A Whisper of Disgrace. Sharon Kendrick

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СКАЧАТЬ move. She could feel the smooth, cold metal sliding against her bare thigh. The alcohol was relaxing her and the hypnotic beat of the music began to suck her in. And suddenly it was easy. Easy to lose herself in the sensual sway of the music and forget about her own particular heartache. Her movements seemed instinctive—as if she had been born to dance this way. As if rubbing her body against a static piece of metal was the only way to go. Closing her eyes, she raised her leg even higher and tipped her head back, so that she could feel her long hair brushing against the floor. She began to grind her hips in slow and sensuous circles against the pole and, inexplicably, could feel the slow burning heat of excitement deep in her groin.

      Through her dreamy reverie she could hear other sounds. A loud, whooping noise as she slid up and down in time to the music. The unrestrained clamour of male voices shouting enthusiastically as she clutched the pole and writhed against it. But Rosa didn’t care who was shouting—she just kept her eyes tightly closed and gave the dance everything she’d got. It was the most cathartic thing she’d ever done and it wasn’t until the music had stopped that she opened her eyes to find that a large crowd of men had gathered at the front of the stage to watch her.

      For a moment she blinked at them, feeling like a prize exhibit being paraded in a foreign zoo. She found herself expecting to see the furious faces of her brothers.

      Correction. Her half-brothers—but they were hundreds of miles away.

      She straightened up and flicked her gaze over the assembled men, wondering how she was going to be able to make her way through them without pushing. Lots of them had their shirts open to the waist and their chests looked all sweaty. She didn’t want to touch them. She shuddered. She didn’t want anything to do with them. All she wanted was another drink, because the aching in her heart was starting to return and a drink seemed the only way to numb it. She bent to pick up the bottle, when she felt the whisper of fingertips on her arm and, straightening up, she found herself staring into the blackest pair of eyes she had ever seen.

      It was the man from the opposite side of the club. The one who’d been staring at her. Who up until ten minutes ago had been the object of some beautiful woman’s attention. She tried to focus her gaze to look at him properly, and as his image blurred and then sharpened again, she thought that she’d never seen a man like this before. Standing up close to his hard body and staring up into his hawk-nosed face, Rosa could suddenly understand why that woman had been draping herself all over him. He seemed larger than life—as if he was composed of some dark, elemental force which dominated the entire room. His black eyes glittered—as if a fire was smouldering behind those long lashes—and his lips were full and sensual.

      But he frowned as he glanced at the clamouring throng of men. ‘You look to me like someone in urgent need of rescuing,’ he said, in an exotic accent she didn’t recognise.

      The old Rosa might have been intimidated by such a man—that’s if she had ever been allowed to get within six feet of him by her overprotective family. But this new and tipsy Rosa was feeling no such thing as intimidation. Instead she looked into his eyes and felt an undeniable excitement—as if she had just found something she hadn’t expected to find. Something she hadn’t even realised she’d been looking for. ‘And you’re just the one to do it, I suppose?’

      ‘I’m the perfect candidate for any kind of rescue mission, my beauty. Be assured of that.’

      Trying to dampen down the excitement which was fizzing through her veins, she looked around her in mock surprise. ‘But I can’t see your white horse anywhere.’

      ‘That’s because I always ride a black stallion, although never in France. He’s big and he’s powerful and he’s not particularly partial to nightclubs.’ His eyes were gleaming as they gazed at her. ‘Unlike a woman who doesn’t seem to realise what havoc she was creating when she performed that incredibly sexy dance a few moments ago and nearly had the whole place in meltdown.’

      Rosa’s smile became a little glassy, aware that the level of flirtation was escalating by the second. And she was feeling more than a little daunted by it because this kind of thing was way outside her experience. Even during her university days in Palermo, the men she’d fancied had steered clear of her when they’d discovered who she was. Because what man in their right mind would get involved with a Corretti woman, a woman they wouldn’t dare touch for fear that one of her brothers or cousins would come after them?

      She’d never met anyone who hadn’t been intimidated by the reputation of her powerful family and she wouldn’t have been allowed anywhere near a man like this. A man who was sizzling out so much sex appeal that she wondered if her fingers might burn if she reached out and touched him.

      She knew that the sensible thing to do would be to turn around and walk away. To go back to the hotel she’d booked into and sleep off the champagne. She would wake up in the morning—probably with a splitting headache—and decide what she was going to do with the rest of her life.

      But Rosa wasn’t feeling sensible. She was feeling...defiant. Because defiance was easier to deal with than heartbreak and loneliness, wasn’t it? Defiance made you feel alive, instead of flat and empty and wondering just where your life was going. ‘I don’t want to be rescued,’ she said, a touch petulantly as she took another swig of champagne. ‘I want to dance.’

      ‘Now that,’ he said steadily as he removed the bottle from her hand and handed it to someone standing nearby, who accepted it without comment, ‘can also be arranged.’

      He took her hand and led her towards the dance floor and Rosa was aware of a sudden and heady sense of danger as he took her into his arms and the music began to throb out a sultry beat. He was so tall, she thought—taller than any other man she’d ever seen. And his body felt so strong. She licked her dry lips. A woman wouldn’t stand a chance against a man like this. The thought thrilled her, rather than scared her as she knew it should have done. ‘I don’t even know your name,’ she shouted.

      ‘That’s because I haven’t told you.’

      ‘And are you going to tell me?’

      ‘I might—if you’re very good.’

      Recklessly, she said, ‘And if I’m not?’

      He didn’t miss a beat. ‘In that case, I will definitely tell you—because there is nothing I like better than a woman who isn’t good. My name is Kulal.’

      She tried saying it. Rounding her lips she sounded out the first syllable and then, letting her tongue touch the upper palate, she murmured the second. ‘Ku-lal.’

      ‘Mmm. I like the way you say it. It sounds very sexy on your lips.’

      Rosa giggled. ‘Stop it!’

      With a sudden hard beat of lust, Kulal pulled her closer and felt her melt against him, as if she’d been waiting all night to have him do that. And wasn’t it like that for him? Hadn’t his senses been ignited from the moment he’d set eyes on her and seen those soft lips parting with a look of innocent wonder, which certainly didn’t match the sinful splendour of her voluptuous body? He could feel the way her breasts were pushing against his chest and he sucked in a breath of longing as he dipped his mouth to her ear. ‘Now let’s see if you can dance as well on the floor as you did on the podium, shall we, my beauty?’

      The slick words which flowed from his lips were warning Rosa to be careful. Because there was a reason for the expression ‘paying’ someone a compliment—her ruthless family had taught her that. You told a woman she was pretty and she would put out for you—wasn’t that how it worked? Hadn’t she СКАЧАТЬ