Olivia froze. Only sex? There was no such thing.
She had to be strong. It was imperative.
“I want only this,” he murmured, lifting her shirt so that he could touch her flat stomach. She moaned softly as his hands crept upwards, to cup her breasts. Her nipples were taut against the lace fabric of her bra and he teased them with his fingers. He moved one hand to hers, and guided it to touch his rock-hard arousal. “And this,” he moved his hips and felt her shudder again.
He spun her in his arms, so that she was facing him, and he pressed his body firmly to hers, so that she could feel what his pleasure would be like. Her lips were parted, her pupils enormous in her face. He took her mouth with his, kissing her passionately and desperately. His intensity was a plea; he knew she could make him forget. He was begging her to.
He pushed at her shirt and it came apart, revealing her beautiful breasts, held firm by the fabric bra, and his ache for her grew.
Olivia was drowning in a sea of desire; it was churning her and making her forget everything she should feel and do. She kissed him back, because in that moment it was what she wanted more than anything in the world. Her hands, though, had other ideas and they tangled in his hair, and curled around his neck.
He began to unzip her pants, and it was then that Olivia froze. This was completely wrong. If she didn’t press pause on what was happening, it would be too late. Both of them would be lost to the swarming hive of sensation. She stepped away from him, shaking with lust and panic.
“I’m not …” she pressed her hands into her hips, but his eyes were drawn to the roundness of her curves and she regretted it instantly. Her shirt was across the room. She walked to it quickly and pulled it on roughly. It messed her hair.
Zamir was watching without reacting, and that only angered Olivia more. “I’m a personal concierge. Not a hooker.” She straightened her spine and sent him what she hoped was her most withering look. “Of course, if you want to have meaningless sex with someone you don’t know, I’d be happy to find an escort for you.” She moved past him with as much dignity as she could muster.
Zamir, for the first time in his life, was being rejected. And it set off an prickling sense of shame in him.
“Olivia,” his voice was a harsh command. She stopped walking and looked at him, but mutiny was writ large on her face. Hurt glowed in her eyes.
He felt anger, and it was all directed at himself. “I shouldn’t have done that.” He grimaced. “I was rude and inappropriate. It won’t happen again.”
Regret was unmistakable. She forced a small smile to her face but it was obviously a mask. “Fine. It’s fine.” Her heart was still pounding.
“No, it’s not. I was going to use your utterly delightful body to forget my problems, and believe me, I wouldn’t have cared that I was using you if you had acquiesced.”
Coldness spread through her veins like ice on a lake. “Do you do that often, then?” She pushed the question back on him.
“Not really.” He wasn’t childish enough to tell her it wasn’t her business. For it was, now. He’d inadvertently given her access to more of his private life than he’d intended to share.
“So you’re saying I’m the first woman you’ve propositioned for sex in the middle of the night?”
His laugh was soft. “In a manner of speaking.” His eyes drifted down her body and then lifted back to her face.
And Olivia knew why. People, men particularly, took one look at her and jumped to all the wrong conclusions. She had the misfortune of having been built like a playboy centrefold, and she had an outgoing nature. Therefore, she had to be a slut with a capital S. Only Olivia wasn’t. She’d always drawn the wrong kind of guy. Men who obviously wanted her body and didn’t much care for what was in her mind. As a result, she’d never got beyond a first date with any of them.
As for sex? Forget about it. Looking like a sex object made her loathe to become one. What would Zamir Fayez say if she revealed that she was a virgin at twenty four? Needless to say, he’d back away from her faster than he could say, No way in hell.
Why had he done it?
She knew there was something going on with him. The mystery visit to the desert facility had obviously upset him. What was going on? What was he keeping private?
It was definitely not her place to ask. And yet, it certainly wasn’t his place to kiss her and touch her as he had. “Sir…”
“Do you not think you might call me Zamir now?” He prompted with a mocking glint in his eyes.
“I …”
“You have touched my dick. I have felt your breasts. Please. Call me Zamir.”
“God,” she closed her eyes at his crude yet accurate assessment. “Don’t.”
He laughed. For reasons he didn’t begin to understand, he liked that he had shocked her.
The question she’d been about to ask died on her lips. How could she ask what it was that haunted his nights when he spoke to her like that? “Did you need anything else, sir?”
Zamir was very still. She wasn’t going to forgive him. And he couldn’t blame her. He was being deliberately crude. He was all over the place; his behaviour was beneath him.