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Chapter Twelve
Aziza
My heartbeat scattered along with my thoughts. One minute I was about to faint from the tickling stroke of Coop’s breath across the nape of my neck and the next he’d spun me around and hoisted me back onto the table. Was this really happening? It couldn’t be. Could it? I reached out and pinched his chest.
He growled.
Shit. He’s real.
His eyes cut a harsh line to mine and I wiped the smile from my face. “S…orry.”
Flames seared his pupils, like fire dancing over the ocean. His fingertips skirted up the outer edge of my arm, but my nipples tightened painfully, as if he were stroking them. “Don’t worry about it, Presh, because…” His husky voice trailed off as his eyes dropped. He continued his thought, idly whispering to one of the sensitive peaks straining toward him, “I plan on doing much worse to you.”
My body quaked with full-on awareness. I forced a deep breath through my nose. But his scent was like some crazy mixture of ocean, wind, rock, and sky. How could a man dressed straight from Savile Row show up here looking to take me like a warrior while smelling of star dust and sea mist?
I shakily drew back.
I was imagining him again. This couldn’t be reality.
Yet live stream videos relayed real-time current events. Nighttime traffic flowed like a bright kaleidoscope around Seven Dials in West End. The POTUS waved from the south lawn of the White House in D.C. before getting ready to take off in Marine One. A haboob had blurred out most all of Dubai’s outside cameras throughout the day, but the dust had started to settle as night had fallen. Here on the island, a German shepherd was getting an acupuncture treatment. Little pins speared out all over his black and tan head, but his tongue lolled from his mouth like he was drunk and in love.
All the screens and monitors powered off. The room darkened, now only lit by the glow of the conference table’s emerald-colored undermount lights.
“Presh?” Coop drawled, before setting the remote back on the table. “Just you and me. The rest of the world can wait for one goddamned minute.”
I reached out and let my fingers trace his face. His skin felt smooth. My heart sped dangerously. “The beard suited you.”
Coop’s hand went to his jaw, his fingers meeting mine and stroking against them. A sensual tremble ripped through me despite the gentle maneuver. “I’ll grow it for you. Give me a couple of hours.”
“You were off the grid longer than a couple of hours.” I hadn’t been able to keep the disappointment from my voice.
“I know.” The tender tone accounted for both his disappearance, as well as the hurt it had caused me.
“We’re going to have to talk about that.”
“I know.”
“Are you really here, Mushaeghib?”
His slow nod acknowledged just how heavily loaded a question it was.
“Pinch me again, if you want,” he offered with a manly chuckle. His laugh changed to a low growl when I took him up, squeezing a little harder for leaving and for not letting me know he was attracted to me.
His eyes flared, as if I’d been disobedient for actually following his directive. “Is that so, Precious?”
He grabbed my hips and hauled me flush with him, like being pressed up against his masculine body was somehow a punishment. So solid. So…hard. The thin fabric of his slim-fit dress pants left nothing to the imagination. And even my active imagination couldn’t have done him the justice God had.
My eyes bulged as much as his pants did. “Is that so, Sharky?”
“Is what so?”
I tilted my hips, rocking myself pointedly against his thickened length. So very rigid. “Already?”
The inferno blazing in his eyes pulled oxygen from my lungs. His grip tightened, restricting my rocking motion to a grind. In a voice rough with gravel and lust, he asked, “Did you really think you were the only one who imagined this day? Us together?”
Yes!
“When I asked you to com—”
