‘My bodyguard will have the self-contained unit down stairs,’ he explained, watching the sudden stiffening of her shoulders and wondering what had caused it. ‘And the upper three storeys will be entirely for you…and for me.’
Rose swallowed down the excitement that his words had produced. For the past week—was it only a week? It had seemed like a century in passing—she had thought of nothing else. Tried to imagine the reality of sharing a flat with Khalim, and every time she had failed to make that final leap of faith. To think that they actually would. That he would arrange it all himself. And then bring her here to live with him. Because when she had suggested that she simply visit him on occasional evenings and stay the night, he had swiftly censured her suggestion with arrogant assertion.
‘No!’
‘No?’
His black eyes gleamed. She could fight him on this, but she would not win. Oh, no. ‘I do not want you to bring cases of clothes here, or have one toothbrush here, and another at your flat. You will live here, Rose, with me.’
For how long? her heart wanted her to cry out, but she steeled herself against its plea. She probably only thought she loved him. Wanted him because he was so completely unattainable. She must not place emotional demands on him which he couldn’t possibly meet, because in time it would wear down whatever it was they had between them.
And what was that?
‘Rose?’ He broke into her reverie with a silky question.
Well, now was the time of reckoning, she told herself as he drew her into his arms and lowered his dark, beautiful head to hers. Now they would be able to see what they had between them.
His kiss was fierce and hard and long, whipping her up into a frenzy of need which matched his.
He found himself wanting to rip the little sundress from her body, to lay her down on the floor and impale her there. But there had been little restraint in his physical dealings with her so far. Little desire to show her the mastery of which he was proud.
For he had learned his sexual skills well. His eighteenth birthday present from his cousin had been a trip to Paris, to a hotel which had been the last word in luxury. And there, awaiting him, had been his ‘present’—a stunning redhead in her forties, with a body which most men only dreamed of. A woman of the world, of a certain age. And in the three days and nights which had followed, she had taught him everything there was to know about the act of love.
The most important being, she had purred with satisfaction, the ability to give a woman pleasure.
He looked down into Rose’s milky-pale face, where her sapphire eyes shone out at him like bright stars, and he felt an unrecognisable kick of emotion. He wanted to pleasure his Rose, he realised. To give her more pleasure than she had ever dreamed of. He smiled with the heady anticipation of it.
‘Come and let me show you the bedroom now.’
She took his proffered hand, feeling oddly shy as he took her into a white and blue bedroom which was dominated by a vast bed.
He was watching her carefully. ‘Rose,’ he said, almost gently. ‘Why do you blush?’
She certainly wasn’t going to tell him that his smile had made her feel almost like…She shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all. Like a virgin bride on her wedding night. Who the hell was she kidding?
Oh, I wish, she thought helplessly as he drew her into the circle of his arms. How I wish.
‘Now.’ His voice deepened as he ran his ebony gaze over her. ‘At last.’
He undressed her slowly, and with infinite care, his fingers teasing and tantalising her as they unbuttoned the sundress and then peeled it from her body. And then, as though he had all the time in the world—off came her lacy brassière. And finally, with his fingertips flicking light and teasing movements which thrilled her to the very core—he slowly removed her little lace panties.
‘Now let me look at you,’ he commanded softly.
She should have felt shy in her nakedness, when he still stood so formidably clad in his dark grey suit—but how could she feel anything but pride under that warm look of approval? Instinctively, she lifted her shoulders back and the movement emphasised the lush thrust of her breasts.
He felt the unmistakable wrench of desire. ‘Get into bed,’ he commanded softly. ‘You’re shivering.’
Shivering, yes—but her tremble had nothing whatsoever to do with the cold, but with the tingling sense of expectation which washed over her as he began to unknot his tie.
He unhurriedly slipped his jacket off, and hung it over the back of the chair.
Come on, she thought. Come on!
But if he read the hunger in her eyes he chose to ignore it, his dark gaze not leaving her face as he slowly began to unbutton his shirt.
The shirt joined the jacket on the chair, and he unbuckled his belt before unzipping his trousers.
‘You could strip for a living,’ she told him throatily, unable to keep her thoughts to herself any longer.