AllFreeNovel
Share Us
‘Because it’s a bad idea,’ she prevaricated.
‘Stop fighting it, Tamsyn. You know you want to dance with me,’ he said with silky perception, his hand moving to the small of her back as he propelled her gently towards the dance floor.
Even then she might have stopped him had Tamsyn not glanced up at the dais and seen the newly married Sheikh looking down on them, with what looked like bemusement in his eyes. Was he surprised she was planning to dance with such an honoured guest as his rich pal? She knew Kulal didn’t like her, just as she didn’t like him. In fact, they’d had an almighty row before the wedding when he’d turned up on her sister’s doorstep. But you had to let bygones be bygones, especially now that he was her new brother-in-law.
So why not show the Sheikh she could behave with dignity—and prove to herself that she wasn’t a total social misfit? Why shouldn’t she dance with the best-looking man in the room? With a resolute nod of her head, she allowed Xan to lead
her onto the ballroom, pleased there were enough people to ensure they could just blend into the crowd. Just one dance, she told herself. One dance to fulfil her obligations and she could be off.
But life never quite conformed the way you wanted it to. One dance became two, which then somehow morphed into three, and each dance seemed to propel them closer, so that their bodies felt as if they were glued together. And Xan wasn’t saying anything. Well, neither was she, come to think of it. Tamsyn blamed the loudness of the lilting music but the truth was that she couldn’t think of anything she wanted to say other than something wholly inappropriate.
Like: I love the way you make me feel when you tighten your arms around my waist like that. Or, could you possibly press yourself a little closer?
Did he realise that, or did she somehow silently communicate her wishes to him? Because surely there must have been a reason—some defining moment—when Xan Constantinides thought it was perfectly acceptable for him to run his fingertips down her back in a way which even to her inexperienced self, spoke of careless intimacy. For several minutes, she let him do just that and she couldn’t deny how good it felt. She began to shiver each time he made the tantalisingly slow journey from the top of her neck to the base of her spine. Her heart was hammering and the rush of heat to her face echoed the molten heat which was clenching at her sex. Yet far from being disturbed by the sultry desire she was experiencing Tamsyn was aware of an intense feeling of relief. Briefly she closed her eyes as she dipped her forehead to rest on his shoulder as she felt the squirm of excitement. So she wasn’t frigid, after all. She could feel the things other women felt. Sweet heaven—could she feel them! It was as if someone had just flicked a switch and brought her body to life, so that every sinew and fibre was thrilling with the potent power of his proximity.
She heard him murmur something in her ear, it’s meaning a mystery because it was said in Greek. But then he pushed one thigh hard against hers, as if urging her legs apart and she found her super-susceptible body obeying his silent command. Her knees widened and a sudden thrill of pleasure shot through her as she felt the pressure of his hard thigh pushing against the softness of hers. Her breasts were thrusting insistently at his chest and her knees had become all wobbly and weak. She could feel the rub of her panties over a sudden honeyed slickness and felt an insistent yearning to have him touch her there...to whisper his finger over her most intimate place. To ease that escalating ache which was making her want to squirm with frustration. She swallowed, trying to ignore the heat which was flaring in her cheek—and that was when alarm bells started ringing. What was she doing? After years of being purer than the driven snow, was she really planning to make a slutty spectacle of herself on the dance floor—just because some super-smooth man was pressing all the right buttons?
Removing her hands from his shoulders she flattened her palms against his chest, trying not to be distracted by the hard wall of muscle as she stared up into his face. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ she demanded.
He didn’t look the slightest bit bothered by her furious accusation as he lifted his broad shoulders in a careless shrug. ‘I should have thought that was perfectly obvious.’
‘So suddenly you’re all over me, having ignored me all the way through dinner last night?’ she accused.
‘You were so combative that you deserved to be ignored,’ he said softly. ‘But I thought we’d agreed on a truce tonight?’
‘Does...?’ She swallowed, willing the erratic hammering of her pulse to subside. ‘Does a truce involve you coming on to me like that, in such a public way?’
‘Oh, come on, Tamsyn. Let’s not be hypocritical about what just happened. I thought you were enjoying yourself.’ He flickered her a slow smile. ‘I know I certainly was. And most people are too busy dancing to notice how close we were getting.’
Tamsyn shook her head, aware of the swing of heavy diamond earrings against her neck and nervously she touched the sleepers to check the precious jewels were secure. Which they were—unlike her. She was one seething mass of insecurity. And fear. She mustn’t discount the dominant emotion which was making her feel so scared. She felt as if she’d just stepped onto a sturdy wooden floor and it was about to give way beneath her. As if Xan Constantinides had the ability to waken something inside her—something which had been sleeping all these years. Suddenly the defiant persona she had perfected to protect herself from the kind of life her mother had lived, was in danger of crumbling before her eyes. Suddenly she was terrified of just how exposed he was making her feel. As if she was nothing but a bunch of sensitised nerve-endings which were jangling with hungry need. She shook her head again.
‘Look, I can’t do this,’ she whispered. ‘I’m sorry. Enjoy the rest of the party but I’m going to bed. It’s going to be a long flight tomorrow and I have a double shift on Monday. Nice meeting you, Xan,’ she said, and without another word she began to walk off the dance floor, aware of people turning to look at her as she hurriedly brushed past them.
Xan watched her go, caught in a rare moment of indecision, his eyes drawn to the bright shimmer of curls which cascaded like flames down her back. The voice of reason was urging him to let her go, because she was trouble. Anyone could see that. All mixed up and not his type. But the hunger of his body was more powerful than reason and he’d never had a woman walk away from him before—not like this. Was this how Hannah had snared the Sheikh—the two very ordinary Wilson sisters possessing a simple but effective strategy which would make powerful men lust after them?
Like a man hypnotised he found himself following her, mesmerised by the slender curve of her glittering bottom as she left the dance floor, surprised when she didn’t look back. Not once. There was no furtive side glance to check whether he was on her tail. And that was exciting, too. Her steps were determined—as if she really wanted to get away from him. This was the chase, he realised—the chase which other men spoke of but which he’d never encountered before. He could feel the tightening of his groin and hear the wild thunder of his heart, when suddenly she disappeared from sight and he was unprepared for the disappointment which flared through him. Purposefully increasing his pace, he rounded the corner and saw her—and perhaps the sound of his footsteps was enough to make her stop and turn around—a look of bewilderment on her face, as if she was genuinely surprised to see him. As if she doubted her ability to make a man follow her.
‘Xan?’ she said, creasing her forehead in a frown.
‘Tamsyn,’ he answered, and began to walk towards her, aware of her nipples pushing hard against the crystalline bodice of her dress. As he approached, he could feel the warm rush of blood pumping through his body and in that moment he felt as if he would die if he couldn’t have her.
He had reached her now and could see her darkened pupils making her green eyes appear almost black—just as the moist tremble of her lips indicated an unspoken desire to have him to crush them with his own. And he would, he thought hungrily. He would take the wildcat Tamsyn Wilson to his bed and subdue her in the most satisfactory way possible.
CHAPTER FOUR
BENEATH THE FRETWORK of lanterns lighting the palace corridor, Tamsyn’s heart was thundering as she watched Xan approach, his powerful body outlined by the dark fabric of his formal suit. His face was dark too and his eyes glittered out a message of intent which started a tug of longing deep inside her. It scared and excited her and she wanted to carry on running, but something was keeping her feet fixed to the spot.
‘Nobody has ever walked off and left me standing alone on the dance floor like that,’ he observed huskily.
From somewhere she found a remnant of her usual flippancy. ‘Oh, dear. Poor Xan. Is your ego suffering?’
‘It’s not my ego I’m thinking about right now,’ he ground out.
Some of her composure began to slip away as Tamsyn became aware of how big and strong he looked and how it had felt to be in his arms. Hadn’t it been the most incredible sensation she’d ever experienced?
She cleared her throat, trying to dispel her euphoric recall. ‘Look, I thought I’d made my feelings clear. I’m tired and on my way to bed. I don’t know why you’re chasing me through the corridors as if we’re a pair of kids playing cops and robbers.’
‘Yes, you do. You know exactly why,’ he said softly. ‘Because I want you and you want me. We’ve wanted each other from the moment we met, Tamsyn and unless we do something about it, it’s going to drive us both crazy.’
