Imprisoned by a Vow Page 11

  She didn’t like Joss getting too close. He made her feel things she had no business feeling, especially for a man who kept her purely for business.

  Even a man who’d proved he was nothing like Gamil or his crony Murat.

  Pleasure sang in her heart as she remembered Joss tonight, looking down his superb nose as he called Murat a bully. As he deliberately excluded him from a multibillion-dollar deal.

  Joss, she realised, would never behave brutally like her stepfather. Despite his formidable power and strong will, he wasn’t a bully.

  He’d cared enough to worry about her health. He’d instructed his housekeeper to provide her favourite meals. He treated her with respect in front of others.

  And when they were alone...heat washed her. Even when they fought, or kissed, he hadn’t tried to force her.

  That said everything about him. He was a man she could respect, maybe even like. It undermined her resolve to keep her distance and made her wonder about that lightning strike of passion. She’d never experienced anything like it. Maybe that was why she felt off balance.

  She had so much to think about. She needed to be alone.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joss. I’m exhausted. We can talk tomorrow.’ Leila didn’t wait for him to insist but walked down the hall to her bedroom. She felt tightly strung and hadn’t the strength to face his probing.

  She’d almost made it to her door when long fingers wrapped around her elbow, halting her.

  Leila refused to think about how that warm grip sent ripples of sensation up her arm. How Joss’s subtle spice scent brought back those heady moments in the lift when he’d taken her to the gates of paradise with his kisses and the press of his powerful body.

  Heat scalded her cheeks as she swung to face him.

  ‘We haven’t finished talking.’

  She arched her eyebrows. ‘I told you I’m tired. We can talk in the morning.’

  Her heart thudded once, twice, as she met his stare. Her chest grew tight as she held her breath, willing him to release her. She told herself he made her uncomfortable, invading her space. Yet it wasn’t discomfort throbbing through her body.

  ‘What are you frightened of, Leila? You can tell me.’ His voice was deep and low, thrumming across her taut nerves. How could a man’s voice feel like the stroke of velvet across her nape and breasts? Her skin tightened, her nipples budding as if from cold. Yet it was heat she felt, insidious heat that burrowed deep, deep inside.

  ‘I’m not frightened.’

  ‘No?’ His dark eyebrows pitched down in a look of pure disbelief. ‘Not even of our guest, Murat?’

  ‘Him?’ Leila’s lip curled. ‘He’s a dreadful man but I’m not frightened of him.’ Oh, there’d been a moment when they’d met again that had brought back in painful vibrancy all her stepfather had done, how he’d tried to reduce her to a shell of her real self. But tonight she’d felt only loathing.

  In the dimly lit hall Joss stared. Why was he so persistent? He was the one who insisted they lead separate lives.

  ‘If not Murat, then what are you hiding from?’

  ‘I’m not hiding. Your imagination is running away with you.’ Even as she said it, Leila knew it to be a lie. She longed for the sanctuary of her suite, away from Joss’s piercing gaze. She didn’t understand the warring emotions he evoked. His interest annoyed yet excited her.

  She tugged her hand but he held her easily.

  ‘If you’re not hiding and you’re not afraid, then you won’t mind strolling with me out on the roof garden.’

  Leila’s skin iced.

  ‘There’s a marvellous view across the Thames and the scent of blossoms on the night air is magic.’ He scrutinised her carefully. ‘Out in the open we can get a breath of fresh air after that crush of people.’ He paused. ‘I understand you haven’t been out there yet. Allow me to show you. There’s a wonderful feeling of space and openness.’

  Leila bit her lip, trying to stem rising panic. Space and openness... She shuddered, remembering how the sky had pushed down on her that day at the airport. Even going out with Joss in London in the safety of the limo had taken every ounce of courage. And the distraction of his kisses.

  Her heart gave a nervous jolt.

  He was waiting and there was something in his eyes that told her he understood her fear.

  Her chin jerked up. Had he guessed? How?

  Damn the man! Why couldn’t he leave her be?

  ‘If it’s so important to you,’ she said at last, her voice husky from her suddenly dry throat, ‘do show me your roof garden.’ She pivoted on her heel, determined to get this over with as quickly as possible. Surely she could manage just a minute or two. Surely!

  ‘This way.’ Joss pushed open a door and led her across a wide, carpeted room towards full-length windows. Beyond it Leila saw the outline of potted trees, a pergola, the shimmer of a delicate trail of water cascading artfully to a pool.

  Her pulse rose to a clumsy gallop as she looked beyond and up to the wide sky that seemed to store and reflect the city’s light haze. She imagined standing out there, under the weight of that vastness, and stumbled, catching her heel in the deep carpet.

  Joss caught her to him, his heart a solid beat under her palm as she steadied herself. He reached out and slid open one of the glass doors.

  Leila sucked in her breath, her eyes fixed on the movement. Cool air wafted in, brushing her goose-pimpled flesh. The muted sound of an ambulance in the distance echoed in her ears, mingling with the ebb and flow of her breathing.

  Gritting her teeth, Leila moved away from Joss and took a careful step towards the opening. She wobbled on the threshold and had to grab the door.

  ‘Obstinate woman!’ The words were a growl in her ear as Joss’s arm wrapped around her waist, drawing her close.

  She swung to face him.

  ‘What do you want from me, Joss?’ She couldn’t hide the plea in her voice. Instantly pride came to her rescue. ‘I told you I’m not afraid.’

  ‘No?’ Even in the semi-darkness she discerned the glitter of his eyes in that scowling face. ‘You’re running scared, Leila.’

  She drew herself up, determined to keep her weaknesses to herself. They revealed too much she needed to keep private.

  ‘What am I supposed to be running from?’ If she had to she’d walk right across his precious roof terrace and lean out over the street below, rather than have his pity.

  Even in the gloom she saw his jaw set hard.

  ‘This.’ It was a hiss of sound that barely reached her ears before his head obliterated the light and his lips took hers.

  This time as his mouth crushed hers, something inside rose up to meet him. Something instantaneous and eager, hungry and desperate. Some animal instinct in her morphed out of fear and anger and the need that had been growing ever since Joss had held the wedding goblet to her lips and claimed her as his wife. Ever since he’d taken her in his arms and obliterated nerves and doubt and disquiet with the reality of his big, hard body and tender touch.

  Leila melted, her knees giving way as she grabbed his shoulders with hard fingers.

  ‘I’m not scared,’ she whispered, her words muffled against his lips.

  It was true. He was huge, powerful and strong, a dominant male. But she knew deep inside that Joss Carmody was a man unlike the one she’d learnt to fear. She clung tighter to his hard frame, feeling a tremor quake through him.

  Joss made her feel...he made her feel...

  Thought spiralled into nothingness as her senses took over.

  ‘You should be scared.’ Joss hauled her close, lifting her till their bodies were perfectly aligned. His long fingers spread over her bottom, holding her high and tight as he dragged his mouth from hers and rained hot kisses across her throat. ‘You make me want to lose control.’r />
  Leila’s neck arched back under the weight of those brief, hard kisses that brought her body to tingling restlessness. She felt hot all over, shivering with it, yet craving the warmth of his body against hers as if her life depended on it.

  She burrowed her hands in his hair, revelling in the thick softness against her fingers, cradling his head as he dipped lower, following the line of her necklace down between her breasts.

  Liquid desire swirled and pooled low in her body, shocking her. It wasn’t Joss losing control, it was her!

  She should hate it. She should fear it. Surely losing control at his hands was to let him dominate as she’d vowed never to let him do?

  Yet this felt glorious. It felt like victory, pleasure and power.

  Joss lowered his head further and licked the line of her cleavage right up to the pearl pendant. He did it again, this time following the edge of her bodice high over her breast. Leila gasped as raw delight tore through every barrier she’d erected between them.

  ‘You’re totally in control,’ she whispered, her voice a husky protest. She wanted him as helpless in the face of these overwhelming sensations as she. But she didn’t have the experience to do it. All she had was instinct to guide her and Joss’s undeniable expertise.

  He looked up and she gulped, dry-mouthed, watching his tongue swirl anew over the side of her breast, feeling sparks of pleasure wherever he touched. She’d never known anything so erotic.

  ‘You want to see me lose control?’ Another swipe of his tongue, this time across the fine fabric of her dress till he found her nipple and bit gently through the fabric.

  Leila’s fingers dug into his scalp as her whole body jolted. Her eyes widened in shock as a low moan escaped her lips. Brazen excitement hummed through her. No thought of modesty or hesitation. She wanted Joss’s touch on her. She needed it.

  Her breath hissed between clenched teeth as she realised she teetered on the brink of giving herself to a man she’d known mere weeks.

  ‘You don’t want sex with your wife. You said so!’ Was that her voice, that uneven whisper? Leila scrambled to straighten her body and her thoughts. This couldn’t be happening.

  But he held her tight so her wriggles only brought them into more intimate contact. Clamped against his erection, each movement was an erotic caress.

  She stilled, horrified at how much she wanted to move against him.

  ‘Oh, believe me, Leila, I do.’ He ended the sentence solemnly, slowly, as if repeating the marriage vows they’d shared just weeks ago.

  Valiantly she strove for sense.

  ‘It’s not in our agreement,’ she gasped, telling herself to break his hold even as her hands cradled his head.

  ‘Agreement be damned.’ His mouth was at her throat again, each word planted against flesh that quivered at his touch. One large hand cupped her breast and she sagged in his embrace.

  He swung her up as if she weighed nothing and whirled her away from the door.

  A soft mattress took her weight as he crushed her beneath him. For a moment something like panic flared as his superior strength imprisoned her. Then he drew back, one hand going to her hair, the other tracing her lips so tenderly she had to work to repress a sigh of delight.

  He wasn’t forcing her. He was seducing her.

  Leila waited for dismay to strike. It didn’t.

  ‘We can change our agreement, Leila.’ His lips against her ear had her arching up from the bed, senses on overdrive at the unfamiliar touch.

  ‘I want you, Leila. You want me. It’s that simple.’

  ‘How do you know I want you?’ She put her palm against his chest and pushed till he lifted his head. The dark shadows emphasised the harsh planes of his features, their strength and arrogance. His eyes glowed avariciously as he surveyed her, as if anticipating the act of possessing her body.

  Leila swallowed hard as anxiety pierced her.

  Then she looked down to his taut mouth, saw what looked like pain there. She heard his ragged breathing, so like her own, and realised his heavy burden in holding himself in check.

  ‘Don’t you?’ His words were raw but his touch, one finger feathering her cheek then brushing her parted lips, was gentle. Leila trembled at its devastating tenderness.

  He heaved a deep breath. ‘There’s nothing wrong with lust, Leila. Simple, straightforward physical need.’ His lips curved in a tight smile. ‘You can’t deny it’s here between us. It needn’t change anything else.’ He stroked her mouth again and something unravelled inside her.

  ‘Why not accept it? Enjoy it?’ His low voice was deliciously persuasive. ‘It won’t go away no matter how much you want to hide. Not till we’ve sated it.’ His touch feathered delight through her senses and despite herself, Leila revelled in the hot weight of him holding her down.

  Was that what she was doing? Hiding?

  Leila tried to marshal her thoughts but Joss’s touch, his body, his breath on her face and the spicy male scent of his skin every time she inhaled made logic impossible.

  ‘Enjoy it while it lasts, Leila. Then move on.’

  Move on. She grasped at the words. He was right. She wanted to move on. Her plans for the future depended on her breaking away from Joss and standing on her own two feet. How could she do that when desire caught her in its silken net?

  She looked up into dark, knowing eyes and realised he, with all his experience, understood this...conflagration of need far better than she.

  Maybe it was her very inexperience that caught her out. She’d never kissed a man before Joss. No wonder her hormones ran riot. He touched her, the merest brush of one finger, and she went up in flames like a powder keg primed to explode.

  Would this need haunt her till she gave in to it? How could she concentrate on her future while she fought this terrible longing for the man she’d married?

  One taste of passion. Why not? One taste to satisfy the gnawing hunger. Then she could move on.

  It sounded deceptively easy but at the same time inevitable.

  Tentatively Leila lifted her hand to cup Joss’s jaw, feeling the unfamiliar tickle of emerging bristles against her palm. He felt foreign. Unfamiliar. Wickedly attractive.

  She slipped her hand into his hair and pulled his head down to hers.

  CHAPTER NINE

  WHAT HE’D DONE to deserve Leila in his bed, Joss didn’t know. He did know she was different. This thing between them was different—more intense than anything he’d experienced.

  Every touch, every look, grazed through the layers of familiarity, even boredom, that had accumulated after so many easy lovers.

  This wasn’t easy. This was heart-poundingly raw and hard and unfamiliar. He felt passion so potent it caught his throat as he stripped her dress to reveal the woman who’d haunted his thoughts.

  His wife.

  Was that why this seemed profound? Some remnant of primitive male instinct to possess his woman? Was that what invested her sleek, alluring body with such fascination?

  His wife. His woman.

  Joss shook his head. He didn’t want to own her, just possess her long enough to find the mutual pleasure that had teased for weeks. He had no interest in a lifelong partner.

  As for the tremor in his hands as he ripped open his shirt—eagerness, that was all.

  His gaze raked her body, bare but for an innocent-looking cream bra and panties. He’d been wrong to worry she was anorexic. Slim, yes, delicate in a supple way that hinted at hidden strength, ripe in all the right places.

  His heart hammered.

  ‘Take your hair down.’ The words grated as he wrenched out of his jacket and shirt together. Even the weight of air on his bare torso was heavy on sensitised skin. How would it be when Leila caressed him?

  His gaze dropped to her sultry mouth as she
reached to undo her necklace. He imagined her lips on his flesh, and his body spasmed tight in anticipation.

  She dropped the pendant on the bedside table, drawing his gaze, reminding him of the need to grab the protection he kept close.

  Abruptly he levered himself up, his mouth tightening in a crooked smile at her instinctive protest.

  ‘Just for a moment, sweetheart.’ Standing, he bent to kiss her stomach. The taste of her was addictive, and her scent, like sandalwood and sunshine, sent blood rushing urgently through his veins. He paused, swirling his tongue in her navel, biting a line of gentle nips down her flat belly to the top of her panties. He couldn’t resist cupping her there, through the fragile fabric. She was hot and wet, pushing up against his palm with gratifying urgency.

  ‘Soon,’ he promised, planting a kiss where his hand had been and feeling her quake in response.

  Joss fumbled with the rest of his clothes and the condom, hands shaking in his urgency. When he turned, her hair was spread wide around her shoulders, a ripple of voluptuous satin. Her eyes were huge in the moonlight, flickering down to his groin then back to his face.

  That hint of trepidation would have been gratifying if he weren’t so painfully aroused.

  As it was he barely had the patience to strip her underwear without tearing it from her body. Then she was naked beneath him and he stilled in awe.

  ‘You’re more beautiful than I could have imagined.’ He didn’t recognise his roughened voice.

  Leila shook her head, reaching for his shoulders and drawing him down to lie on her soft skin and slippery silk tresses. All his senses rioted as he pressed against her. Each harsh breath created friction that sharpened the tension, and when she slid her hands over his body...

  ‘Yes, like that,’ he growled, his voice a guttural whisper. ‘Touch me.’

  She was taking him to heaven. No, to purgatory, with those long, stroking caresses that ended too abruptly. With fingers that fluttered tentatively, then grasped firmly as they moulded and explored.

  Joss moved his weight to one side, taking the opportunity to thrust her legs wider and sink between them. Her roving hands stilled and he grabbed one, anchoring it around his rigid shaft, his hand covering hers.