Mills & Boon Modern Romance Collection: February 2015. Кэрол Мортимер
had felt betrayed. He’d been the only one to know her secret—that beneath those unflattering clothes lurked a delicious body ripe for the plucking. Now the secret was out.
‘Because,’ he ground out, ‘I didn’t want every other man there wanting you too.’
Her face swung back, eyes locking with his, and the shock of urgent hunger slammed into him again.
She just had to look at him...
‘I don’t know what game you think you’re playing but it’s not funny.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘I’ve had enough.’
Asim told himself to release her, to talk to her again in the sterile safety of his office, not in the dim seclusion of the old palace where they were totally, tantalisingly alone.
The trouble was he hadn’t had enough. He hadn’t even started. He felt his control snap and didn’t give a damn.
‘Did you even look in the mirror before dinner?’ Anger roughened his voice. Anger at her for tempting him beyond endurance. Anger at himself.
‘Stop it.’ Her voice wobbled and this time the jab to his chest was a knife carving right through his ribs.
He let go one of her wrists and lifted his hand to her cheek. It was pale as cream and soft against his knuckles. His hand drifted to the neat whorl of her ear, to the ornate, dangling earring that emphasised the bareness of her throat.
‘With your hair up your throat looks so slender, so fragile. And these...’ he flicked the silvery earring so it tinkled ‘...draw attention to the sexy curve just here.’
He bent and pressed his lips to the tender spot where shoulder and neck met. She started and her pulse jumped beneath his lips. The scent of her was rich in his nostrils and he licked the spot, drawing in her taste. Apricots, that was it. Sweet with a hint of tartness. And skin like pale cream.
Slowly he drew back, the air heavy in his lungs as he dragged in a breath.
‘Please, Asim—’
He stopped her words with a finger to her lips and felt their lush promise. His belly tightened.
‘And this.’ His hand skimmed the folds of fabric that fell in a curve from her shoulders. ‘It’s there to draw attention to your breasts.’
‘But I’m completely covered.’ Her voice had that husky weight that never failed to please him. ‘I couldn’t be more covered up.’
Asim nodded. ‘Exactly. Whoever designed this knew what they were doing. All that lusciousness covered but on display.’
His gaze dropped to her breasts, high and proud and temptingly close. ‘Are you even wearing anything under there?’
She tugged in his hold as if to break free and he slammed her arm up against the wall, the weight of his own holding her in place. To be sure, he planted his free hand on the other side of her head, caging her.
‘I couldn’t wear a bra,’ she murmured defensively, and his body hardened. ‘There’s a slit in the back of the bodice.’
‘Ah, the slit.’ He surveyed her face, watching colour rise. ‘It’s masterful. That tiny sliver of pale skin when you move or turn. You have no idea how tantalising it is, do you?’ Even now he read uncertainty in her eyes. She looked dazed but she held her mouth tight as if fearing to believe him.
‘Sometimes a glimpse of the forbidden is more arousing than a blatant display of flesh.’
Her eyes rounded.
‘Even these...’ deliberately he stroked his index finger down one tight sleeve from shoulder to wrist ‘...simply make a man want to see what they conceal.’ He breathed deep, relishing her sweet scent.
Asim dropped his hand to the shimmering folds of her skirt. ‘This too.’ He couldn’t resist laying his palm flat as he dragged his hand up her thigh. Silken material over warm flesh, the combination was pure seduction.
He felt her tremble. Somehow the movement transferred to his hand and it grew unsteady as he moulded her hip and tugged her close. His fingers spread, shaping her taut buttock.
‘Tell me you’re wearing something under this,’ he growled, then shook his head. ‘No. Don’t. I don’t want to know.’
He was rigid with arousal. He pulled her close so her heat cushioned his erection and his eyes sank shut, her gasp loud in his ears.
‘Believe me now?’ Asim’s lips twisted in self-mockery but it was beyond him to pull back. For weeks he’d imagined slipping off her concealing clothes and losing himself in her firm, lithe body. Especially when in her enthusiasm she forgot protocol and argued with him, her face vibrant, her whole body animated. That was when he was in danger of forgetting himself. Too often he’d wanted to capture that quicksilver energy and naiad’s body for himself.
‘You’re hard. For me?’
Her free hand fluttered at his hip. She wanted to touch him? The thought sent control spiralling.
Opening his eyes, he fell into amber fire. ‘There’s no one else here, Jacqueline.’ She didn’t object to him using her name this time.
‘Every time you move in that dress the light shimmers on each curve and hollow. Did you know that?’ He slid his palm over the tight curve of her bottom then back up to the gentle swell of her hip. ‘Every delectable feminine inch is on show.’
He reached the belt of silver links and insinuated his fingers beneath it. ‘And, as for this, it makes your waist look tinier than ever.’ Plus it subtly gave a man ideas that would probably shock the woman before him. About chaining her to his bed.
Desire dragged at his belly and he had to force himself into stillness.
‘I don’t know what to say.’ Her voice shook as she blinked up at him. ‘Really?’
How could she doubt with his erection pressing into her belly? He was on fire.
‘I forbid you to wear that dress in public. It’s too distracting.’
Her lips curved in the tiny, delighted smile. He drank in the sight. It was the first real smile he’d had from her, not a polite social expression but a gift from the heart.
‘I’m sure you could manage.’ She looked down, the fringe of her eyelashes screening her gaze.
‘Oh, I’d manage.’ He snatched in a laboured breath. ‘I’d scoop you up and take you straight back to your room.’
‘Like a naughty child?’ She pouted and heat zeroed straight to his groin.
‘Not at all like a child.’ Asim gave up the struggle with the remnants of his conscience and let his hand slide up to cup her breast. ‘Like the desirable woman you are.’
‘Oh!’ She leaned into his hand, filling it with her bounty.
‘Exactly,’ he whispered from his suddenly parched throat. He’d wanted to touch her all night and the reality didn’t disappoint. She arched, pressing closer, and satisfaction welled. At least he wasn’t the only one drowning in this tide of hunger.
She looked up at him through her lashes, the picture of provocation. ‘Then what would you do?’
His laughter was a harsh bark of self-derision. He was the sensualist, and she the woman who had to be convinced of her sex appeal, yet he was the one teetering on the brink.
‘I’d make love to you till your bones melted and you couldn’t walk.’ He breathed deep, rapidly losing himself in the image he’d created. ‘Then I’d do it all again.’ His desire for her was stronger than anything he remembered. Outstripping his need for any recent lover. Far beyond anything he’d felt for the bridal hopefuls paraded for him.
‘I wish you would,’ she murmured, lifting her head so he read answering desire in her bright eyes.
Instantly