And though her pleasure centres were spiralling out of control, she still felt the hurt that laced her heart. “More fool the damsel,” she whispered, hoping the pain in her voice wouldn’t be obvious to him.
But Layth Sati did not miss a thing. He focussed his rapier-like gaze onto her face thoughtfully. “It is not a criticism,” he continued to tease her, making her skin flush and her breathing laboured.
She was beyond speech. He could play her body like an instrument. She was completely at his disposal. He watched as she climaxed; fascinated by the way her eyes fluttered shut, blocking him out from the intimate moment.
Cassie groaned softly, her body weak from the continual assault of pleasure. She pulled away from him, ignoring the pang of reluctance, and stood. Her legs were unsteady and her stomach was churning. She was out of her depth. This man wasn’t like the guys she usually went for. He wasn’t usual at all. She walked shakily away from him; she needed, suddenly, to have some space.
He was following her. It wasn’t that she heard him, nor that she felt him. But somehow, she just knew. He was right behind her.
She bent down for her dress, but he snatched it off the ground first. She whipped around, her eyes bright.
“Allow me.” His voice was rasped. He slipped the dress over her head, so gently that she felt a hit of emotion.
She swallowed it away and cleared her throat. “Thank you.”
His hands ran over her hips, straightening the dress into place.
“Have a meal with me before you go.”
Before you go. Cassie had been about to walk out the door, so why should his statement upset her? She shook her head, on autopilot now.
Her bag. Where did she leave it? She cast about and remembered placing it carelessly on a table in the lounge area.
She brushed past him, ignoring the wave of awareness that caused her stomach to roll. She scooped her bag up and clasped it in her hands, to hide her shaking fingers.
“Cassie.” His voice had the power to send an army of shakes down her spine.
She turned to him, careful to keep any emotion out of her expression.
She came across as haughty, yet he knew she wasn’t. He didn’t know how he could say that with such confidence, given her suddenly untouchable demeanour. It made him ache to shake her. Or to show her how very, very touchable and hot-blooded she was.
“Have dinner.”
“No thank you,” she smiled with a saccharine sweetness.
“Then stay the night. There is much fun yet to be had.”
Her smile was tight. “I don’t think I can take more fun tonight.”
It was no lie. Her insides were quivering with a combination of absolute delight and exhaustion. She curled her fingers around the handle of the door, but he was there first.
Her eyes flared to his. She wasn’t afraid. She’d only met him hours earlier, but she knew she could trust him. She was more surprised than anything. “Just sex, remember,” she reminded herself as much as him.
“I remember.” He was naked. Gloriously, sublimely visible to her in his entirety. “Here is my card. It has my personal number. If you need any more fun … or anything, please call me.”
Cassie had a photographic memory. She wondered if it was something she’d perfected back in her Dark Days. For whatever reason, she had the ability to look at something once and recall it in picture perfect clarity in her mind’s eye. Therefore, she took great care never to look at something unless she knew she wanted to retain the information.
She folded her fingers around the card and nodded. “Good bye.”
He didn’t want to say the words. She was leaving, and it had taken this long for Layth to realise that he didn’t want her to.
And yet he watched her go. He watched her step into the lift, and then he moved to one of the windows that overlooked the street. Several moments later, Cassie emerged, her pale blonde hair blowing behind her in the evening breeze. She was easy to see; his suite was not so high from street level, and Cassie was distinctive. From her impressive figure to those sexy red shoes, she was a woman who stood out in technicolour against a greyscale world. As he watched, she reached her hand out over one of the London’s many garbage cans and dropped something small inside.
And he knew, with a sinking feeling, what it was.
His card.
She’d wanted a single sexual encounter, and she’d got it.
That would be it for them, and Layth told himself that it suited him fine.
3
She’d stayed away for a week.
It had been easy to tell herself that work was busy, demanding client dinners and early starts. And it was true.
But that wasn’t the reason she’d stayed out of her favourite Bond Street bar. She’d kept clear of the fertile hunting ground for eligible men because of one very hot, very sexy stranger.
Even now her stomach lurched at the idea of seeing Layth Sati again. She scanned the bar, her heart in her chest as she searched him out. He wasn’t there.
She told herself the swell in her chest was relief.
It was packed, but then that was the norm for a Friday night. Office workers, ready to unwind after a busy day, were jammed against the bar. Cassie, in a bright green off-the-shoulder dress and a strappy pair of stilettos stood out like a strawberry in a potato box. She glided through the crowds, her eyes focussed on the front.
The usual staff were there. She smiled at Renee, the French barman she’d known for years. When he saw her, he let out a low whistle. “Cass, you’re getting more beautiful each time I see you.”
She grinned back at him. “You’re a charmer.”
“Oui,” he pulled a cocktail shaker from the edge of the bar and began to toss ice and fresh lime into it. “Your week has been busy?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “I’ve hardly even seen Melinda. Lots of late nights for me. And for her.”
“Ah, the divinely unattainable Melinda. You do not bring her here more than twice.”
“No,” she smiled, as she always did in the face of his beautiful accent and slightly incorrect sentence construction. “She doesn’t really share my enthusiasm for … mojitos,” Cassie shrugged.
“Shame,” he shrugged in that very Gallic way, all rolling shoulders and pursed lips. “I should like to see her again.”
“So you keep saying,” Cassie laughed. Melinda might have only come to Wine Underground a couple of times, but she’d clearly made an impression on Renee. “I’ll see what I can do. For you.”
He handed the drink to Cassie and shook his head when she held out a twenty pound note. “First one it be on me.”
“You don’t have to…”
“I know. Think of it as gratitude for the date you are to set up with your beautiful Melinda friend.”
“Oui,” Cassie winked at him. “Though I think it’s dangerously close to a kick back.”
“Are you looking for company tonight?” He changed the subject swiftly.
Renee knew Cassie. He knew that she liked to blow off steam by hooking up with handsome guys who wanted nothing more than a bit of fun flirtation. So he was surprised to see her shrug. “I’m not sure yet.” Her lips lifted into a grin. “I guess I’ll see if there’s anyone tempting enough around.”
Renee’s laugh was a pleasant, soft sound. “You are one of a kind, Cass. Truly unique.”
“Why thank you,” she purred, sitting on a barstool that had just been vacated. Renee moved away, tending to another customer, and Cassie settled in.
Her week had been exhausting. Two new clients looking for complete fit outs for their offices meant she would need to organise several international trips to source artwork. She’d also secured the entire collection of an up and coming Serbian artist, who strongly channelled the works of Matisse.
Melinda had been working overtime, too. As a mid-level agent for the United Nations, her work requirements tended to ebb and flow. Every now and again, they flowed fast. So fast that she barely
slept and ate, as had been the case that week. So it happened that she and Cassie had been like ships in the night, barely spending more than a few moments together to catch up.
It had been in Cassie’s favour.
Melinda had been unable to interrogate her about her night with Layth the week before, and Cassie had been able to keep her dalliance with the handsome stranger to herself. Cassie had no problems with her lifestyle, but she adored Melinda, and the thought of disappointing her – again – sat ill on her shoulders.
It wasn’t that Melinda was judgemental. She was Cassie’s best friend, and for reasons Cassie couldn’t quite comprehend, she always thought Cassie’s sexual adventures were a cry for help. A ridiculous notion, and one that Cassie had poo-pooed so many times she’d lost count.
Despite what Melinda thought, Cassie believed her sexuality had a very simple explanation: She worked hard, and played harder. She didn’t need Melinda to worry about her. In fact, Cassie hated that she did. Cassie, for the most part, had things under control.
Admittedly, her relationship, such as it was, with Antonio, had potentially put both women in danger. He had technically stalked Cassie, yet it had been their home he’d invaded. He had crept about the steps to their flats, waiting for Cassie, and he had trailed both of them when they’d gone for one of their frequent jogs. But not all men were like Antonio. In fact, most weren’t.
Most were thrilled to find a woman who wanted a quick romp and then nothing more. Cassie simply said what most of the men she went for were thinking. Or worse, planning! At least she didn’t hang about like a limpet, waiting to be dismissed.
She thought of Layth Sati again, and his invitation to stay for dinner.
What would have followed? Perhaps more mind-blowing sex? At the hint of the thought, her gut contracted painfully. But then? Uncomfortable waiting – on his part, for her to leave, and on her part, for enough time to pass that she wouldn’t feel rude in doing so.
She shook her head. Far better to have kept that encounter short and sweet. As for his business card at the last minute … a shiver ran down her spine. It was in landfill now. Relegated to the presses of the garbage trade. And she would not think of him again.
A handsome blonde man made eye contact with her. He was in a group of five, all similarly dressed. Nice suits, neat hair. Bankers, she would have guessed. Perhaps estate agents. Something very straight-laced and conservative.
Too conservative for her.
She looked back down at her drink, stirring it absentmindedly. Layth would probably be gone by now anyway. Back to whichever faraway Kingdom he heralded from. His complexion was dark. Darker than Mediterranean. His skin had been the colour of coffee all over, and his eyes had whispered stories of deserts and stars.
She had resisted the urge to google his name.
She’d tossed his card away because she had wanted to put an end to what they’d shared. What good could come from knowing that he was a … a what? What was he?
Not an athlete. Though he possessed the physique of a man who devoted his life to physical pursuits, he was too cultured. Too powerful. Though that was a generalisation, she knew. It was almost impossible to describe. She simply couldn’t see him taking orders from anyone.
Blondie was moving towards her. She sensed him, and caught a hint of his fair complexion in her peripheral vision. How wan he was, compared to her vivid memories of Layth. How sagging his shoulders and sallow his complexion!
She blinked in his direction, and then coldly gazed past him. It was a gesture intended to discourage, but it did not succeed. Evidently, having discovered the courage to approach her, blondie was not going to be dissuaded so easily.
Usually, that would be a mark in a man’s favour. Persistence and confidence were qualities Cassie admired. But she wasn’t in the mood to give someone an opportunity to interest her.
Layth hadn’t needed an opportunity.
He’d seen something he wanted – someone who wanted him – and he’d gone after her with single-minded obsession.
Her eyes drifted to the wall that he’d pinned her against and her heart skittered painfully in her chest. Her very breath seemed to burn her lungs.
She sipped her drink in an attempt to cool down. It didn’t help.
“Hi.” The blonde man said. “I’m Colin.”
Colin, ugh. Even his name was bland compared to Layth Sati.
Her smile was automatic. It didn’t glow with warmth, but it was at least polite.
“I’m Cassie.”
“I’d offer to buy you a drink, but you already have one,” he nudged an elbow towards the bar, effectively screening her from the man beside her.
Her tone was droll. “Your powers of observation are truly impressive.”
He laughed, and shook his head. She supposed it was sort of a charming gesture. “Come on, give me a break. I’m nervous.”
“You are?” She was just having a conversation. She didn’t have to go anywhere with him. She could chat to a guy and just have fun. “Tell me, why would you be nervous?”
“I just broke up with my fiancé. Actually,” his laugh was self-deprecating, “She dumped me.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassie murmured. She sipped her mojito again. It made a sound and she stared at the glass. It was empty. She replaced it on the bar and tried to catch Renee’s eye. He was down the other end, chatting to another woman Cassie recognised as a regular.
“So let me top your drink up to cheer myself up.”
“How would buying me a drink make you feel better?”
He leaned closer, so that he could whisper in her ear. His breath smelled of peanuts and whisky. “See those guys down there?” Her eyes drifted down the bar. “I work with them. They’ve brought me out to show me a good time, which in their books, means chatting to a woman like you.” He grinned. “If I crash and burn with you, they’ll keep me out all night. And what I really want is to have another drink then get home to my bed, book and cat.”
She burst out laughing, and shook her head. “That is just about the saddest story I’ve ever heard.”
“Does it buy me your company for a drink?”
She was still laughing. “Why not?”
One of the other bar staff moved their way and Colin ordered a scotch for himself and a mojito for Cassie. Scotch was the wrong drink though, because it instantly reminded her of Layth. As if she needed something so ordinary as the way a drink smelled to make her think of Layth.
Who was she kidding? She’d barely been able to stop thinking of him all week. Yes, she’d been busy as all hell, but he’d been there in the back of her mind. In her dreams, and in her blood.
“Why’d your fiancé dump you?”
“Geez, talk about going for the jugular.”
“You brought it up. Would you rather not speak about it?” Cassie’s lips were distracting as they formed a circlet around the straw.
He shrugged. “I don’t know. She said she didn’t love me anymore.”
Cassie winced in sympathy. “Brutal.”
“Yes.”
“Do you still love her?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m truly sorry for you.”
He threw his scotch back in one sip. Cassie watched as his Adams apple knotted. “Shit happens. Whatcha gonna do?”
“I’d say you could fight for her, but I don’t think that’s the right approach.”
“You don’t think love’s worth fighting for?”
“Love, perhaps. Love being made difficult by external forces. Not love that’s no longer there.”
“You have a way with words,” he grinned. “In that you really don’t pull any punches.”
“I’m sorry,” and she was. “I guess I’m not the kind of girl who believes in undying romances. I think it’s plausible that what you and your fiancé shared just … went away. For her at least. Maybe she’s got different ideas of love. Different ideas of permanence.”
“Apparently you’re right.”
>
“Is there someone else in the picture?”
“No. Not that I know of.” His lips tugged into a frown. “Thanks for that. It hadn’t even occurred to me to wonder if she was having an affair.”
“Wow, you really do love her,” Cassie murmured, wondering what that kind of slaving devotion must be like. Not, perhaps to be the one doing the loving, but to be loved and trusted so implicitly. She shook her head. It would be a recipe for disaster. For anyone.
One look at this man’s lovelorn face convinced her of that.
“You’re better rid of her anyway.”
“You don’t even know her.”
“I don’t need to.” She tapped his glass and nodded at Renee. The French man topped it up and took Cassie’s payment.
“Thanks. I guess the cat can wait one more Scotch.”
“Your friends are looking over. I think they’re convinced.”
But Colin’s friends, increasingly inebriated and loud, were not the only eyes surreptitiously studying the two fair heads bent close together in conversation. At the other end of the bar, far from Cassie’s gaze, a pair of jet black eyes were fixed to her with a possessive heat.
He’d told himself he’d forget about her.
All the more so if she went home with someone else.
But now that he’d seen her again, he knew forgetting about her wasn’t going to be possible.
She wasn’t out of his system yet. She would be. But not yet.
She laughed at something the man said, and her hand – the beautiful hand that had wrapped itself around his length – pressed to his chest.
Layth’s eyes narrowed. He was waiting. Watching. And wondering just how long it would be before he could claim her again.
Cassie stood, her dress sculpting her body like a second skin. It was short, and showed off the expanse of tanned, slender legs. It was also cut low at the back, revealing that she wasn’t wearing a bra.
Layth groaned as he remembered the weight and roundness of her breasts. He had waited long enough.
He cut through the bar easily, his eyes never wavering from his goal.
Cassie still hadn’t seen him. She was rifling through her bag, searching for something. He slowed his pace, curiosity giving him a little extra patience. He watched as she lifted the phone, read the number and then frowned. Her finger came down on the button decisively, cutting the caller off. She returned the phone to the glittering clutch and then looked up. Right into his eyes.
Clare Connelly Pairs: Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane Page 3