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Sure, he’d told her, but she hadn’t listened. She certainly hadn’t fully believed it, despite the instincts that advised her not to underestimate him. What she’d witnessed in the bottomless depths of his stare had been sheer rage directed at a man who’d had the nerve to proposition her. She certainly didn’t envy being in the spot Will Lloyd had perhaps unknowingly put himself in. Still, witnessing Qasim’s reactions that night was quite an eye-opener. An intriguing one that drew her in, like a moth to flame.
Vectra finished off her mug of tea and moved to pour another from the stout pot sitting on the tray. She was grateful that her hands weren’t shaking quite as much. She had scarcely sipped the second cup when the knock hit the front door.
She stood, indulging in another hasty sip before rushing out to the foyer. She stopped abruptly, exercising caution before she welcomed the unexpected visitor.
“Who is it?”
“Open the door.”
The order, gruffly given in a voice she recognized, galvanized her into movement. Disengaging the locks, she slowly pulled the door open until Qasim filled the entrance and forced the door wide to grant himself admittance. Vectra backed up, the sounds of her house shoes echoing against the foyer’s blush-tinted marble flooring.
“Qasim—”
“Where’s your staff?”
“Gone. I—”
The additional words caught and disintegrated in her throat when Qasim’s hands folded over her hips and he crushed her to the wall of muscle that was his chest. His mouth slammed hard upon hers, and Vectra granted him instant access. Her tongue was at first too stunned to reciprocate the savagely sensual treatment it received from his.
Qasim was unable to stifle his soft moans while his tongue swept the even ridge of her back teeth. Then, he once again tangled his tongue with hers.
There was a break in the kiss. Vectra studied him in disbelief as she swallowed and attempted to steady her breathing. “I thought you said—”
“Forget what I said.” He crushed her mouth beneath his again, drawing her close and swinging her slight form up high against his. One forearm was at her back while the other provided a steely shelf for her bent knees.
Vectra rounded up whatever lingering questions she may’ve had and tossed them as far and deep into the recesses of her mind as she could manage. The questions still mattered, but they took a definite backseat to the fact that Qasim Wilder had at last cast aside the issues that had resulted in keeping them from enjoying what they’d both wanted for some time.
She arched closer, hungering to seal any space separating them. Greedily, her nails threaded through the hair cut close at his nape. The fine, silken strands sparked delightful tingles along her fingertips and beckoned her even closer.
She didn’t care what he tasted in her kiss. She was too desperate—too sex-starved? Perhaps. In that moment, she’d proudly admit it. She’d sealed herself away from the most enjoyable aspects of living for too long. She just hadn’t wanted to deal with the possible headaches. In truth, she’d found no reason that made it worth the true effort to do so.
The physical manifestation of Qasim Wilder was reason enough, and she damn well intended to enjoy every moment.
Qasim had maintained his stance in the foyer, simply treasuring the reality of Vectra in his arms. The past few days that had passed since the party had been literal hell. Kissing her had been a mistake. The fact that he’d done it hadn’t been the mistake. Rather, it was the fact that he’d not done everything in his power to see that it had followed through to its logical and very much desired conclusion.
He’d left her house the other night agitated mentally, sexually and every way in between. Sitting across from her at that meeting tonight it was all he could do not to snatch her up and take what he’d imagined. He’d dreamed of her so incessantly that his sleep lately had been a joke.
Vectra’s faint moan as she lunged and twirled her tongue about his had drained all strength from his legs. His eyelids even felt weighted down by the power of his reaction to her, and he gave thanks then for his eidetic memory.
The almost supernatural ability for vivid imagery recall would suit him well that night. Vectra’s innocently hospitable offer to show him around the upper levels of her home had secured a blueprint of the area in his mind. He retraced each detail of every square foot of the house until he located the room he sought.
Vectra’s bedroom suite was a luscious balance of opulence tempered by simplicity. Golden illumination poured down softly from the recessed lighting and end-table lamps that burned low from various points throughout the sumptuous space. The color scheme of the room was a soothing mixture of gold, coral, plum and rich maple. A gold comforter lay on the king-size bed, which was supported by a maple bed frame. Wide, unlit candles held a stately presence from their perches inside tall, sculpted holders finished in gleaming brass.
