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“The whole building?” She thought of the Victorian beauty the Wine Underground was nestled snugly at the basement of. It was five stories high and Dickensian in its glory.
“Yes, the whole building. However it is not official yet, and he would not like any rumours to make the purchase difficult.”
“I understand. What’s he going to do with it?”
“A hotel.”
“A hotel,” she nodded slowly, as always, thinking of business opportunities. Hotels needed artwork, and she was one of the top agents in London. But she wouldn’t ask Layth for help. She could, however, make touch with his friend as soon as news of the purchase spread.
“Your cogs are turning,” he drew an imaginary circle on the side of her head.
Her smile was distracted. How many rooms? What level of furnishings? She had her eye on some impressionist paintings that would be spectacular behind a reception desk.
“What are you thinking about?” He wondered, fascinated in the subtle shift of her features. “You are far, far away from me.”
“I’m sorry.” She blinked, to clear the distractions. “I was thinking about … work.”
“Work?” It hadn’t yet occurred to him to wonder about her life. Beyond a very sexy woman who liked to drink cocktails and champagne, and who lived a rather adventurous and liberated s
ocial life, he knew very little about Cassandra Walton, and what made her tick.
“Would you like some breakfast? I would like to hear about your work, but I fear my stomach will growl distractingly if I don’t eat.”
She bit down on her lip to stop from laughing. The sun was shining with the power of flame through the window, sending little darts of gold towards them. It felt, for a strange, disconcerting moment, like a perfect snatch of time. She instantly dismissed the idea, and mentally downplayed it as ridiculous.
He was just someone she planned to enjoy spending time with. And by time, she meant sex.
“Yes,” she nodded, feeling reassured. “Food would be a good idea.”
He kept his eyes on hers as he reached for a receiver hanging against the wall. “What do you want?”
“Oh, um,” she shrugged, not sure what was available. “Whatever you’re having.”
He continued to look at her, his dark eyes glowing with intensity. He spoke in his own language, and Cassie was instantly transfixed. It was unlike anything she’d ever heard before. Musical and magical, deep and secretive. It sounded like he was singing. She set her coffee aside so that she could stand, and walk around the island bench to stand right in front of him. Her blue eyes were locked to his as he replaced the receiver. He didn’t move.
“That sounded beautiful.”
“Breakfast?” He didn’t comprehend. “You do not speak my language.”
“No. But you do. And it’s lovely.”
He laughed, and whispered words in her ear that she didn’t understand but that she craved to hear more of. Words that were dark and mysterious and sounded sexy.
“What did you say?”
He wrapped his arms around her waist, holding her against his body. “I said you are as beautiful as the morning sun against the desert sands. That your body makes me feel as powerful as the first Bedouin sheikh of my land. That your kisses are magic on my soul.”
Cassie stared up at his face, completely stunned. Her body, however, had no such lag. Her mouth sought his, and she kissed him with passion and heat. Her arms reached to twist in his hair, curling behind his neck. She groaned against him, as desire flooded her system once more. He was irresistible.
He lifted her onto the bench, grateful she’d pulled on one of his shirts and nothing else. As for his boxers, they were easily discarded, so that he could enter her quickly. He couldn’t wait. She lay back on the cold marble and he pulled at her knees, so that he had full access to her. As he moved, he ran his hand down her front, between the valley made by her breasts. He couldn’t stop watching her, as she reacted to this total invasion. She writhed before him, twisting and turning in an agony of sexual need. Her libido was unlike anything he’d encountered. She was fire and more fire, flame and heat. She was burning in his hands, and only he had the power to cool her. And even then, only for a while.
He felt his own sense of power inflate like a balloon in his chest.
No lover had made him feel so indispensable.
No woman had made him feel like such a man.
He teased her nipples with his fingers while he drove her closer and closer to inexorable release. She arched her back, and he thought she was simply trying to express her need, but she sat, and wrapped her legs around his waist, and her arms around his shoulders. He grunted and moved away from the bench, carrying her to a wall. He held her against, burying himself in her with all his strength. She shuddered, finally, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, as she collapsed her head against him. He felt her muscles spasm and released himself gratefully, whispering more of his language into her ear as he exploded.
