The Secret Beneath The Veil. Dani Collins
to him, but he refused to believe she was anything he couldn’t handle.
Viveka only flashed him a disparaging look and spun toward the door.
He didn’t bother stopping her. He followed at a laconic pace as she scurried her way out to the stern of the mid-deck. Grasping the rail in one hand, she shaded her eyes with the other, scanning the empty horizon. She quickly threw herself to the port side. Gazing back to the island, which had been left well behind them, she made a distressed noise and glared at him again, expression white.
“Is Grigor on board?”
“Why would he be?”
“I don’t know!” Her shoulders relaxed a notch, but she continued to look anxious. “Why did you leave the island?”
“Why would I stay?”
“Why would you take me?” she cried.
“I want to know why you’ve taken your sister’s place.”
“You didn’t have to leave shore for that!”
“You wanted Grigor present? He seemed to be inflaming things.” Grigor hadn’t expected his departure, either. Mikolas’s phone had already buzzed several times with calls from his would-be business partner.
That had been another reason for Mikolas’s departure. If he’d stayed, he might have assaulted Grigor. The white-hot urge had been surprisingly potent and yes, that too had been provoked by this exasperating woman.
It wasn’t a desire to protect her, Mikolas kept telling himself. His nature demanded he dominate, particularly over bullies and brutes. His personal code of ethics wouldn’t allow him to stand by and watch any man batter a woman.
But Grigor’s attack on this one had triggered something dark and primal in him, something he didn’t care to examine too closely. Since cold-blooded murder was hardly a walk down the straight and narrow that was his grandfather’s expectation of him, he’d taken himself out of temptation’s reach.
“I had a boat hired! All my things are on it.” Viveka pointed at the island. “Take me back!”
Such a bold little thing. Time to let her know who was boss.
“Grigor promised this merger if I married his daughter.” He gave her a quick once-over. “His stepdaughter will do.”
She threw back her head. “Ba-ha-ha,” she near shouted and shrugged out of his robe, dropping it to the deck. “No. ’Bye.” Something flashed in her hand as she started to climb over the rail.
She was fine-boned and supple and so easy to take in hand. Perhaps he took more enjoyment than he should in having another reason to touch her. Her skin was smooth and warm, her wrists delicate in his light grip as he calmly forced them behind her back, trapping her between the rail and his body.
She strained to look over her shoulder, muttering, “Oh, you—!” as something fell into the water with a glint of reflected light. “That was my credit card. Thanks a lot.”
“Viveka.” He was stimulated by the feel of her naked abdomen against his groin, erection not having subsided much and returning with vigor. Her spiked heels were gone, which was a pity. They’d been sexy as hell, but when it came to rubbing up against a woman, the less clothes the better.
She smelled of his shampoo, he noted, but there was an intriguing underlying scent that was purely hers: green tea and English rain. And that heady scent went directly into his brain, numbing him to everything but thoughts of being inside her.
Women were more subtle than men with their responses, but he read hers as clearly as a billboard. Not just the obvious signs like the way her nipples spiked against the pattern of her see-through bra cups, erotically abrading his chest and provoking thoughts of licking and sucking at them until she squirmed and moaned. A blush stained her cheeks and she licked her lips. There was a bonelessness to her. He could practically feel the way her blood moved through her veins like warm honey. He knew instinctively that opening his mouth against her neck would make her shiver and surrender to him. Her arousal would feed into his and they’d take each other to a new dimension.
Where did that ridiculous notion come from? He was no sappy poet. He tried to shake the idea out of his head, but couldn’t rid himself of the certainty that sex with her would be the best he’d ever known. They were practically catching fire from this light friction. His heart was ramping with strength in his chest, his body magnetized to hers.
He was incensed with her, he reminded himself, but he was also intrigued by this unique attunement they had. Logic told him it was dangerous, but the primitive male inside him didn’t give a damn. He wanted her.
“This is kidnapping. And assault,” she said, giving a little struggle against his grip. “I thought you didn’t hurt women.”
“I don’t let them hurt themselves, either. You’ll kill yourself jumping into the water out here.”
Something flickered in her expression. Her skin was very white compared with her sister’s. How had he not noticed that from the very first, veil notwithstanding?
“Stop behaving like a spoiled child,” he chided.
She swung an affronted look to him like it was the worst possible insult he could level at her. “How about you stop acting like you own the world?”
“This is my world. You walked into it. Don’t complain how I run it.”
“I’m trying to leave it.”
“And I’ll let you.” Something twisted in his gut, as if that was a lie. A big one. “After you fix the damage you’ve done.”
“How do you suggest I do that?”
“Marry me in your sister’s place.”
She made a choking noise and gave another wriggle of protest, heel hooking on the lower rung of the rail as if she thought she could lift herself backward over the rail.
All she managed to do was pin herself higher against him. She stilled. Hectic color deepened in her cheekbones.
He smiled, liking what she’d done. Her movement had opened her legs and brought her cleft up to nestle against his shaft. She’d caught the same zing of sexual excitement that her movement had sent through him. He nudged lightly, more of a tease than a threat, and watched a delicate shiver go through her.
It was utterly enthralling. He could only stare at her parted, quivering mouth. He wanted to cover and claim it. He wanted to drag his tongue over every inch of her. Wanted to push at his elastic waistband, press aside that virginal white lace and thrust into the heat that was branding him through the thin layers between them.
He had expected to spend this week frustrated. Now he began to forgive her for this switch of hers. They would do very nicely together. Very. Nicely.
“Let’s take this back to my stateroom.” His voice emanated from somewhere deep in his chest, thick with the desire that gripped him.
Her eyes flashed with fear before she said tautly, “To consummate a marriage that won’t happen? Did you see how Grigor reacted to me? He’ll never let me sub in for Trina. If anything would make him refuse your merger, marrying me would do it.”
* * *
Mikolas slowly relaxed his grip and stepped back, trailing light fingers over the seams at her hips.
Goose bumps rose all over her, but she ignored it, hoping her knickers weren’t showing the dampness that had released at the feel of him pressed against her.
What was wrong with her? She didn’t even do sex. Kissing and petting were about it.
She dipped to pick up the robe and knotted it with annoyance. How could she be this hot when the wind had cooled to unpleasant and the sky was thickening with clouds?
She sent an anxious look at the ever-shrinking island amid the growing