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Qazim Al Shirah lifted his chin and gazed at Grace, his dark brown eyes penetrating and steady. "Good evening, Grace," he said, his voice deep. She almost felt the sound of his voice vibrate in her chest as she stepped out of the elevator.
Grace nodded. "Evening, Qazim," she breathed evenly. She heard the tension in her voice and wondered if he'd noticed.
Qazim eased his tall frame toward her. For a moment, Grace felt unsteady on her feet, and this time it had nothing to with the thick carpet or her flat shoes. Butterflies fluttered in her belly.
She cleared her throat and glanced around the large apartment, at the now familiar opulent furnishings. The mirrored expanses and sharp edges. The dark, shining surfaces. The sheer masculine power on display.
So much had happened here. So much to be forgotten, she told herself as he came closer.
Qazim was dressed in white, open-necked shirt and dark pants. Tempting chest hair curled teasingly below the open shirt collar. In the soft light of the apartment, his skin had a seductive, olive quality. She knew how that skin felt, the memory of the touch seared into her mind. She could almost taste his skin, so strong was the memory.
He leaned in close, resting a hand softly against her hip. It was an easy gesture, almost casual. She didn't move away from him. Instead she lifted her chin and allowed him to kiss her cheek. His face rested against hers for a long moment. Although he looked clean-shaven, she still felt his dark roughness.
She inhaled his scent, and felt her senses fill with its sharpness. She rested a hand against his shoulder, feeling the strength of his muscles, the tautness of his body.
Qazim leaned his head away from her and gazed inquiringly at Grace. He seemed to have sensed her tension, perhaps the hesitation in her welcome. His eyes narrowed slightly. "Everything okay?" he asked.
Grace nodded, too quickly, she realized. "Yeah, I'm fine," she muttered.
His even features were set with a steady expression. Up close he was even more handsome, she couldn't help thinking. Strong jaw; high cheekbones; full, moist lips with a dangerous, alluring twist at their corner. She remembered what those lips had done to her, how they had taken her to heights of pleasure, awakened something vital in her.
Grace forced her attention back to the moment. Qazim didn't seem completely convinced by her reply. His gaze lingered a few long moments. Searching.
Then he guided her into the room, his hand at the base of her spine. She felt tingles all through her body as she walked alongside him.
The room was huge. It stretched the entire length of one side of the building. The subdued, muted colors of the room's walls were reflected in the floor to ceiling windows which provided a breathtaking view out across the city. In the center of the room were a pair of long leather sofas, toward which Qazim was leading Grace. Away at the far end of the room Grace saw the dining table had already been set.
She heard noises from the distant kitchen. The caterers would have been here for a while, preparing the meal. Everything was just as it had been on previous occasions. So well organized. She wouldn't have expected anything less from Qazim.
Champagne glasses were already set out on the table next to the sofa. Grace sat down, straightening her dress as she did so. She couldn't help noticing Qazim's gaze settling hungrily on the sight of Grace's long legs.
She crossed her ankles primly and faced him. "Champagne," she observed glancing at the flutes on the table.
He reached across and handed her a glass. "I thought a celebration might be in order," he said lifting his own glass.
"Celebration?"
He nodded. "It's been two months since we met."
Grace tilted her head and lifted a brow. "That long?" she replied with just a hint of sarcasm. "Feel's like an eternity," she added tilting her head at him.
Qazim shrugged, ignoring her comeback. "Two months is a long time in a relationship," he announced grandly.
Grace wasn't sure if he was being completely serious. "Perhaps sheikhs don't date for that long," she replied.
He looked quizzically at her. "Are you implying something?"
Grace shrugged. "Not at all. Just that I seem to remember you telling me that you had dated lots of women before me. Are you saying you never went out with anyone for more than a few weeks?"
"I don't remember saying that," he said proudly. Maybe she'd offended him, she thought suddenly.
Grace nodded. "That's right,I forgot," she said. "We had an agreement. We don't discuss our previous relationships. Wasn't that it?"
Qazim tilted his head. "There's no point," he said. He leaned closer. "All that matters is us. Isn't that so," he said, lifting a brow.
Qazim's gaze darkened. She knew that look. Recognized the sensation it triggered in her. Grace felt her heart quicken involuntarily.
Treacherously. Why was it that he could affect her like this? Her body and mind seemed to exist in two different worlds. Her mind told her to do one thing, while her body wanted something else entirely. Was it simply that he knew how to capitalize on that weakness?
