Royal Families Vs. Historicals. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ to reach him through physical contact since he seemed to have shut her out emotionally. “Now I will. If you like.”

      “What about your great explore?” He didn’t bend at all.

      “I’ve seen a flat just like this one. But this…” She brought her hands around to climb his chest and brush his suit jacket open, nudging it to fall back off his shoulders. “This territory is still new to me.”

      She was trying to be bold, to find the affinity they had shared in Paris, but was highly unsure when he failed to respond. Self-doubt, her great nemesis, twisted through her.

      “I plan to be very thorough in my mapping of it,” she said, voice wavering as she became convinced he was about to reject her.

      “You’re liable to see nothing but this ceiling for the next hour,” he warned, setting aside his glass and clasping her hips in heavy hands.

      “Maybe that’s all you’ll see,” she said with a tremble of relief. “Did you think of that?”

      * * *

      Kasim had almost told her the truth about Jamal. It was a stunning break in his normal vigilance against any woman’s intrusion into his inner world.

      Idly caressing from the back of her thigh over the curve of her buttock to the hollow in the small of her back, he wondered how this smooth golden skin had come to get so far under his own in such a short amount of time.

      He didn’t regard women as a Western indulgence he allowed himself when he traveled, but he did treat his sexual relationships much as he did his business ones. Some were brief transactions, some longer term, but they were exchanges and trades, always agreements with clear parameters. Paramours didn’t cause him to rearrange his life and they rarely stimulated more than his libido.

      This one, however… He had made a ridiculously large transfer this morning so he could protect their privacy, mindful of her request last night to keep the world from cheapening their association.

      Why? What did he care if their association was known or in what context? He would eagerly show her off. The idea of staking a public claim held a great deal of pleasure for him, in fact.

      He very carefully blocked the vision of any other man thumbing into the small dimples at the top of each of her firm, round cheeks, then he lightly traced the line that separated them, fingertips claiming Angelique’s backside along with the rest of her, sweeping the back of her thigh and taking possession of her calf.

      He had grown up watching his father deal with the fallout of indulging unfettered lust. Every person was susceptible to being attracted to the wrong person—or rather, an inconvenient person in relation to the life they led. Giving in to that desire was the root of whatever problems arose.

      Kasim had always regarded himself as superior to his father and brother. He was capable of rising above the temptations that foretold complications.

      Was he kidding himself, believing this thing with Angelique was a trouble-free dalliance that could end tomorrow morning with a light kiss and a “pleasant knowing you”?

      An uncomfortable bolt of rejection shot through him, not just resisting the idea of walking away, but outright refusing to countenance it. His reaction was so visceral, his hand closed in a small squeeze where it rested above the back of her knee. He was literally holding on to her and he’d only thought about the inevitable parting that awaited them.

      It was a sobering confrontation with his inner animal, the one he had always been so sure he governed without effort.

      “I’m awake,” she murmured on a contented sigh, as if she took his grip to be a test of her level of consciousness.

      She turned her head so she could blink dreamy eyes at him while keeping her face mostly buried in her folded arms and the fall of her magnificent hair. “Just thinking. Do you want to meet me in Berlin next weekend? I have a thing.”

      He had places to be, people to rise above.

      “I thought we were staying out of the spotlight.”

      Her sleepy smile slowly warmed to something vulnerable yet elated. It made his heart swerve and swell.

      “I was really asking if you wanted to see me again after tonight.” The tone in her voice caused a pleasant-painful vibration through him.

      He looked at where his hand was still firm on the back of her thigh. “I fear for our lives at the rate we’re going, but I was going to ask you to stay the weekend. I have to escort my mother and sister back to Zhamair on Sunday, but I will arrange to take them back late.” He would also cancel his lunch arrangements for tomorrow with his foreign secretary and the British counterpart.

      “I wasn’t planning to spend the weekend,” she said, last night’s troubled light coming into her eye. Her sister again.

      “No?” He tensed and felt her hamstring flex against his light grip.

      Guilt and longing fought for dominance in her gaze. She released a soft moan of struggle and gave a taut stretch beneath his touch.

      “I will if I can arrange it.” Her tone echoed with something like defeat.

      He began to pet her again, blood tingling as he fondled her with more purpose. He wasn’t used to a woman resisting him. It made him restless for her capitulation. Not something forced. No, he needed her to give herself up to him.

      Rolling her over, he began to kiss her, running his mouth to all the places that made her arch and moan under him, impressing on her the benefit of belonging to him. As he felt the tension in her, the clasp of nearing climax, he kissed his way back up the center of her torso.

      “Tell me what you want.”

      “You know,” she sobbed, moving against his hand, but he followed her undulations, keeping his penetration shallow and light.

      “You want this?” he very slowly and gently deepened his caress, deliberately holding her on the plane of acute pleasure she occupied, not letting her tumble into orgasm. “Or this?”

      He rolled atop her and loved the saw of her breath as she gasped in a sensual agony. Holding himself in a tight fist, fighting back from his own approaching peak, he rubbed his aching tip against her slick folds, nudging at her with promise.

      She danced and angled her hips, trying to capture him.

      He shook with want, barely able to see straight, but made himself hold off and only kiss her. “What will you do for me?”

      “Anything,” she gasped, but opened her eyes. They were shiny with helpless torture, a hint of resentment even. She knew what he was demanding. Her.

      He cupped her head and slowly, slowly sank into her. Their breaths mingled as their bodies joined, both of them parting their lips to release jagged noises of intense pleasure.

      How could she resent this? How?

      He made love to her then, sending her over the edge, then keeping her aroused so they were damned near clawing each other when the next crest approached. He didn’t think he could wait for her, but he wanted her with him. Demanded it with the hard thrust of his hips against her. Needed it.

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