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He sobered, shaking his head. ‘I’m not, I assure you. It’s only that I find your honesty refreshing.’ An emotion crossed his eyes, a look that made no sense. Guilt? Regret? ‘Come home with me.’ His voice was gruff. ‘We can have coffee, sit and talk if you would prefer. This does not need to be about sex.’
Her lips parted in surprise at the offer. She rejected it instantly. ‘Coffee’ wasn’t enough. She wanted so much more.
‘Kiss me properly.’ She blurted the command out. Foolish? Definitely. But when he kissed her, she saw things with a blinding clarity—or perhaps it was simply that she stopped overthinking everything, and could truly comprehend what she wanted.
Khalil did not need to be asked twice. He stepped forward, his powerful frame pressing hers back against the brick wall, his body dwarfing hers despite the fact India wasn’t short. He was all hard planes and angles, the weight of him against her a pleasure she could barely process. Just like before, he stared into her eyes and dropped his head slowly, giving her time to rethink this, to change her mind, but India had already decided what she wanted.
He sensed her acquiescence, his kiss relentless, his tongue lashing hers as his mouth moved, so she could barely breathe, and yet she kissed him back just as hard with a matching urgency, her hands curving around behind him, her nails digging into his suit jacket with the strength of her desperation.
The dress was a fine silk and his fingers caught the hem, lifting it at one side, so the flimsy evening air brushed her bare legs, creating the perfect contrast to his warmth and hardness. Higher and higher he drew the dress, until his fingers were on her hip, the dress bunched in his palm, and she moaned, low in her throat, because she wanted now to be naked for him, to be all his, just as he’d promised he’d make her.
The thought should have been sobering and yet it wasn’t, it was the exact opposite. An erotic fever had overtaken India completely, she was subject to its whims completely.
Higher and higher his hands went, until the dress was at her breasts. She moaned, lights bright behind her eyelids. He broke their kiss so he could stare at her nakedness, his eyes fixated on her in a way that sent a rush of power through her limbs, before his dark head swooped down and his mouth drew one of her nipples in. His teeth clamped down and she cried out, the sharp pleasure too much to bear, more than anything she’d ever experienced. Her body was quivering with needs; the heat between her legs demanded attention.
‘Please,’ she whimpered, tilting her head back to stare at the sky.
‘Say my name,’ he demanded, transferring his mouth to her other nipple. She groaned, the touch so perfect, the first breast he’d lavished with attention enjoying the contrast of the cool night air, sending her pulse into overdrive.
‘Please, Khalil,’ she said instinctively, not even sure what she was asking for, only that her life might very well depend on it.
His wolfish grin when he looked up at her was all the confirmation she needed. Her heart thumped and her stomach rolled with desire. She wanted him; she had to have him.
But it wasn’t so easy. There was Ethan to consider—not for himself, but for the fact he was a client and she desperately couldn’t afford to lose her job.
‘How long are you in town for?’ She whimpered, as his hand found her inner thigh and teased the flesh there, tantalisingly close to—and yet desperately far from—her sex.
‘Why?’ He moved his mouth back to hers, kissing her once more, so answering was impossible. The dress fell back down and she moaned, because the silk against her taut, overly sensitive breasts was a form of torture.
Now his knee wedged her legs apart and she pressed down, her most intimate cluster of nerves seeking gratification, needing a pleasure only he could give her. His laugh was a rumble in his throat, and his fingers worked her hair, loosening it from the bun so it fell in waves down her back.
‘Tomorrow night,’ she said breathlessly, unable to think beyond the words she was trying to get out. ‘A date.’
‘No. Tonight.’
‘I—’
‘Do not tell me you can’t,’ he said firmly, and she heard his regal authority and knew that, in his country, Khalil would be obeyed by all he met, without question.
‘I can’t,’ she whispered.
‘And yet you will, if you want me to make love to you.’ And with that, he stepped back, the ultimatum delivered at the same time he put space between them, the distance between their bodies a form of torture for India. She groaned as she straightened, staring at him with disbelief.
‘Why?’ It was thick with surprise. ‘Why does it have to be tonight?’
‘Do you think I would accept you going home with another man now?’ he said seriously, but with such a sense of possession that her stomach burst into flames. ‘You will be mine tonight, India. Not his.’
India knew better than to tell him she wasn’t ‘anyone’s’ to claim—she was a sentient human being with her own will and desires—but he knew that already, because he’d stoked her desires to a fever pitch and was currently demanding she exercise her own free will by choosing him over Ethan. He was making her acknowledge their connection, but she was under no illusions: this decision was hers. He was waiting for her answer.
‘But how?’ she said with a shake of her head. ‘I don’t want to offend Ethan.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘A man who treats you as little more than a waitress deserves to be offended,’ he said with firm disapproval, so she smiled despite the precariousness of her situation.
‘I’m serious,’ she said after a beat. ‘We can’t be seen leaving together.’
He shrugged. ‘Fine. Then tell him you are not well and make your escape. I will follow a short time later.’
Her breath grew thin, as though the altitude were affecting her. Yes, that was an option. She could make her excuses via text message, apologising and saying she’d suddenly become unwell. It was hardly a glorious way to conclude the evening, but it also wasn’t likely to get her fired.
