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She braced herself with her hands on his chest. Desire rose up, fast and urgent, replacing the need to be reverent, and Arkim fumbled clumsily with his clothes and body, sheathing himself with protection. Sylvie rose above him, pulling her dress up, eyes glazed with lust, cheeks flushed.
Arkim tore Sylvie’s delicate lace panties off and drew the head of his erection up and down her slick folds, tantalising her, torturing himself, until she was slick and hot. Too impatient to wait, she rose up and took him in her hand, then slowly slid down, taking all of him inside her body. It was so exquisite Arkim had to grit his jaw tightly.
They moved with a kind of slow but languorous intent...rocking, sliding...and when the need became too great Arkim held Sylvie’s hips in place and lost himself inside her, burying his head in her breast, feeling her hands on his head, as his soul flew apart and finally he found the oblivion he was looking for.
* * *
A couple of hours later Sylvie was lying on her side, naked, her hands under her face, watching Arkim’s chest rise and fall. He’d taken her to bed and made love to her again, and the after-shocks of pleasure still pulsed through her body at intermittent intervals. The intensity of the way he’d taken her on the couch still took her breath away. It was as if he’d been consumed with a kind of fury.
His face was in profile to her, showing the proud line of his nose. From here she couldn’t see his injured eye. Sylvie couldn’t help but feel that in spite of the passion with which Arkim had taken her just now something had altered since that confrontation at the hotel.
A cold weight settled in her belly as an ugly reminder reared its head. She’d been meaning to discuss something with Arkim for the past couple of days and had been avoiding it like a coward. Because she was afraid that it would prove to be some kind of a test. A test of where she really fitted into his life.
As his chest rose and fell evenly she envied him his peace, when
her body and brain felt as if they were tying themselves into a million knots. Knowing she wouldn’t rest, Sylvie slipped out of bed and got dressed, going into the living room.
She sat cross-legged on the couch and Omar jumped up into her lap. As she petted him absently and looked into the muted darkness she knew that she had no choice but to talk to Arkim. And after what had happened this evening she knew that he would have no hesitation in letting her go. For good, this time.
* * *
Dawn was breaking outside when Arkim woke. His head was throbbing and he wondered why—until he lifted a hand and winced when it came into contact with his black eye.
Sylvie. Anger jerked him fully awake in an instant. The memory of those men...eating her up with their eyes. And one of them had touched her. He’d seen it. His hands curled into fists just from thinking about it, remembering, his blood pressure increasing.
No woman had ever roused Arkim to the point of wanting to do violence on her behalf. But he’d been ready to take on all those men. His anger had been volcanic. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time...since the day that woman had controlled him for her own amusement and his father had thrown him out like unwanted baggage.
Sylvie. Arkim looked around. He was alone in the room...no sounds were coming from the bathroom. He wanted her even now, even after making love to her like some kind of feral youth on the couch earlier. Damn her. Would he ever not want her?
Not wanting to investigate the way his gut clenched at that prospect, Arkim got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats, feeling as if he’d done about ten rounds in a boxing ring. He frowned as he padded through the apartment, hearing nothing but silence. Not even Omar.
He checked all the rooms and came to the living room last—and finally he saw her. She was standing with her back to the door, looking out of the window. He noticed that she was dressed in jeans and a shirt. There was something tense about the lines of her body that made him stay where he was.
‘You’re dressed.’
The lines of Sylvie’s body got tenser. She turned around slowly. Her hair was pulled into a low bun at the back of her head. She confounded him—she could go from looking like the sexiest movie star goddess to something like this, much more simple and plain, and yet his body reacted the same way every time.
He leaned against the door and crossed his arms, grateful for the fact that his sweats were loose. His susceptibility to this woman was something that still made him feel uncomfortable. Exposed.
Sylvie’s arms were crossed too. ‘There was something I wanted to tell you earlier, but I never got a chance.’
Feeling a flutter of panic, and not liking it, Arkim said, ‘Is it so important it can’t wait till later?’ He stood up straight and held out a hand. ‘Come back to bed...it’s too early for talk.’
Sylvie smiled, but it was touched with something Arkim hadn’t seen in some time. Cynicism.
‘No, it can’t wait...’
Arkim went over to the drinks cabinet and helped himself to a shot of brandy. He saluted Sylvie. ‘Medicinal purposes.’
She paled at that, and Arkim paused with the glass halfway to his mouth. ‘What is it?’
She looked at him, that blue-green gaze unnervingly direct. ‘Pierre has offered me a bigger role in the show.’
The tight ball in Arkim’s gut seemed to ease. That was it? ‘That sounds good.’ So why did she look so serious?
‘It is good... But if I accept it I’ll have to take off my clothes for the first time...like the other girls. Pierre has never pressured me about this before... I told you, he’s been like a father to me. But he says now that if I want to stay I have to start delivering a fuller performance.’
For a second Arkim just heard a roaring in his ears. Images rushed through his head: Sylvie’s pale breasts bared for thousands of people to see... Her perfect body... No wonder her boss wanted to exploit her.
