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‘No.’
Across the candlelit table, their eyes met. ‘Perhaps some fresh air might give us a little appetite.’
Isobel blinked at him in bewilderment. ‘You want to go for a walk?’
His smile was wry. He’d forgotten that she had every right to be naïve, for she knew nothing of the games that lovers played…‘Only as far as the car. I thought we could go to my apartment. There’s plenty of food there.’
Isobel’s heart began to pound as his lazy suggestion shimmered into the space between them. She hadn’t thought a lot beyond the meal itself. Somehow she had imagined that she might be going home alone to her little flat, as if the whole…sex…thing had been nothing but a distant dream. She’d told herself that would be the best for both of them, even if her commitment to the idea had been less than whole-hearted.
But then Tariq had opened up to her, taking her into his confidence. It had felt almost as intimate as when he’d been driving into her body. How could she possibly go home alone when she thought about the alternative he was offering her?
He was gesturing for the bill, seeming to take her silence for acquiescence, and the waiter was coming over to their table, his face creased in an anxious frown.
‘You no like the food?’ he questioned.
‘The food is delicious,’ Tariq replied, giving Isobel’s hand a quick squeeze. ‘I just find my partner’s beauty rather distracting. So we’ll just have the bill, please.’
Isobel saw the man-to-man look which passed between Tariq and the waiter, and for a moment she felt betrayed. Suddenly she had become someone else—not the woman who’d been frequenting this place for years, but someone dining with a man who was clearly way out of her league.
The waiter moved away, and Isobel tried to wriggle her fingers free. But Tariq wasn’t having any of it.
‘What’s the matter, Izzy?’
‘Just because you want to go to bed with me, it doesn’t mean you have to tell lies!’
‘Lies?’ he questioned, perplexed.
‘I am not beautiful,’ she insisted.
‘Oh, but you are,’ he said unexpectedly, and then he did let go of her hand. Instead, he moved to cup her chin, running the tip of his thumb over it. ‘Tonight you look very beautiful, sitting there, bathed in candlelight. I like your hair loose. I even like your eyes flashing with defiance. In fact, I can’t quite remember ever seeing a woman look quite as desirable as you do right now, and it’s making me ache for you. And you feel exactly the same, don’t you?’
‘Tariq!’
‘Don’t you?’
She met the mocking gleam in his ebony eyes. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘So pick up your handbag and let’s get out of here—before I do something really crazy like hauling you to your feet and kissing you in front of the entire restaurant. Now, that really would provide fodder for the tabloids.’
She was trembling with anticipation as they went outside, where Tariq’s chauffeur-driven car was sitting purring by the kerb. Climbing into its sumptuous interior, she waited for him to pull her into his arms. To kiss her as she so badly wanted to be kissed.
But he didn’t. In fact he slid his body as far away from her as possible, and when he saw her turn her head he must have read the disappointed expression in her eyes because he shook his head.
‘No, Izzy,’ he said sternly. ‘Not here and not now. I think we have demonstrated the wilder side of passion, and I think I’ve made it clear that once I start touching you all bets seem to be off. Tonight we will have the slow burn of anticipation and I will show you just how pleasurable that can be.’
Even when they reached his apartment he simply laced his fingers in hers and led her along the long corridor to his bedroom. Once there, with dexterous efficiency, he began to slide the clothes from her body. Only this time he hung her black silky dress over the back of a chair and did not tear off her panties.
When at last she was stripped bare, he peeled back the silken throw which covered his bed and laid her down on it.
‘I want to see you naked,’ he murmured appraisingly, as his gaze travelled slowly down the length of her body.
She watched as he undressed, the breath dying in her throat. His body was taut and magnificent—and he made no attempt to hide the heavy length of his arousal. But when at last he was completely naked, and maybe because he felt the trembling of her body, he frowned.
Smoothing back the cascade of Titian curls, he looked deep into her eyes. ‘You are nervous?’
‘A little.’
‘But there is no reason to be, habiba.’ He brushed his mouth over hers. ‘For tonight there will be no pain—only endless pleasure.’
She gave herself up to his kiss at last, glad to lose herself in its seductive power. And grateful, too, for the clamour of her senses, which responded instantly to his expert touch and drove all nagging thoughts from her mind.
It was only afterwards that they came back to haunt her. When all passion was spent and they were lying there, Tariq’s hand splayed possessively over the damp fuzz of curls at her thighs and her head slumped against his shoulder.
No pain, he had said—only pleasure.
But he had been talking about the physical pain of having surrendered her virginity to him. Not the infinitely more powerful pain she suspected might be about to be inflicted on her heart.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_7865010b-5f52-5a5f-ae9d-d49f75ea3876)
THE office door clicked quietly shut, and Tariq’s distinctively soft voice whispered over Isobel’s senses.
‘So what has it been like without me, kalila? Did the office grind to a halt without me? More importantly…did you miss your Sheikh while he was away?’
Isobel looked up from her work, trying to steel herself against the impact of seeing Tariq for the first time in almost a week. Having to fight back the urge to do something stupid—like leaping up and throwing herself into his arms.
He’d been to New York on business, and along the way had taken delivery of a new transatlantic jet. He’d also announced the expansion of the Al Hakam Bank in Singapore, but was still refusing to confirm reports that he was in the process of buying the famous ‘Blues’ football team. Consequently, his face had been pictured on the front pages of the financial press—and Isobel had secretly pored over them whenever she had a spare moment. It had felt slightly peculiar to look at the hard and handsome face which stared back at her amid the newsprint. And to realise that the man with the hawk-like features and noble lineage was actually her lover.
Now he leaned over her desk, a vision of alpha-sex-iness in a dark grey suit and pristine white shirt. His olive skin made him look as if he had been cast in gold, and his black eyes gleamed as they surveyed her questioningly.
‘Tariq,’ she said slowly, laying down her pen and putting the churned up feeling in her stomach down to his tantalising proximity. ‘You know perfectly well that the office always runs smoothly in your absence. In fact, there’s a quiet air of calm around the place. People are that bit more relaxed when the big boss isn’t around.’
He gave a slow smile as he loosened his tie and dropped it in front of her like a calling card. She sounded as unruffled as she always did when she spoke to him in the office—her cool air of composure barely slipping. Why, nobody would guess that the last time they’d seen each other she had been giving him oral sex in the back of his darkened limousine. Demonstrating yet another new-found sexual skill which she seemed to have adopted with her usual dexterity.
And he had reciprocated by sliding his fingers beneath her skirt and bringing her to a shuddering orgasm just moments before he’d left the car to catch his flight to JFK.
Yet to look at her now she seemed light-years away from his fevered and erotic memory of her. She looked restrained and efficient—almost prim.
To Tariq’s surprise, any fears he’d had that she would become cloying or demanding had not been realised. Despite being such a sexual novice, Izzy seemed to have no problems juggling her dual roles as his lover and PA, and was as discreet as anyone in his position could have wished for.
He frowned. The only downside was that she seemed to be getting underneath his skin in a way he hadn’t anticipated. By now he should have been growing a little bored with her—because that was his pattern. Once the gloss of new sex had worn off, predictability tended to set in—and three weeks was usually long enough for him to begin to find out things about a woman which irritated him.
But Izzy was different, and he wasn’t quite sure why. Might it be because she knew him better than almost anyone? Working so closely with him over the years had given her glimpses of the private person that he would never have allowed another to see. Sometimes it felt as though she had already stripped away several layers to see the man who lay beneath. Was that what gave sex with her its extra dimension of closeness? Or was it just the fearless way she responded to him? The way she looked straight into his eyes while he was deep inside her? As if she wanted to see into his soul with those big tawny eyes of hers. Sometimes it unsettled him and sometimes it did not—but it always excited him.
He watched as she picked up his discarded tie and began to roll it into a neat silken coil. ‘So, did you miss me?’ he repeated.
Isobel put the tie down and looked at him. What would he do if she told him that she always missed him? That she wished she could suddenly become one of his ties, so that she could wrap herself round his neck all day and stay there? He would run a million miles away—that was what he would do. Declarations of adoration were not what Tariq wanted, but she could see perfectly well from his darkening eyes just what he did want.
She rose from her desk and walked towards him, aware of his gaze on her and conscious of the fact that her thighs were bare above her stocking tops. She’d dressed with deliberate daring for the office this morning, knowing that he was bound to want her as soon as he arrived—and determined to feed into the fantasies he had assured her on the phone last night had been building all week.
She might be new to all this, but some survival instinct had made her turn herself into the best lover she could possibly be. Because wasn’t that her default method? To do something to the best of her ability? Didn’t that usually mean security? If you became so good at something then you wouldn’t be replaced.
Only this wasn’t a new job, or a new project which was going to enhance her life. This was all about a relationship—it was strange new territory. Her mother’s often repeated warnings still came to her from time to time, but how could she take them seriously when she was looking into the glittering hunger of Tariq’s black eyes and feeling the lurch of her heart in response?
‘Of course I’ve missed you,’ she said softly.
‘How much, on a scale of one to ten?’
‘Well…’ She pretended to think about it. ‘How about seven?’
‘Seven?’
‘Eight, then. Nine! Tariq! Okay—ten!’
‘You’re wearing stockings,’ he breathed in disbelief.
‘Well, you’ve nagged me often enough about my tights.’
‘With good reason. Let me see.’ He lifted up her skirt and expelled a small appraising sigh. The tops of the dark silk stockings had been embroidered with deep turquoise and green, so that it looked as if some peacock had wrapped its feathers enticingly around her thighs and left them there. ‘You know that there are consequences to dressing like that?’ he questioned unsteadily.
‘What kind of consequences might they be?’
‘Can’t you guess?’ he breathed, as he placed her hand on the fly of his trousers.
‘T-Tariq.’
‘I want you, Izzy.’
‘You always want me,’ she whispered back, her fingertips caressing the thick, hard shaft.
He swallowed. ‘And is it mutual?’
‘You know it is.’
He caught her by the shoulders and looked down into her widened tawny eyes. ‘Then why don’t you show me how much you’ve missed me?’ he questioned unsteadily. ‘Because I have missed you too, kalila.’
She savoured his unsteady words as she rose up on tiptoe to kiss him, revelling in the sheer pleasure of being in his arms again. She closed her eyes as his practised fingers began to reacquaint themselves with her body. At times like this, when he could reduce her to boneless longing within seconds, it was easy to imagine that a unique bond existed between them. Was that because they seemed to have the ability to anticipate each other’s needs—despite the disparity of their experience—or was it because they simply knew each other so well?
Or was it something far more commonplace? He’d told her candidly that making love without having to wear a condom was the biggest turn-on he’d ever known. For him, that was a brand-new experience, and that was rare enough to excite a man who’d been having sex since he was a teenager. She’d tried telling herself that Tariq’s reaction to her was purely physical. Because if she looked the truth straight in the face then surely there was less likelihood of her getting hurt?
If only her own feelings were as straightforward. If only she hadn’t started to care. Really care. She wondered if it was normal for a woman to become a little more emotionally vulnerable every time her man made love to her. For her to start wanting things she knew she wasn’t supposed to want—things he’d specifically warned her against? Things that Tariq was renowned for never delivering—and especially to a woman like her. Stuff like commitment and happy-ever-after.
‘Izzy?’
She closed her eyes, letting go of the last of her troubled thoughts, allowing pure and delicious sensation to take over instead. ‘Yes,’ she whispered, as he pushed her down onto the floor and sank down beside her. ‘Oh, yes.’
His fingers were on her flesh now, stroking open the moist and heated flesh at the very core of her, and he was saying, ‘Luloah…’ softly and fervently beneath his breath, something which Isobel had learnt meant ‘pearl’ in his native tongue.
‘You taste of honey,’ he said on a shuddered breath, his mouth high on her thigh.
‘Tariq—’ His tongue had reached the most sensitive part of her anatomy, and Isobel gave a little gasp of pleasure as she felt its delicate flick. Glancing down, she could see the erotic image of her boss’s black head between her legs, and the sheer intimacy of it only increased the sensations which were beginning to ripple through her.
Her head fell back as an unstoppable heat began to build, and she trembled on the brink as he teased her with his tongue.
‘Tariq,’ she gasped again, clutching at his shoulders, her fingers biting into him.
‘What?’ he drawled against her heated flesh.
Tariq, I think I’m falling in love with you!
But her passionate thoughts dissolved as a feeling of intense pleasure washed over her—strong enough to sweep away everything else in its wake. Wave after wave of it racked her trembling body—and just when she thought it couldn’t get any better he thrust deep inside her.
‘You feel so good,’ he said unsteadily.
‘So…do you.’
He thrust even deeper, his breaths becoming long and shuddering. ‘And I’ve been wanting to do this to you all week.’
She heard his voice change and felt his body tense, watched him splinter with his own pleasure. She loved the helplessness of his orgasm, feeling in those few heightened moments of sensation that he was really hers.
Afterwards, they lay wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, until Isobel lifted her head to free some of the hair which was trapped beneath his elbow.
‘You know, we’re going to have to stop meeting like this,’ she murmured.
Tariq laughed, drawing his fingers through the spill of her curls and marvelling at how uncomplicated all this seemed. His mouth settled into a curve of satisfaction. He could walk in from a trip and within minutes have her writhing and compliant in his arms. There were no demands made, nor questions asked. What could be better than that?
‘I think this is a very good place to meet.’ He yawned. ‘You’ve brought a whole new meaning to the expression “job satisfaction”.’
But Isobel wasn’t really listening. Now that her euphoric state had begun to evaporate she was remembering what she’d been thinking at the height of their lovemaking. About loving him.
She stared at the ceiling, her heart beginning to pound with fear. Love? Surely she wasn’t crazy enough to waste an emotion like that on a man who very definitely didn’t want it? Who had explicitly warned her against it? And hadn’t her mother done the very same? She’d managed to convince her daughter that love was rare—and Isobel knew it was an impossibility to expect it from a seasoned playboy who shied away from commitment.
Uncomfortably, she wriggled, wanting to get away, to try and soothe her confused thoughts into some kind of order. ‘Tariq, we can’t lie here all day.’
‘Why not? We can do anything we like.’ He touched his lips to hers. ‘I am the boss.’
She pulled away from him—but not before he had caught hold of her, his eyes narrowed. ‘Something is wrong, kalila?’ he queried softly. ‘You are angry with me because we have had yet another fumble on the floor of the office?’
Isobel smiled. ‘I can hardly blame you for wanting instant sex when I was a willing participant. I just happen to know that there’s a whole pile of things which need your attention. And we are supposed to be working.’
Yawning, he rose to his feet and held out a hand. ‘By the way—I’ve brought you a present from New York,’ he said as he pulled to her feet.
‘Oh?’ She felt her heart skip a beat. ‘It’s not my birthday.’
“That’s a little disingenuous of you, Izzy.’ Walking over to his briefcase, he slanted her a lazy smile as he withdrew a slim leather case. ‘Don’t you like presents?’
She wasn’t sure—her feelings were pretty mixed when it came to presents from Tariq. She wanted to be the first and only woman he’d ever bought a gift for. Not to feel as if she was just one in a long line of women who smiled their acceptance of whatever glittering trinket he had bought them. But she was. That was exactly what she was.
She wanted to tell him that she didn’t need presents. Because she knew him too well and she knew how he operated. Her counterpart in New York had probably been dispatched to choose something for her—just as she had chosen such gifts for his lovers many times before. She had probably even consulted him to find out what the budget for such a gift should be.
