Dreaming Of... Bali: The Man to Be Reckoned With / Nine Month Countdown / Harry St Clair: Rogue or Doctor?. Fiona McArthur
she done? What was happening to her? Another few minutes and she would have let him make love to her right there, on the floor. Begged him to finish what he had started. A shudder racked through her.
His touch gentle, Nathan clasped her jaw. “Riya, look at me.”
Jerking away from his grasp, Riya rose to her feet and straightened her clothes and her hair.
He approached her and she scuttled away again toward the door.
“Stop, Riya.” His brow tied into a fierce scowl. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
She shook her head, incredibly frustrated and scared and wound up. “I needed that thud,” she said jerkily. “Because it’s obvious I’ve lost all sense. You took my company, you want to take the one place that’s ever been home to me, you keep kissing me and I don’t stop you and now you’ve made me bang my head on that hard tile and it hurts like the mother of all...”
Her voice rose on the last few words until she was shouting at him.
“It does seem like you only bring pain to me, so I should be afraid. At least hate you, but why the hell do I not feel either?”
“Don’t know.” He sounded inordinately pleased with her unwise declaration.
She risked a look at him, saw his mobile mouth twitching and burst into laughter herself. “It’s not funny,” she yelled at him, even as more laughter was on the way.
She was doubling over then, both laughing and something else, everything piling up on her.
Before she could breathe again, she was in his arms again with his arms locked tight around her, him whispering, “Shh...Riya... You’re in shock...”
Male heat, hard muscle, smooth skin...irresistible Nathan. But beneath all that, it felt incredibly good to be just held, to laugh with him, to be in this place that was both strangely intimate and thrilling. A thrill she had had too much of for one evening.
Extracting herself from the cocoon of his arms, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “Will you please cover yourself?”
Throwing a strange look at her, he pulled on a sweatshirt and she hurried toward the door.
He appeared between her and the door, his gaze concerned. “You hit your head pretty hard. Check and see if there’s a bump.”
“I’m fine,” she said.
This was not okay; this was not good. Only three weeks in his company and she was ready to throw away all the lessons she had learned, ready to forget all the pain relationships caused, the clawing self-doubt they left.
This heat between them, it was nothing but a challenge for him. He could kiss her and shake it off after a few minutes while the very fabric of her life shook. He would tangle with her and walk away unscathed, while she would wonder and spiral into self-pity and anger. Would forever wonder why it was so easy to walk away from her.
“You’re not stepping out until I’m sure you’re okay. If you don’t check properly, I’ll have to do it. And it won’t stop there if I lay a hand on you again.”
When he stepped toward her, she held him off. Fighting the furious heat climbing up her neck and chest, she poked her fingers under her hair. “There’s some swelling.”
His pithy curse echoed around them. Riya suddenly remembered.
He had almost fainted, she was sure now. “I thought you were going to collapse. Yet you weren’t even surprised. What does it mean? Are you okay? Shouldn’t you be the one that should see the doctor?”
Shadows fell over his eyes instantly and Riya knew with a certainty he wasn’t going to tell her the truth. Was he unwell? “I think I just overdid it with the exercise.” He exhaled in a big rush, ran a hand over his jaw. “I’ll be fine. Why did you come here?”
Since they had returned, they danced around each other, avoided even talking to each other without anyone around. And today was a testament to what they had both known.
Apparently even his cold treatment of Sonia wasn’t enough to make her see sense.
“I heard that you were leaving for Abu Dhabi. I won’t let you leave without seeing Robert.”
His hands landed on his lean hips, the bones jutting out at the band of his sweatpants. The hollow planes of his muscles there were the most erotic sight she had ever seen.
“Excuse me?” he said with such exaggerated arrogance that she lifted her gaze to his.
“Yes. To remind you that it’s been almost three weeks and you haven’t seen Robert yet. You said—”
“Heaven help a man who tangles with you.” He shook his head, resignation filling his eyes. “I’ll see him tomorrow, fine? Now shut up and sit down.”
Switching his cell phone, he rattled off orders for a physician and his chauffeur.
“I don’t need to—”
“Doctor or me, Riya?” he challenged.
“Doctor,” she said, sinking into the couch.
Even without looking at him, she was aware of his movements at the periphery of her vision. Heard the Velcro rip of his watch. What had happened to his Rolex? Frowning, she turned and saw him look at the display and note down something in a small notepad.
He wiped his face with a towel and Riya pulled her gaze away.
Not that she had missed the rippling muscles or the small birthmark he had on the inside of his biceps. Or that instead of turning her off, even being sweaty, he muddled her senses and filled her with an unbearable longing. Or that he kissed as if he could never stop. Or that he liked having utter control even as he shredded hers.
Or that she had liked it—the way he couldn’t stop, the way he took control, the way he just made it hard for her to think, the way he knew exactly what would drive her wild with longing. That she had liked how good it felt to give herself over to him, body and mind, that she trusted him as she had never trusted anyone.
All of them were things she shouldn’t know about him. A bunch of things she didn’t want to know about herself.
She felt raw, exposed. All she wanted was to run. Far from him, far from herself.
Handing her a chilled bottle of water, he dropped to the couch, and Riya shot up from the couch. He tugged her down. Riya slinked to the edge, her breath coming in choppy bursts. Panic weaved through her.
“You and me, this can’t happen, Nathan.”
“You can’t control everything in life, Riya. I don’t want this to happen either, but I’ve learned the hard way that you can’t have everything the way you want it.”
She turned to him, desperation raising her tone. “Don’t say that, don’t just...accept this.”
His mouth took on a rueful twist. “What do you want me to do? Wave a wand that’ll make it go away? The only solution I can think of is dragging you inside and giving us both what we so desperately want. Maybe we should get it out of the way, and things will be much clearer then.”
“This is probably your MO. Seduce a woman, say goodbye and walk away. And cut her out if she doesn’t accept your decision. Like you did with Sonia. But I won’t fall for you. You have no heart. You’re the last kind of man that I should kiss, or want, or...”
Fury dawned in his eyes, turning them into blue fire. “Is it helping, then? If my being here is turning you inside out, how about you give me the blasted estate? I’ll leave tonight.”
“No. I can’t.”
“Damn it, Riya. You’re not responsible for Jackie or Robert or anyone else. You were what? Twelve? Thirteen, when my mother died?”
“Robert regrets his mistakes. I know he does. He gave Jackie