There was something in the way she said his name. Something he’d never heard before in a woman’s voice. Something that said her fear masked a different emotion, one she wasn’t ready to confront.
Even in his out of control fury, he heard it.
“Salome,” he whispered…and she shuddered and raised her face blindly to his.
“Cam,” she said again, and he groaned, gathered her close and kissed her. Kissed her with a mix of hunger and tenderness. He said her name again. Then he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
He lay her back against the pillows. Her eyes shone with tears, but now they glittered like stars. Her mouth was pink and swollen from his kisses.
Cam’s heart turned over.
He’d lied to her. To himself. He’d never have taken her through force. He wanted this. Needed this. Her, asking for his possession. Burning for him as he burned for her.
“Tell me,” he said, just as he had before… Except, this time he knew what her answer would be.
“Cameron.” Her lips curved in a tremulous smile as she raised her arms to him. “Please. Make love to me.”
He came down on the bed beside her and reached for the buttons on her shirt. He opened one. Then another, but his fingers felt clumsy and he growled in frustration, grasped the edges of the cotton fabric and tore it open, baring her breasts.
He’d seen them before. Touched them. Then, he’d pretended it didn’t matter. Now, he wanted her to know that nothing mattered more.
“You’re beautiful,” he said as he bent to her, kissed her pale gold flesh, licked an apricot nipple and then drew it into his mouth.
She gave a little cry and arched toward him.
“So beautiful,” he said, and slid his hand under the golden thong.
She was hot. Wet. For him, only for him. She moaned his name as he found the swollen bud within her honeyed folds and stroked it.
Her eyes went dark with pleasure, and he damned near lost control.
Slow down, his head whispered, but his body was on a timetable of its own. He couldn’t wait. Not anymore.
He’d take her quickly this first time. Just unzip his jeans, enter her. Drive her up and up, fly with her into the sun. Then he’d make slow love to her, discover all the things that excited her, watch her face as she came, then let go and empty himself inside her…
Oh, God! His head snapped back as the awful truth hit home.
He had no condoms.
“Cam? Cam, what’s the matter?”
He looked down into her eyes, pools of deepest blue in the soft light of late afternoon, and let himself think what it would be like to enter her without protection. Slide deep into all that heat. Ride her, bareback.
Just the thought drove him dangerously close to the edge. Carefully, ignoring her whimper of protest, he sat back.
“We can’t do this,” he said gruffly.
“But I thought—I thought we both wanted—”
He leaned forward and kissed her, hard.
“We do, sweetheart. But I don’t have a condom.”
“A con…” Her face turned red. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” For a second, he wished he were seventeen again, a kid with a constant hard-on and a rubber always tucked in his wallet.
“But you don’t…” She hesitated. He could see her throat constrict as she swallowed, almost as if the intimacy of their talk embarrassed her. “You don’t need one. It’s—it’s safe.”
Safe? No way. Calendar roulette wasn’t his speed.
“I’m on the pill, Cam. Because—because my cycle’s irregular. That happens to some dancers.”
He felt his belly knot. Why go through such a convoluted explanation when they both knew damned well why she was on the pill?
“It’s from all the exercise.”
Oh, yes. She probably got a lot of exercise.
“It’s not one of those pills you have to take every day, so—”
“And a good thing it’s not,” he said coldly, welcoming his anger, knowing it was far safer than whatever he’d come close to feeling a couple of minutes ago. Smiling tightly, he rolled away from her. “Thanks. But there’s more to consider than calendars.”
“You mean—you mean, the possibility of—of disease?”
He wanted to shake her until her teeth rattled. She sounded as innocent as a schoolgirl. How in hell could he have forgotten what a fine actress she was?
“Yes,” he said coldly. “That’s exactly what I mean.”
“I don’t—I mean, I can’t—I mean…” Her color deepened. “Cam? I’m not—”
“Yeah. I’m sure you’re not. You probably have a health department certificate to prove it.” He bared his teeth. “Where are those things when a girl needs them, hmm?”
Her face went from pink to white in a heartbeat. “You son of a bitch!”
“Lay off the name-calling for a while, okay? I’m tired of it. Just go take your bath. I’ll see about that meal Shalla promised us.”
“I’d sooner starve than eat with—”
But Leanna was talking to herself.
Cam had already stormed from the room.
Go take your bath? Was that really what he’d said?
Cameron Knight couldn’t speak a sentence without turning it into an order.
Besides, she’d sooner have stayed sweaty and dirty than climb into that obscene tub. The basin, hot water, soap and a washcloth would do just fine.
Clean, skin almost raw from all the scrubbing—as if it were possible to scrub away the unseen imprint of a man’s hands—Leanna opened a closet in the bathroom and found it filled with silky gowns—caftans, she supposed—in a rainbow of colors. She chose one blindly and slipped it over her bare skin, buttoning it from her throat to her toes. There were matching slippers, too, but when she tried putting her feet into them, she winced. The toes on her left foot were tender.
Better to go barefoot than risk an injury that might affect her dancing, she thought…and almost laughed. Dancing again was the least of her worries. First, she’d have to get out of this place alive. It killed her to admit, but she knew she’d never be able to do it alone.
If Cam had abandoned her…
No. She wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. Wasn’t there some old saying about not borrowing trouble ahead of time?
A small lacquered box held ivory hairpins. Leanna pulled her hair into a loose topknot and pinned it in place.
The bathroom door was still on its hinges, though it hung drunkenly in its frame. She opened it cautiously. The bedroom was empty. So was the sitting room. Someone had been here, though. The room was bright with candlelight; a long table held an assortment of food and drink.
Leanna filled a crystal goblet with water and sipped at it as she stepped through a pair of French doors onto a wide stone balcony.
The moon hung like a cameo against a black velvet sky that blazed with the fire of a billion stars. Gardens stretched in every direction, their flowers delicately scenting the night. Below the terrace, torches illuminated a curving azure pool.
The setting was blissful but even the set for a ballet was more real than this. Cameron Knight wasn’t a prince any more than she was a princess, waiting to be awakened by his kiss. The things that had made him seem so attractive here, where survival depended on his testosterone levels, would be a turnoff anywhere else.
She was embarrassed even thinking it, because she wasn’t proud of it, but the truth was, sleeping with him would have been—it would have been the equivalent of going slumming.
Cam had none of the qualities she’d ever wanted in a man. He’d dented her pride but she’d—but she’d—
Leanna caught her breath. She stepped back into the shadows. Cam was heading toward the pool, strolling along as if he owned the world.
What was he doing?
Unhurriedly he stripped off his T-shirt. Didn’t it occur to him that someone might be watching? That she—
Her mouth went dry as he s
tepped out of his jeans.
God, he was beautiful! The hard, dangerous face. The black hair, long and curling lightly at his nape. The wide shoulders and broad chest, taut abdomen…
Her eyes danced lower.
He was still aroused. Incredibly aroused.
Desire flooded her senses. There was no point in lying to herself. She’d never admit it to him—she’d never have to—but how could a woman see this man and not want him?
He stepped to the edge of the pool, then dived in. The water hardly rippled. A second passed. Then his head broke the surface. He swam the pool’s length, jackknifed and swam it again, over and over until she lost count.
At last, he hoisted himself out of the water. As he did, he looked up at the terrace. Leanna’s heart stopped. Then she remembered that he couldn’t see her.
But she could see him.
All that exercise hadn’t done a thing to lessen his frustration.
Wouldn’t it be lovely if she could find a way to make it worse? He’d accused her of deliberately teasing him, but she hadn’t.
She hadn’t.
Because if she had, if she really wanted to drive him crazy…
Don’t do it, Leanna. She heard the little whisper inside her, loud and clear. Leanna, don’t!
She watched as he put on his jeans. Folded his arms. Stared up at the balcony, even though he couldn’t see her.
Leanna took a deep breath. Closed her eyes. Let the music start to play in her mind. It was the “Bolero.” She loved listening to it but she had never danced to it.
Not surprising, considering that she danced ballet.
What she danced on this night would not be ballet. It would be a dance of her own creation, designed to show a man she despised exactly what he’d missed.
Slowly she stepped from the shadows into the moonlight. The night turned still, as if the world were holding its breath. She looked down, watched Cam’s expression change when he saw her.
Something hot and wild skittered through her blood.
Eyes shut, head lifted, she swayed and dipped to music only she could hear. Her head fell back. Her body arched. She raised her arms to the moon as the beat of the music and the beat of her heart became one.
The tempo quickened. She brought her hands to the first button of the caftan. Slowly, still swaying, she undid the buttons until the garment hung open on her shoulders, exposing her naked body to the night…
To the man who watched her.
The primordial pulse of the music filled her senses. Leanna took the pins from her hair and let it tumble over her shoulders in golden waves. She raised her hands to her breasts and cupped them, then let her palms drift down the curves of her body, over her belly, to her thighs.
The music reached fever pitch. She stood absolutely still. Slowly, as the last note faded into the night, she let the caftan slide to the floor, the fabric sighing against her sensitized flesh like a lover’s whisper.
Naked, she lifted her arms to the moon—and knew she had not danced to torment the man watching her.
She had danced to seduce him.
Silence hung on the night breeze. Then she heard Cam speak her name.
“Salome.”
She opened her eyes and looked down. Too late. He was already moving, disappearing as he rounded the pool.
He was coming for her.
The sitting room door flew open. She spun toward the sound and saw him as he came into the room. She could almost feel the heat coming off him, smell the scent of his maleness.
All at once, she was afraid. Her hands flew to her breasts and groin in an age-old gesture of protection.
“Wait,” she whispered. “Cam—”
He slammed the door and started toward her, kicking aside a chair that stood in his way. When he reached her, he caught her in his arms.
“No more waiting, Salome,” he said roughly, and took her down to the silk carpet.
“Cam,” she said, “Cam—”
But he was beyond hearing her. Beyond rational thought. He kissed her, shoved his knee between her thighs, caught her wrists and pinned her arms high over her head.
“Watch me,” he said. “I want to see your face as I take you.”
He entered her on one long, hard thrust. Leanna cried out and his body shuddered, then went completely still.
God, he thought, God, could it be true?
His Salome was a virgin.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A VIRGIN?
The woman who’d come to him dressed like a houri? Who had come to Baslaam as Asaad’s sexual toy?
There was no mistaking the fragile barrier that shielded her from Cam’s full penetration.
Sweat beaded his forehead. Every muscle in his body screamed with tension as he fought against sinking into her.
“Salome,” he said hoarsely, “why didn’t you tell me?”
“I tried. Before. When you said you didn’t have a condom, but—”
“Ah, God, what a fool I’ve been.”
“Shh. It doesn’t matter. Just—just—” She moved. A delicate shift of her hips, but it was enough to make him close his eyes and groan.
“Don’t—don’t do that, sweetheart. Just—just hold still. I’ll pull back and you—” The breath hissed between his teeth. She’d shifted again, lifting toward him with such subtlety he might have imagined it.
But he hadn’t.
She wanted him.
The realization filled him with a joy so fierce it shocked him. His golden dancer had never lain in a man’s arms. Now, she lay in his.
And she wanted him.
But she was a virgin. A virgin. As rare a gift as a man could find in this upside-down, often brutal world.
How could he take her innocence? She wasn’t thinking straight. The danger. The adrenaline rush. No, she wasn’t thinking straight and besides…
Besides, he didn’t deserve her gift.
She was brave and strong and beautiful, his Salome, and her virginity belonged to someone else, not someone like him. Not a man who knew more of the world’s evil than he could ever forget.
If had did one right thing in his life, it would be this.
“Cam?”
Her whisper was filled with questions, but he had the only answer that made sense. Slowly, slowly, he began to withdraw from her.
“No,” she said, and her muscles tightened around him.
His heart thundered in his chest. Could a man die of pleasure? Of doing the right thing?
“Shh,” he murmured. “It’s all right, sweetheart.”
A shudder racked his body as he made the final separation from her. She whimpered in protest and he brushed his mouth lightly over hers.
“Salome,” he said softly. “Forgive me.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
“I should have listened to you, sweetheart, but I was too damned stubborn.”
“Then, listen to me now.” Her eyes met his. “I don’t want you to stop.” She framed his face with her hands. “I want you to make love to me, Cam. I want you inside me.”
Her plea was a torment. Somehow, he managed to shake his head.
“You think this is what you want, but it isn’t.”
“Damn you, Cameron.” The words were harsh, but her voice shook and tears glittered in her eyes. “Don’t you want me?”
Cam wrapped the caftan around her and drew her into his arms. Holding her close, he rocked her against him.
“More than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life.”
“Then why—”
“Because I’m everything you said I was. Every name you called me.” He lifted her face, stroked her hair back from her temples. “You deserve someone better.”
“No! Don’t say that. You—”
“Just let me hold you, baby. Come on. Lean against me.”
The seconds crept by. He could feel her body softening against his. Finally she sighed.
“I understand. Girls talk. Some of them say—they say vir
ginity is a burden.”
“The hell it is!” He clasped her shoulders and held her just far enough from him so he could look into her eyes. “It’s a gift, Salome. That’s why—” His voice roughened. “That’s why I just want to hold you in my arms. Why I wish to God I could take back all the things I accused you of.”
Uncut Bundle Page 27