by Annie West
Jacqui stared up at him, seeing a flash of fury, and felt her eyes widen. He was serious. And he was mightily offended.
To her horror something crumbled a little inside. Could she have got it so wrong? Had Lady Rania been too polite to tell her she’d been mistaken about the gown suiting her? Had the diplomat’s assiduous attention been too over-done? Could he have felt sorry for her, trying to masquerade as glamorous when she wasn’t?
Jacqui swallowed and it felt like razor wire lodged in her throat. She’d never been a good judge of fashion. Had she been blinded by the beauty of the dress into thinking it could transform her with a mere slither of its silk?
A horrible churning sensation filled her insides. Normally she didn’t worry too much about how she looked. But tonight she’d thought...
‘It won’t happen again, Your Highness.’ Her voice was wooden but she refused to look away and let him see how much the truth hurt. ‘Next time, if there is a next time, I’ll wear my suit.’
He nodded stiffly. ‘That would be preferable to making an exhibition of yourself.’
Jacqui tore her hand from his, anger and hurt spiralling uncontrollably. It was one thing to know her limitations after having her stepmother harp on them so often, but it was horrible to hear him spell them out.
‘Damn you!’ She snarled the syllables between gritted teeth. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’ Her breath sawed in her throat as she strove for breath. ‘We can’t all be glamorous and sexy like you but that doesn’t give you the right to belittle others for the way they look.’
Jacqui marched away, only to catch herself up on her long skirt. Cursing under her breath, she scrabbled at the slippery silk, lifting it enough to walk, and strode off.
She’d gone two steps when he grabbed her elbow and swung her round to face him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘YOU’RE NOT SERIOUS.’
But those amber eyes spat fire at him. This was no joke. And there was hurt in the twist of her mouth.
His stomach dived.
‘Never more so.’ Her jaw angled so she could look down her nose at him, despite the fact he was so much taller. This woman had sass.
She also had sex appeal in spades. Only iron willpower kept his hand on her elbow instead of skimming up that shimmering fabric and cupping her firm, high breasts. His gaze dipped inevitably and he saw her nipples tighten as if responding to the hunger inside him.
‘Oh!’ She stamped her foot on his but she was barefoot and it had no impact. ‘Let me go. Now!’ She thrashed in his hold, trying to get free.
‘Be still, Jacqueline. You’ll—’
‘Don’t you dare “Jacqueline” me. It’s Jacqui. Or Jack.’ Her mouth trembled and pain smacked him in the chest.
‘You’ve got it wrong.’
‘Oh, I have, have I? So you didn’t come stomping after me to tell me I shouldn’t have worn this?’
‘No. Yes.’ Asim gritted his teeth, infuriated with himself as much as her. Even now he couldn’t believe his behaviour. He’d insulted her, grabbed her, hurt her. Spent the whole evening lusting after her. ‘You don’t understand.’ Hell, he didn’t understand! Where was his calm? His easy charm? Where was his dislike of reporters?
Her eyebrows arched. ‘It’s late, Your Highness, and we’ve both said enough. If you’d refrain from manhandling me, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Manhandling you?’ Frustration ignited, fanned into a roaring inferno by guilt and raw need. ‘This is manhandling.’
He grabbed her other arm and swung her round, pushing her backwards. He heard a soft ‘Ooh,’ of surprise as her back hit the wall. Those mysterious eyes opened wide as if for the first time she sensed what it was to be at a man’s mercy.
Not that he’d harm her. He just wanted her to shut up and listen.
Her tongue darted out to slick her lower lip and heat drilled into his belly. It was a habit she had when nervous. The first few times she’d come to his office, only that had given away the fact she knew how precarious her position was, that he’d look for any excuse to get rid of her.
Now, as then, the unconscious movement tore at his self-control. That mouth of hers...
Consciously he relaxed his grip, but not enough for her to slip away. To be sure he stepped in close so they stood toe-to-toe, their breaths mingling.
‘I shouldn’t have spoken like that.’ His words sounded stilted, emerging from stiff lips. He wasn’t used to apologising. He wasn’t used to letting emotions get out of hand or blurting words before he considered them. He was renowned for diplomacy!
‘No, you shouldn’t.’ Her eyes narrowed like laser-sharp sunbeams, scoring his skin. ‘But you’ve made your point and I want you to let me go. I’m very tired.’
Liar. The energy running through her slender frame all but gave off sparks. His hands tingled just holding her through the silken sleeves.
Asim slammed a door on his thoughts before he could contemplate holding her bare flesh.
‘I didn’t mean what you think.’
‘Of course you didn’t. I must have imagined it all.’ Sarcasm dripped from each syllable, but it didn’t quite mask her hurt, and again Asim felt pain stab him in the gut.
He’d known she was affected by recent trauma but how could he have guessed she also had a warped self-image? It seemed impossible that a woman so intelligent and feisty should so underestimate herself.
‘You think you don’t look glamorous and sexy?’ He couldn’t quite keep the disbelief from his voice.
She stood ramrod-stiff. ‘Don’t! You’ve said enough on the subject.’
Asim shook his head, his gaze locked on hers. That fiery stare sent blasts of heat running through his blood.
‘I didn’t say it right. My complaint wasn’t that you looked...’ He searched for a word then remembered her usual camouflaging clothes. ‘Drab.’ He heard her swift intake of breath. ‘It was because you sashayed into the dining salon looking like sex in heels. You turned every male head and sent the ambient temperature soaring.’
‘Why are you doing this?’ Her voice was ragged, her mouth tight as she skewered him with wide, hurt eyes.
‘Because you don’t believe me.’
‘Of course I don’t believe you! It’s nonsense. The place was littered with beautiful women. You were surrounded by them. What would it matter if I...?’
Her words petered out and abruptly she turned her head away. Instantly, like a switch flicking off, the current of electricity arcing between them died.
‘If you distracted every man in the room?’ Asim didn’t want to think about that but it was too late. He already knew the answer.
Because he wanted her for himself.
He’d felt sick to his stomach when her companion had spent the evening leering at her. Asim knew every man there had imagined tearing that dress away and having her for themselves.
Inexplicably Asim 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 energy crackled through him and delay was impossible.
Seconds later she was high in his arms, held against his chest as he strode through the night. Her hands clasped his neck and even that innocent touch sent rivers of fire rushing through him.
‘Where are we going?’ Her throaty voice was eager, not shocked, and Asim smiled. Only minutes ago she’d doubted her sex appeal. Jacqueline Fletcher was anything but predictable.
He darted a look at her face. That wide-eyed stare made her look almost innocent. To a man used to seasoned lovers, it was refreshing.
‘To a bed.’
Despite the rigid tension screaming through his aroused frame, he almost smiled at her expression: doubt, trepidation and excitement.
‘So far?’ Her brow knitted as she pouted.
Asim stumbled to a halt. She was going to kill him. He wanted to find a flat surface and get her under him. Failing that... His gaze traversed the carved pillars lining the corridor. No. Taking her hard and fast against a wall wouldn’t come close to satisfying his hunger.
‘Unless you’re carrying protection concealed somewhere.’ His gaze dipped to her breasts, wobbling delectably as he strode faster, proud nipples erect beneath the fragile fabric.
His breath was a harsh
scrape of sound as he finally turned into the corridor to his private wing.
‘I can walk. You don’t have to carry me.’
And let her go? Not likely. He wasn’t releasing her till they’d finished what they’d begun. Besides, he enjoyed the feel of her in his arms.
‘There’s no need.’ Ah, there was the door, just ahead.
‘I’m too heavy.’
‘Hardly.’ Asim shouldered the door open and let it swing shut behind them.
‘But I’m so tall.’
He frowned at the discordant note in her words and paused mid-stride. Something was going on in that convoluted, surprising mind of hers that he didn’t understand.
Heavy...
Tall...
‘You’re tall for a woman,’ he said slowly, watching her expression freeze, ‘But that’s good.’ Her brows twitched in surprise. ‘It means we’ll be well-matched in bed.’ His erection throbbed in eager agreement. ‘I’ve been fantasising about those long legs of yours. I want to feel them wrapped around my waist when I’m moving inside you.’
Her mouth popped open in an O of astonishment as if he’d shocked her to the core. Yet she hadn’t been shocked when he’d described his need for her, only eager.
‘As for heavy.’ He shook his head as he crossed the foyer. ‘You’re a lightweight. Even now with a little flesh on your bones you don’t weigh much.’
‘You noticed I’d gained weight?’
Of course he’d noticed. He’d been fixated on her body since that first tantalising revelation.
‘This isn’t my room.’ Her head swivelled.
‘No, it’s mine.’ There was protection in the bedside table and it was beyond him to last out any longer. Already his hands shook, not from carrying her, but from the effort of not ravishing her on the way.
Gently he laid her on the bed, his heart pounding with anticipation. Her dress flared like liquid silver, draping and cupping her delicious body. Already part of his brain was analysing the best way to rid her of it, even as he took a moment to relish the seductive picture she made.