скачать книгу бесплатно
“No, we haven’t. And as I was just saying—”
“We must have. At a party, perhaps?”
“Sorry. I just have that kind of face.”
His gaze moved slowly, almost insolently over her face, lingering on her mouth with such intensity that her heart began to gallop.
“Trust me,” he said softly. “You don’t.”
The surge of the crowd pushed them closer. Madison felt her breasts brush against his chest. Heat raced through her at the contact.
His reaction was far more blatant.
His body hardened.
She felt it, felt that swift male arousal…and felt the shock of an answering curl of desire low in her belly.
Quickly she put out her hands and pressed them against his chest.
“Thank you for your help,” she said brightly.
“Planning an exit, habiba?”
His voice was soft, filled with sexual promise. No, she thought wildly, no, I am not going to do this, not with the rest of my life so perfectly planned.
“I am,” she said in that same artificially bright tone. “He’s gone.”
His smile was wonderful, slow and sexy and completely male. “But he’ll be back.”
“I’m sure he won’t.”
“He will, if he has an ounce of blood in his veins. No man would be fool enough to let you walk away from him.”
“Look, I don’t—I mean, you don’t—” Madison’s gaze slid past the stranger. “Oh, hell,” she said unhappily, “here he comes.”
“Come on.”
The man’s hand—big, hard, powerful—clasped hers.
“Where?”
“Out those doors. See? There’s a patio…or would you rather let the toad catch you?”
The blonde hesitated, but only for an instant.
“All right,” she said, and Tariq hurried her through the crowd, through the French doors, onto the patio.
He knew damned well he could have gotten rid of her pursuer with one look but why do that when he could, instead, bring the woman here, where it was quiet and cool?
He hadn’t come here looking for a night’s diversion but he’d told her the truth. Only a man with no blood in his veins wouldn’t want her. He was going to have her for the night. Hell, for the weekend, and nothing was going to stop him.
The French doors swung open.
The toad stepped outside.
He looked at them and his face lit.
“There you are,” he said. “I’ve been looking everywhere. I never did finish telling you about the place I just bought in Miami—”
Tariq looked at the blonde. She bit her lip, just lightly enough to make him wish he was the one doing the biting.
“Oh, hell,” she whispered.
Tariq felt his blood leap.
“Indeed,” he said softly.
A heartbeat later, he had her in his arms. She looked up at him, eyes wide.
“What are you—”
“I’m making it clear who owns you tonight,” Tariq said thickly, and he bent his head and kissed her.
She gasped. Her breath sighed against his lips. He made a sound deep in his throat and drew her closer.
“Kiss me back,” Tariq whispered.
And she did.
Her lips parted; he slid the tip of his tongue between them, silk meeting silk, heat meeting heat, and the patio faded, the toad faded, nothing existed but the woman in his arms, the feel of her…
“Oh,” she whispered, and he knew it was the same for her.
Her hands rose, flattened against his chest, slipped up and up until her fingers were deep in the thick, silky hair at his nape. She leaned into him, her breasts soft against his chest, her scent in his nostrils.
Tariq groaned.
All the taut sexual control he’d maintained for the past two months fell away. His sex hardened; he felt it leap against her and when she moaned and lifted herself to him, he gathered her closer, deepened the kiss, tasting her, letting her taste him, running his hands down her spine, cupping her bottom, lifting her, bringing her hard against him, cradling the power of his erection in the hot vee of her thighs.
Somehow, they were moving. Off the patio. Into the garden, letting the gathering night close around them, sealing them in its velvet darkness, its sweet floral scent.
The sounds of the party faded; the light spilling from the house diminished. Tariq felt something at his back. The wall of a small building. A summerhouse, screened and secluded, lit by only the softest of lights.
He drew the woman inside; she clung to him, her mouth hot and open to the penetration of his tongue, her breathing as ragged as his, her hands clasping his face as she gave herself over to the wildness of his kiss.
“I want you,” he said thickly.
“Yes,” she whispered, “yes…”
His mouth was at her throat; his hand was on her breast, cupping it, shaping it, his fingertips moving over the engorged nipple that pressed through the silk of her dress and teased his palm.
“You are so beautiful,” he murmured, “so beautiful…”
She slid her hand under his suit jacket, then inside his shirt. Her touch scalded him; he groaned again, grasped the hem of her dress, pushed it up her thighs.
And reached between them.
Skin. Silken and smooth. A strip of lace. Heat. The softness of damp curls…
By Ishtar, he was going to come. He, who never let passion fully sweep him away, who always maintained just enough emotional distance to observe the woman in his arms as he took her…
He was going to come.
But not like this. Damn it, not like this. He wanted to be inside her. Feel her womb close around him. Feel her legs wrap around his waist…
“No!”
Her cry shattered the stillness in the little summerhouse. Tariq raised his head, looked at her through eyes that were all but blind.
“Damn you, get away from me!”
Her fist slammed against his shoulder. It was enough to drag him back toward reality if not fully into it.
“What?” he said. “What?”
“You—you bastard! You no-good son of a—”
Madison slapped both hands against the stranger’s chest, shoved hard. She could feel the panic spreading through her, not of him as much as of herself, at what she had almost done.
“Let go of me,” she said. “Do you hear me? I said—”
“I heard what you said.” His voice was cold. “I’m sure half of Manhattan heard what you said.”
His hands fell away from her. He stepped back but it didn’t mean a damn; she could hear his ragged breathing, smell his maleness. Oh, yes, a predator, and the worst kind. Handsome. Arrogant. Wealthy. He moved in the right circles.
He was everything she despised and somehow, she’d been hovering on the brink of having sex with him. Hovering? Hell, she’d been a kiss away from it. How could that have happened?
A shudder racked her body. “You took advantage of me!”
“I took advantage of you?” he said…and he began to laugh.
She wanted to hit him again, but she was angry, not insane.
“You think this is amusing?”
“What I think,” he said, “is that I probably should thank you for our little encounter. You see, I’ve been searching for something and now I realize it’s going to take longer to find than I thought.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“And, also thanks to you, I just realized how easy—and how unfortunate—it would be should some woman make me give up something I must not give up, except to the right one.”
“Gibberish,” Madison said, folding her arms. “But I don’t care. Whatever you’re talking about means nothing to me.”
“Exactly. And it means everything to…” He paused, frowned, cocked his head. “Of course,” he said softly.
“Of course, what?”
“I just realized why you looked familiar. You’re the ice princess from—what’s that outfit? FutureTense?”
“FutureBorn,” Madison said, “and what would you know about it?”
His cool smile faded. She could almost see his brain rev into high gear.
“Not as much as I’m going to know,” he said cryptically.
“Do you know my boss? If you think you can get me fired—”
He laughed and turned away.
“You can’t,” Madison yelled. “I’m not going to be there long enough for that.”
Tariq didn’t turn around. Whatever she said meant nothing to him.
The toad was still standing on the patio. Tariq flashed a vicious smile. “The lady’s all yours,” he said, and made his way into the house, through the foyer, through the dining and sitting rooms, his purposeful stride attracting curious glances until, at last, he saw his attorney.
Strickland was part of a small knot of people, laughing and chatting.
Tariq stood a few feet away. “Strickland?”
The attorney looked up, saw Tariq and fell silent in midsentence.
“Your highness.”
People turned and stared. Tariq knew the look; it was part respect, part awe, part outright envy.
Ordinarily he loathed it. Now, he welcomed it.
The blonde had made a fool of him tonight but no one else would dare.
Strickland came to his side. “Edward said you were here, your highness. I looked for you, but—”
“I need legal advice.”
The lawyer blinked. “Now?”
“Right now.” Tariq took his cell phone from his pocket, pressed a button and heard, as he had known he would, the voice of his personal physician answering the number that connected him to only this one patient. “Dr. Miller,” he said, with the crisp conviction of a man who never has to ask but has only to command. “I am at my lawyer’s home. Please meet me here in half an hour.”
“Are you ill, sir?” Strickland murmured after Tariq rattled off the address and ended the call.
