Lora Leigh - Guilty Pleasure

The assassins had nearly had a jump on her. If she hadn’t been paying attention, she would have taken the bullet from that gun to her face.

“So I shouldn’t worry because you survive, what could have merely been the first attempt?” he asked her with cutting sarcasm. “Excuse me if I worry that your luck may run out, especially when I am very well aware that you managed to lose the men watching you for several hours today. Where the hell were you?”

“It wasn’t luck, it was training.” She strode to the bedroom door and pulled it open before leaving the room, thereby managing to avoid the interrogation concerning her whereabouts that morning.

She needed her clothes. It was time for her to leave. The honesty, the full truth of Khalid’s past, that intimacy that came from trust, that wasn’t happening so far so she may as well go home and clean her apartment. It wasn’t as though he had been giving a whole lot of himself to her up till now. She didn’t live here, she hadn’t been invited to do so, and this was something she wasn’t about to beg for. She may spend the better parts of her nights in his bed, but her days were a far different matter.

Perhaps he would get a clue tomorrow , she thought morosely, as she made her way down the stairs. It would have been nice if he had taken his clothes off, lain down beside her, and given her more than the most incredible sex she could have imagined.

She wasn’t going to plead. She wasn’t going to bitch over it. She’d never seen her mother have to beg for anything. Virginia Mathews had advised friends over the years that if a lover didn’t give his affection willingly, then it was meaningless.

Khalid had given his affection to women who belonged to other men, but thus far, he hadn’t given it to her in the same measure, and she knew it.

Once again she wished her mother wasn’t on vacation. She could use some of that female wisdom about now.

“Where the hell are you going?” His tone was sharp behind her as she bent and picked up her clothing.

“Home.” She kept the answer brief and the angry hurt hidden.

If she had to fight him for his affection, then it was meaningless, she reminded herself. It should be given freely. She shouldn’t have to rage at him over it.

She had to repeat the refrain to herself as she dropped the robe over the back of the chair and dressed.

“You could move in here.”

The suggestion stopped her cold. Dressed in her panties, bra, and top, she stood with her jeans in her hand as she turned her head to stare back at him.

“Where would I sleep?” Stepping into her jeans, she pulled them over her legs as she waited for his reply.

“In my bed.” The answer was more a snarl than a suggestion.

Marty glanced at the tense set of his body, the way he kept his arms at his sides, his eyes narrowed.

“Where would you sleep?” she snapped, and zipped her jeans before pushing her feet into her sandals. “I’d hate to run you out of your bed.”

“What kind of fucking game are you playing?” His voice was a hard, tight growl as he folded his arms across his chest in a gesture of building anger. “Other than the time I have spent working, I am in that damn bed with you.”

“I’m not playing.” She was in this for keeps, not for amusement. She didn’t relish the thought of walking away from him anytime soon with a broken heart any more than she relished the thought of living without the affection she needed from him if this went further.

“Oh, you’re playing,” he told her, his expression tightening as the arrogance thickened. “Do you think you can fool me, precious? You’re an amateur here. If you want games, just say it. I can play and show you how to do it right.”

“I have no doubt.” Pulling her purse from the small table she had laid it on earlier, she slung the leather strap over her shoulder and faced him with a sweet smile.

She felt anything but sweet.

“I have to leave. I need to clean my apartment and later I thought I might see if Courtney wants to meet me for dinner. Girls night out would be nice right about now.”

“Lunch and now dinner?” he snapped. “Tell me, Marty, did you want more from this than sex? Or was that all you had in mind all these years that you’ve chased me so diligently?”

That stopped her at the door. Turning back to him, she watched him for long, painful moments before speaking.

“Do you want more from this than sex, Khalid? Because if you do, then you have a hell of a way of showing it.”

Turning away from him, she stalked through the doorway and along the hall to the main foyer. He didn’t follow her.

She had hoped he would. He could have pulled her into his arms, held her, given her more than that very experienced sexuality of his. If he truly cared for her, he’d give her the explanations she needed as well. He’d tell her about himself, as well as his past, without making her feel as though she would be stepping into forbidden territory when she considered actually asking him.

He seemed to have a sixth sense for when she was about to give him the third degree, because he always found something that had to be done that minute.

Shaking her head at the thought, and at the tears that wanted to fall, she strode through the doors Abdul had opened and all but ran to her car.

This was hell. She needed more than the few moments it took for him to wipe the sex from her body. She needed more than the eroticism he gave so freely. She needed something to hold on to.

While driving from the estate she battled back her tears and reminded herself that it wasn’t over. She had three weeks left to capture his heart. Three weeks before she made the final decision on where her life would go from here.

Glancing in her rearview mirror she glared at the vehicles following her. He could send others to watch after her, but he couldn’t take the time, or make the effort, to ensure that she stayed by his side.

Damn him. There were days she was beginning to wonder if he wouldn’t really break her heart.

Khalid glared at the black BMW as it sped down the driveway to the security gates that protected the estate. His teeth were clenched, his body vibrated with frustration-and not sexual frustration, either.

She was making him crazy.

He knew what she wanted, and it was something he couldn’t give her, not yet. Explanations. Details of a past he didn’t want to remember, let alone talk about. But in her eyes had been the clear message that she would no longer accept anything less.

Khalid knew women, and he knew his avoidance of the questions in Marty’s eyes was hurting her. And God above knew he hated hurting her.

As he ran his hand along the back of his neck, he bit off a curse before jerking his cell phone from the holster at the belt of his jeans. Hitting a speed dial number, he brought it to his ear and waited.

Shayne answered the call on the first ring with a brief “yeah.”

“Have you learned anything?” The assailant who had attacked Marty was more elusive than they had anticipated.

“Not enough.” Anger filled Shayne’s voice. “I know what the bastard looks like now, Khalid. I know the general area where he’s supposed to be hiding. But I’ll be damned if I can find him.”

“No information at all has come in?” Khalid asked, thinking of the contacts he had sent Shayne to for help.

“Plenty of information.” Shayne sighed. “Whoever he is, he was definitely sent by your brothers to do more than just kill Marty. He’s researching a target and preparing to hit it. No word on what that target is yet, other than the fact that they consider it a strategic hit.”

“That could be anything.” Khalid sighed. “Any word if Ayid and Aman are in the States?”