thinking only of the kiss and not the fact there were several feet of water beneath her feet, she stopped treading water to stay afloat.
He waited for her to surface, breathless and angry and still, amazingly, clutching the damned dress.
‘I’m drowning.’
‘No, you’re not.’ Flipping onto his back, he kicked lazily away from her, still maintaining eye contact.
He was utterly heartless. She hit at the water surface angrily, sending a spray of silver droplets his way. None reached him, and she struck out towards him. Hannah was a reasonable swimmer but her efforts were severely hampered by her sodden clothes, and after a couple of feet she was puffing and panting.
‘Stand up.’
Easy for him to say—he was ten feet tall! Cautiously she put a foot down. Her toe found the bottom, and, bouncing along for another few feet, she finally risked attempting to follow his advice.
The water reached her shoulder but it only reached Kamel’s waist. He looked like a glistening statue—if cool stone had been capable of oozing the sort of restless vitality he projected. Kamel was not stone or cold. ‘You did that deliberately!’ she charged, focusing on her fury and not on his body—at least that was the aim.
When the sexiest man on the planet was standing there dripping wet and gorgeous it was hard to ignore.
He shrugged, fixing her with a gleaming amused gaze. ‘What can I say? The temptation...’ His voice trailed away as his glance dropped. The immersion had left her shirt plastered to her body; the lacy outline of her bra was clearly visible, as were the thrusting projections of her nipples. Heat pooled in his groin and the laughter faded from his heavy-lidded eyes as in his mind he saw himself drawing the ruched rosy peak into his mouth and heard her hoarse cry. He took a step towards her.
‘Get away from me!’ Refusing to recognise the heart-pounding excitement that made her feel light-headed, she banged the water with the heel of her hand in warning.
His response was a predatory smile. Holding out a hand to ward him off, she took a staggering step backwards and immediately sank beneath the surface. Floating on her back, kicking to stay afloat safely out of reach, she glared at him with eyes several shades deeper than the glittering water.
‘That was so childish!’ she accused, finding her feet again and stepping into marginally shallower water. ‘I could have drowned—you’d have liked that.’
He arched a satiric brow. ‘Me, childish?’
Hannah blinked back at him, an expression of shock filtering into her eyes as their glances connected and locked. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened as she thought, He’s right. Who was the person who had charged in all guns blazing? She turned her glance downwards over her drenched clothes, and felt the clutch of cold, horrified embarrassment in her stomach. This wasn’t her. She lifted her eyes, saw the way he was looking at her, and the cold in her belly turned hot and liquid.
‘You’re right. It is me!’ she yelled. The discovery was liberating.
Kamel didn’t have a clue what she was talking about and he didn’t ask, because she was churning the water, windmilling her hands, sending as much spray over herself as him—and he reciprocated.
Hannah threw herself into the exertion and was not even aware of the point when she began to cry. Blinded by the spray, she didn’t realise until her arms and shoulders got too tired to retaliate that Kamel had stopped splashing and he was standing right there, toe to toe with her.
The sun and the water droplets on her lashes gave a shimmering effect to his dark outline.
Everything seemed to slow, even her heartbeat. Her throat closed over, then she stopped breathing completely. She closed her eyes and felt his finger on her cheek. Leaking control from every pore, she opened her eyes. The sexual tension humming in the air had a stronger physical presence than the Mediterranean sun burning down on them.
‘Are you crying?’
She shook her head, and wondered how he could tell.
‘Come here!’ he growled.
Afterwards, Hannah had no clue whether she stepped into him or whether he pulled her into his arms. All she knew was that it felt gloriously right to be there. His dark, hot eyes made her feel light-headed but she couldn’t look away as he brushed the strands of wet hair away from her face. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Kamel watched through eyes narrowed against the sun as the sparkling defiance faded from her blue eyes. He saw the hot glaze of desire drift in, and heard the husky little catch as she drew in a shuddering sigh and reached for his hand—not to pull it away, but to hold it there.
Kamel felt a rise of unfamiliar emotion as he looked down at her, and his fingers tightened around the slim ones that were entwined within his. He felt her shiver and frowned.
‘You’re cold.’
She shook her head. Turning her face into his palm, she felt anything but cold—she was burning from the inside out. She let out a gasp as Kamel dragged her into his body; the hard imprint of his erection against the softness of her belly drew another gasp, this one fractured. Her hands slid around the nape of his neck into his dark hair.
‘Can I be of—?’
Kamel swore and cut across Rafiq’s enquiry. ‘No, we are fine. That will be all.’
The man bowed and melted away.
‘You have a beautiful mouth,’ she said, staring dreamily at the sculpted outline.
Kamel’s face was a rigid mask of driven need as he brought his beautiful mouth crashing hungrily down on her soft, parted lips. Hannah’s mind blanked as she went limp in his arms, giving herself over completely to the hungry, sensual onslaught of his deep, draining kisses. It felt as though he would drink her dry and she didn’t mind one bit. She wanted it.
They were both breathing like sprinters crossing the line when he lifted his head. ‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he confessed huskily.
‘You make it sound like a bad thing,’ she whispered.
He stroked her face, pulling her in even closer, feeling her breathing become more ragged as he let her feel how much he wanted her. ‘Does that feel bad?’ he asked.
‘Oh, God, Kamel!’ It was agony to be this close and yet not close enough, not nearly close enough. ‘I feel...you’re...’ Her moan was lost inside his mouth.
It wasn’t until they reached the edge of the pool and she saw her shirt floating on the water that Hannah realised that she was naked from the waist up.
How did that happen? She didn’t spend long wondering. Consumed by an elemental hunger that allowed no room for thought, just feeling—layer and layer of hot feeling!—she plastered her aching, swollen breasts up hard against his chest and wound her legs tight around his waist, almost lifting herself clear of the water as she probed Kamel’s mouth with her tongue, drawing a deep groan from his throat.
‘Just hold on...let me...’ He unwound her hands from around his neck, breaking the tenacious grip as he pushed her away from him.
‘No...!’ She opened her eyes and collided head-on with the heat in his.
Evading the hands that grabbed for him, Kamel spanned her waist with his hands and lifted her out of the water onto the edge of the pool. A moment later he was beside her, pulling her to her feet.
He lifted her into his arms and began to stride off—not in the direction of the villa, but the grassy area where a tree-lined stream ran through the sloping manicured lawn towards the deep forested area that bordered three sides of the property.
‘We can’t here...someone will see,’ she protested half-heartedly.
‘This is a paparazzi-free zone, I promise.’
‘I wasn’t thinking of intruders. People work here.’
She admired his confidence, and because he was kissing her like a starving man she allowed herself to be convinced by it. The simple truth was that she couldn’t have stopped even if she had wanted to. And she didn’t.
The grass he laid her on was soft against the bare skin of her back; the sun shining through the leafy canopy above left a dappled pattern on her skin. She lay breathing hard, one arm curved above her head, and anticipation made her stomach muscles quiver as he knelt beside her.
He bent forward, his body curving over hers, every muscle in his body pulled taut as he allowed the image to imprint on his retinas. It was one he knew would stay with him. The hectic flush of arousal on her cheeks, the wanton invitation that curled her soft full lips upwards—she was sinful temptation personified and it would take a stronger man than he was to resist.
Kamel had no intention of resisting; he just wanted to claim what was his, driven by primitive instincts as old as man.
He could feel her eyes on him as he slid the saturated skirt down her hips. His actions were made clumsy by the urgency that burned in his blood and the thin threads of lace on the tiny pants snapped as he tried to free her of the bondage.
Stripped of everything, her body was smooth and pale—so perfect that he couldn’t breathe. He touched her breasts, running his thumbs across the tight peaks before he cupped them in his big hands.
Hannah closed her eyes, focusing everything on the sensation as he ran his hands over the smooth curve of her stomach, feeling the light calluses on his palms.
She raised her arms, reaching out towards him.
Eyes blazing with a need that made him shake, he knelt astride her, then, holding her eyes, he parted her thighs. Her skin was cool to the touch but inside she was hot. He closed his eyes and thrust in deeply, not holding back as he felt her hotness, her wetness close around him.
He ran a hand down her smooth thigh. ‘Hold me now.’
Her long legs wrapped around him, locking around his waist to hold him as they pushed together towards a release that left them both breathless.
As Hannah gasped her way to cogent thought one surfaced, rising above the others, swirling in her pleasure-soaked brain. For that, she would do anything.
Even share him?
Everything in her said that was wrong. Self-disgust curled in the pit of her stomach.
But what was the alternative? Could there be room for compromise?
‘I understand that there will be women.’ The truth hurt, but she had to be grown up about this. ‘I suppose I should not have reacted. If you—’
‘Do not say it.’ The cool command cut across her hesitant voice. ‘I do not need your blessing to sleep with other women.’
She sucked in a taut breath. ‘I know you don’t need my permission,’ she admitted unhappily.
He lifted his head from her breast, struggling against outrage even though a short time ago he would have welcomed her adult attitude. ‘Only you could say something like that at a time like this. I am not thinking about other women every second of the day. I am thinking of you. And right now I am thinking of doing this again in bed. Would you prefer to talk or make a baby?’
‘But I thought you wanted—’
‘How could I know what I want when you insist on telling me? Come with me and I will tell you what I want.’
‘That’s a plan,’ she agreed faintly.
