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Still, it was a bit rich, his assuming she would have ‘catch and contain’ plans for him. She had a very nice life, thank you very much, and she didn’t intend to swap it for hot nights in Moscow with him.

So she let him have it. ‘I should probably let you know I’ve got a ten-kilometre rule. I only date men who live within ten kilometres of Montmartre, otherwise it just gets too difficult. If it got serious he might want me to move, and I won’t be doing that.’ She raised a brow. ‘So I’m not a good bet if you’re looking for any more than this.’

Khaled lifted his head away from hers. ‘Ten kilometres?’

‘Don’t worry,’ she said with a little smile, ‘we’ll just consider this a weekend fling—that way we have the back-to-the-real-world clause open to us. You can go back to your normal, and I’ll go back to mine. Deal?’

Khaled’s arms tightened around her and there was a frown in his eyes. ‘This is what you want?’

Gigi didn’t have a clue what she wanted. She knew what she liked. She liked his arms around her, the closeness physical intimacy had brought them, but she already knew this was probably the biggest mistake of her life.

If she let it be.

She wasn’t going to do that.

But her fighting words were already beginning to topple, because he might be saying one thing but his body surrounding hers was saying another—and she was fairly susceptible to his body.

She’d have to watch out for those mixed signals. She didn’t want to get confused. She really didn’t want to find herself jumping through hoops to make him pay attention to her. She’d been there, got the T-shirt.

No, she needed to hold on to her independence even if it choked her. She was perfectly capable of meeting his sophistication with some of her own. Yes, she’d definitely do that.

She lifted her chin. ‘Sure.’

He let her go. Only to slide his hands over her hips and delve down between her thighs. Heat followed those hands and Gigi arched her body helplessly back against him.

He cupped one breast and plucked at her nipple as his other hand teased and pleasured her. She turned her head to try and kiss him but he was controlling their movements, and when he gruffly told her to put her hands forward on the bench she did as she was told and he entered her.

The eroticism of the movement took her unawares, and then he was moving inside her, guiding her hips with his big hands, and she couldn’t think—only feel. Her body had become a vessel for their mutual pleasure, until she splintered into a thousand pieces and he followed her.

Gigi turned, clumsy and off-centre, not sure what had just happened, wanting connection and touch and to be kissed.

Khaled curved his hand around her cheek and she strained upwards to kiss him. For a moment she thought he was holding back, but something flashed in the back of his eyes and with a groan he lowered his head and kissed her with all the lush romanticism she could have wished for.

Then he scooped her up and carried her back to bed and began all over again.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

‘HAVE YOU GONE LOCO?’

Khaled pictured the long-legged, red-haired beauty he’d left less than an hour ago, sleeping like a Burne-Jones pre-Raphaelite maiden wrapped in white sheets, and thought maybe he had.

This raging possessive feeling inside him was a form of madness.

Which was why he’d needed to go for a run. Clear his head. Get some space between him and the woman he’d left in his bed.

Now he was loping back through the park across the road from his apartment building, his phone against his ear, his old friend’s amusement putting some perspective back into the picture.

Alejandro du Crozier had experienced his own share of media attention. He was one of the world’s highest-paid polo players, and the paparazzi had a love affair with the Argentinian’s private life.

‘The press are calling it a kidnapping. I hope she’s worth it, my friend.’

Khaled frowned. He wasn’t discussing Gigi. Even if her actions had brought much of this upon herself, the woman he’d come to know did not deserve to be the target of spurious stories in the media. And after last night he didn’t want to discuss her even with Alejandro, and they had shared a lot over the years.

The Argentinian had rolled up in the gorge below Mount Elbrus several years ago, looking for Kabardian breeding stock, and a business relationship had turned into a strong friendship. Khaled was not a man who had many friends, but he took those he had seriously.

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