by Alisha Rai
“Leyla,” he said, his tone mild.
“Yeah?”
“Shut up and come here. My arms are feeling empty.”
Tears stung her eyes. When he’d been grieving over his father, she’d said the same thing to him more than once.
Without looking at his face, she walked into his familiar arms. He folded her close. When she tried to keep her face from touching him to avoid makeup transfer, he pressed a firm hand against her neck. “Baby, you think I don’t know you yet? I won’t deny it, my first thought was to seduce you tonight, but I had no intention of either of us having second thoughts in the morning. I can honestly tell you that my intentions are completely pure.”
He paused. “I should have known you wouldn’t be able to just fall into bed with me.”
“’Cause I’m weird.” Her voice was muffled.
He laughed softly. “No. I love your beliefs. I love that you’re willing to stand behind them. You, not strong? I can’t believe you would think that. Having sex with a man doesn’t prove your strength. You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met.”
She turned her head to the side. “I’m going to be honest. I want you bad, and I may not really have been able to stay self-righteous for long. If you’d pressed the issue this morning, I probably wouldn’t have left your bedroom all day.”
“That’s what you think. I don’t want to fuck you, Leyla, I want to make love to you. Even if we did end up in bed tonight, and I’m not saying we will, I’m not budging tomorrow morning. I want a relationship.”
Her heart soared. “You do?”
“Yeah.” He stroked his hands through her loose hair. “What about you?”
“I think I’d like to try it.” Suddenly she was filled with optimism, with excitement. Granted, if they dated and it ended badly, there would be fallout, but she knew with all of her heart if they didn’t try, she’d regret it for her life. A thought occurred to her, the fly in the ointment, so to speak, and she frowned. “What about my brother?”
“I don’t want to fuck him, either.”
She gave a watery laugh. “I’m serious. You know he’ll have a coronary. As far as he’s concerned, I don’t know where babies come from yet. His first instinct will be to shoot you. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have to look far for a gun, either.”
Mason sighed. “How about we worry about Sasha when we have to? The last thing I want to do is hurt a man I love like a brother. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to give us up. I’m crazy in love with you. We’ll work everything out, don’t worry.”
She froze at his words. “I can’t believe you’re telling me you love me right before our first official date.”
“What can I say? We’re clearly going to be one of those couples who does everything out of order.”
Veiled Desire
Chapter Seven
Mason couldn’t quite stop glancing over at the small figure in his passenger seat. She was equally affected. Their gazes would catch, and they would share a goofy smile. He’d been excited all day, since he’d put his deepest fear to rest in his kitchen this morning—that she thought of him as a son or brother—but it was nothing to how he felt right now. In his heart, he felt like a schoolboy who had just gotten a flower from the pretty girl in biology.
He shifted in his seat and winced. His body, though, felt like a man’s. Fuck, he needed to not look at Leyla. Her lips, her eyes, her hair, her legs…a glimpse of any of those features and a little more blood rushed out of his brain.
She’d donned a simple blue sweater thing, so at least her top was covered up, but there was still that long expanse of toned leg to look at. The dress would have been modest on any other woman, but since Leyla didn’t usually wear anything cut above the knee, she might as well be naked in his overwrought mind.
He wondered if this was how men in the Victorian period felt when they caught a glimpse of an ankle. It was the forbidden, the hidden exposed, and there was something erotic about it.
He tried to focus on the road and off her creamy skin. He would have blown dinner off then and there. Or perhaps he could have cooked the meal himself and fed her bites in bed—
Mason cut off that line of thought. No. He wasn’t a ravening beast. She deserved romance and all that other stuff women liked. Just because they’d known each other forever didn’t mean they should hop into bed.
A relationship. He savored the word. Most men probably would go running for the hills at the thought of a woman who wouldn’t have sex without some promise of commitment, but not him. Not with Leyla. Their life together was inevitable, as far as he was concerned. He was actually relieved he wouldn’t have to worry that she wanted him just for sex. Thank God for her direct and straightforward nature. The last thing he wanted was for there to be doubt or mistrust between them.
The silence in the car was broken when Mason turned into the parking lot of the deceptively small brick restaurant. Leyla gave a low whistle. “You need reservations at Jackie’s.”
“I might have called and made one.”
“Weeks ago? Because that’s how exclusive they are.”
He hunched his shoulders, a bit embarrassed. “Maybe.”
“What would you have done if I had turned you down or had plans?”
“Gone by myself and cried into a plate of spicy basil chicken,” he replied solemnly.
She snorted a laugh. “This place is expensive.”
“I know I’m not raking in the big bucks yet, but I can afford a night out.” He waggled his brows at her as they parked in front of the entrance. “Stick with me, kid, and in a few years, we could be eating here every night.”
“You can’t fool me. We also both know that you didn’t get into medicine for the money.”
Mason smiled and unbuckled his seat belt. “Sometimes I forget how well you know me.” When their parents had been hit by the drunk driver, the Karimis had died on impact. A blessing, Mason had thought at the time, since his dad had lingered in the hospital for almost three weeks before passing on. Even with Sasha and Leyla at his side, it had been a brutal experience. The doctors had become heroes in his mind, and he’d worked like a dog in school to grow up to be like them.
Not for the first time, Mason appreciated the shared bank of memories he and Leyla could draw on. He didn’t have to explain every little detail of his life. Leyla had been there for most of it.
One point in favor of their relationship.
The valets opened their doors, and he got out and handed his keys to the uniformed guy. Deadpan, he patted the roof of his car. “Take good care of her, boys.”
The man blinked, and then glanced doubtfully at the used Toyota Mason had bought in college, lined up with the Porsches and BMWs in the drive. “Uhhh…”
Leyla stifled her snort of laughter, but he heard it. Another point in their favor: She thought his stupid humor was actually funny.
As they walked up the long sidewalk, he glanced down at her. He had to resist the urge to throw her over his shoulder and run for the closest room with a bed and a lock.
He heaved a sigh. No, that wasn’t fair. And frankly, he needed to stop thinking about sex. He couldn’t take it as a forgone conclusion that they would make it anywhere near a bed.
He might have been joking about crying all alone before, but at the thought of not touching all of Leyla’s glorious skin, he could have sworn he felt a tear gather in his eye.
Veiled Desire
Chapter Eight
The food was divine, the wine was plentiful, the atmosphere was intimate, and all Leyla wanted to do was get Mason home and naked.
She sighed. No, she needed to be strong. Mason had worked hard on this night, and she could hardly pooh-pooh his romantic efforts.
She tried to focus past her horniness to savor sitting in the exclusive restaurant. She was alone for the moment, Mason having excused himself to go to the restroom.
The place really was lovely, the theme understated romance and elegance. They were seat
ed in a plush private booth. The slight tinkle of glassware and hushed murmur of conversation created a pleasant accompaniment to the superb dinners.
Her eye caught on an older couple sitting a few tables away, and she studied them. They were in their sixties, but that wasn’t what separated them from the masses of other couples in the restaurant. Her purse wasn’t designer, and his suit jacket was clearly a bit too snug for him. They’d only ordered one entrée to split between the two of them. Their hands touched, their heads bowed close to each other. When she spoke, the man leaned in to listen. When he laughed, her eyes lit up. As Leyla watched, he reached up a wrinkled hand and caressed her cheek.
Leyla looked away, unable to help but feel that she was intruding on a private moment. Her throat was choked with longing.
All her adult life, she’d wondered if maybe she was abnormal for not feeling more of a desire to date and pursue men in that relentless fight to find the one that she’d watched her other friends embark upon. But now she wondered if she’d been so indifferent toward most men because deep down she’d known they wouldn’t be able to give her what that couple clearly had. That love and devotion and enjoyment of just being with another person. No man had ever made her feel as though she could be with them for years down the road. Except Mason.
She smiled as she watched him walk back toward her. He was so tall and beautiful, but she’d seen him at his worst, when he was grouchy or sloppy, and she still found him wildly attractive.
They’d started out at opposite ends of the booth, but by the time the entrées had come, they were sitting fairly close together. He slid in right next to her. “I hate it when they have attendants in bathrooms. It makes me feel like I’m being watched.”
His silly comment was so at odds with her grave, deep thoughts, she was startled into a laugh. “It’s supposed to make you feel pampered.”
“Hell, if they want to give me a massage, awesome. I don’t need someone to hand me a towel to wipe my hands. How’s your food?”
“Good.”
“Let me try some of that.”
She cut the juicy chicken breast and scooped it up with a forkful of pasta. Enjoying the novelty of feeding him, she scooted in a bit closer so they sat hip to hip and held it out.
His full lips closed over the fork, and he gave a slight moan. Her heart stuttered just a bit. His eyes were laughing as he pulled away, as if he knew how he affected her. “Very nice.”
She stuck her tongue out at him, and his gaze heated. Without warning, he dipped his head and gently touched his tongue against hers.
“Stop teasing,” he murmured as he drew away.
Leyla was short on breath. “I’m not the one teasing.”
“Yeah, right.” He smiled and cut into his steak.
Leyla tried to concentrate on her food, but it was hard to go through the motions when hunger was really the least important need racking her body. Her eye caught on the elderly couple again. She dropped her voice to a whisper. “Mason, do you see that couple across from us?”
Mason glanced over, and his face seemed to soften. “Yeah.”
“What do you see when you look at them?”
He studied them for a moment longer and then looked back down at his food. A slight flush tinged his cheeks. “I don’t know.”
She’d seen that expression on his face before, when he knew something but didn’t want to reveal it. It was still just as easy to get him to spill now as it had been at thirteen. “Come on. Please?”
The look he gave her was decidedly wary. “You’ll get freaked out.”
“I promise I won’t.”
“I see…us. What I want for us.”
Her heart melted right there. Just turned into a big pile of goo inside of her chest. “Oh Mason.”
He scooted so they were, somehow, even closer, and placed his hand on her face. “You are the only woman I can ever imagine growing old with like that.”
Any little doubts she may have still had vanished. “You know what you did to me this morning?” Her voice was so soft he had to lean in.
She glanced up at him from beneath her lashes, her gaze hot. It felt good to be brazen, to be a vixen. She’d never quite tried it out before, but she liked it. At his nod, she continued. “I want to do that to you. When we’re done here, I just want to get you alone and watch you come for me.”
If Mason hadn’t had a boner before, he had one now. It felt like all the blood rushed right to his cock. He couldn’t think, couldn’t speak. He could only imagine Leyla on her knees, on her back, his cock inside her fist, her mouth. God.
“Leyla.” He’d never heard his voice quite that rough, and he tried to clear the frog in his throat. “You said you couldn’t just jump into bed with me.”
“I said I didn’t want a one-night stand.” She shrugged her dainty shoulders. “The way I figure it, you’ve been courting me for a few months, haven’t you?”
Courting. Such an old-fashioned word. But yes, that was exactly what he’d been doing. “Yes.”
“And we both intend to see each other romantically in the future,” she continued, her voice incredibly pragmatic for someone who’d just declared her intention to jerk him off. “So, there’s no issue with having sexual relations with one another. Sex is a healthy and normal part of any relationship.”
He stared down at her. Would she ever cease to surprise him? “How do you know I didn’t just feed you a line of bull so you’d hop in bed with me?”
She gave him a vaguely pitying look. “Please, Mason. I know you.”
He sat up a little taller. She knew him. Of course.
In his mind, he dissolved the little pro and con list he’d made regarding their involvement with one another. He didn’t really need to keep score anymore.
They knew each other. That point pretty much trumped any other con he could come up with. “I swear, if I hadn’t promised myself to give you a romantic, wonderful date tonight, I’d take you home and we could get started on that.”
She blinked up at him. “I was just telling myself that I couldn’t rush through to get you alone since you’d gone through so much trouble to come here.”
They stared at each other for a moment. She spoke first. “Go get the car.”
Mason looked around for the waiter. “We need to pay first.”
“I’ll pay.” She gave him a shove. “Go. Hurry.”
He withdrew his wallet from his pocket and slapped it down on the table before drawing her close for a quick, hard kiss. It hurt not to linger and taste all of that sweet spiciness, but he managed to pull away.
As he stood and walked away, his gaze caught on the man and woman Leyla had pointed out. The man lifted the woman’s fingers and kissed each one as she blushed a pretty red.
Mason smiled as tenderness softened some of his hard-edged lust. A common mix of emotions around Leyla. He thought of her provocative words and realized that for tonight, at least, the lust might trump.
Veiled Desire
Chapter Nine
The ride back home was silent, the atmosphere charged with tension. Mason turned his blinker on and exited the freeway. The roads to their development were more rural, and the streetlights fell away, until the interior of the car was lit only by the slight glow of the dashboard.
He jumped when he felt Leyla’s hand smooth over his thigh. His cock readied for her touch and the promise she’d made for the coming night.
She wasn’t coy or demure. Her hand coasted right up his leg until she found the bulge at his crotch. She squeezed gently, and his hands jerked on the wheel. “Leyla. What are you doing?”
“Do you have to ask?” Her tone was confident, amused. He couldn’t say anything when she unbuckled his belt and undid the button and zipper with deft motions.
“Let me pull over,” he said hoarsely.
“No. I want to get home.” She leaned in and pressed a chaste kiss against his cheek, a direct contrast to the bold hand smoothing inside his open fly. His cock h
ad already punched past the top of his Jockeys, and she pulled the underwear farther down. Then his cock was in her hands, and he didn’t think anything had ever felt so good in his life as his tortured flesh, finally, finally being touched by her sweet hand.
She oh-so-slowly stroked up and then down, as if she were memorizing the feel of him. “I saw you. Just a bit. You didn’t know, but I was watching you the other night. You were in your underwear, getting ready for your shower, and I saw you.” She said it in a soft tone, half dreamy, half apologetic.
He swallowed and kept his eyes on the road. He was going about ten miles under the already-low speed limit. Thank God no one else was on the road. “I know.”
Her hand paused on his cock. If he was just a little bit less macho, he would have wept. “You knew I was there?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“You were undressing—for me?”
“I wanted you to want me. It was juvenile, but—oh God.” She was sucking the skin of his neck, her hand tightening on his cock and stroking harder.
She drew her mouth away, her breath coming in small excited puffs against his skin. Her hand continued to work him, her palm rubbing over the sensitive head and using his own lubrication to slick her way. “I felt a little silly, getting aroused by the sight of you in your underwear, when there’s models on TV wearing far less, but I’d never seen you in so little.”
“No, not silly. That was the way I felt tonight. I see women wearing less then you all the time, but just because it’s you showing a little more leg than you normally do…” He threw her a quick smile between gritted teeth, because it was really difficult to talk normally when she was doing such an amazing job touching him. “There’s nothing wrong with being turned on by a little subtle sexiness.”