Lynn Harris - Up Close And Personal - Captive but Forbidden / Unnoticed and Untouched / Revelations of the Night Before

“You don’t sound fine,” he said. And then he rolled over and took her with him until she sprawled half on his body and half off.

“It’s a bit overwhelming,” she admitted.

“I get that a lot,” he said smugly, and she knew he was trying to make her laugh.

It worked, damn him. “Arrogant bastard.”

His fingers stroked along her spine. “Seriously,” he said after a few moments. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” she said on a sigh. “I am.”

It was not his finest moment. Raj lay awake long after Veronica had dozed off and contemplated the mess he’d made. What the hell had he done?

He’d never, ever slept with someone he was guarding. It had been wrong to do so, and yet he’d been powerless to resist her request.

Hell, he hadn’t wanted to resist. Since the moment he’d seen her from the bar of the hotel, he’d wanted this woman with the kind of craving that abhorred him. The kind of craving that drug addicts used to justify their excesses.

That thought did not cheer him in the least.

But she’d been all gorgeous, sexy femininity, with an alluring laugh and a come-hither look that fooled every man she bestowed it upon. He’d known better than to fall for it, yet he had.

Beneath the facade, she was amazing. Serious, smart, funny and sad. Sadder than any woman he’d ever known, with the exception of his mother. He hated that sadness, wanted to take it away from her forever.

He pressed a hand to his chest. There was a dull ache there, the kind of ache he’d gotten whenever he’d come home from school to find his mother high again.

Whenever he’d been able to go to school, that is. He’d missed most of his middle school years with all the moving they’d done. How he’d ever gotten into—and graduated from—high school was as much a mystery to him as anyone.

That he was even thinking of those days right now was not a good sign.

He considered slipping from the bed and returning to the living area, where he’d been on the computer when she’d opened the window and triggered the silent alarm he’d set, but the bed was warm and she was soft and sleeping. Her head lay on his chest, her silky platinum hair a shiny tangle that he itched to shove his fingers into.

He would not move, would not risk waking her when she was sleeping so soundly—especially when she’d told him she didn’t usually sleep very well.

Eventually, he fell into a light doze, his mind filled with thoughts of her—of the soft cries she’d made as he’d taken her, of the way her body opened to him, moved with him, the way she’d found her pleasure and cried out his name.

Beneath the surface, he was troubled. Troubled because she’d trusted him. She’d flat-out told him earlier that she wanted someone who would love her, who would give her a family, and though he knew he wasn’t that man—couldn’t ever be that man—he’d accepted her trust and taken her body because he was too weak to say no.

Because she’d gutted him with her trust and her need and he’d been powerless.

A few hours later, in the dim light of dawn, he felt her stir. Her hand slipped along his chest, her fingers spreading wide, as if she were learning him by touch. Her mouth pressed against his skin, and his body hardened instantly.

He should have gone back to his bed on the couch, but it was too late. He knew, even as her fingers found him, wrapped around him, that he was not pushing her away.

He should, he definitely should—but he couldn’t. Instead, he lay there, let her stroke him, purr against his skin. He groaned her name when she climbed on top of him and took him inside her inch by slow inch.

She was so warm, so wet, and he closed his eyes, let himself feel the pleasure of her fingers splayed against his chest as she rode him slowly, so slowly he thought he would die of anticipation.

“Raj,” she said. “Oh, Raj.”

Once more, she broke his control. He threaded his fingers in her hair, pulled her down to him, kissed her thoroughly, his tongue sliding against hers, his lips molding hers as she began to make little noises in her throat that drove him insane.

He flipped her over, slid so deeply into her body that they both groaned with the pleasure.

“Don’t stop,” she said, as if sensing that he was at war with himself. “Please don’t stop.”

He didn’t. Not for a very long time.

VERONICA woke alone. Martine stood by the bed as usual, a maid and a breakfast tray close by. Veronica pushed herself upright, disappointment hollowing her stomach as she blinked in the bright morning light.

She ran her hand over Raj’s side of the bed, came away cold. He’d been gone for a long time.

Ridiculously, she thought of their fiction—which was no longer fiction, and yet her lover had left her. Perhaps he didn’t want to be seen with her after all.

The thought made her head throb.

Instead, she ate her breakfast, listened to Martine detail her morning appointments and took a shower. She dressed carefully in a bright pink cashmere sweater dress, deciding at the last minute to be a little naughty and pulling on tall, suede boots to complement it.

Then she brushed her hair into a thick ponytail and went to face the day.

She drew up short when she entered the living area to find Brady.

And Raj, she realized. He stood by the window, looking all dark and broody and distant.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” she said, her heart beginning to throb as Raj turned toward her. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking. His expression was hooded, his feelings a mystery to her.

Part of her cried out in protest. How could he have made love to her the way he had and be so distant now? How could he not look at her with heat simmering in his eyes? She felt as if her feelings must be written all over her face, and yet he was as unreadable as stone.

She shot a glance at Brady. He was oblivious to the undercurrents, thank God. He walked over and gave her a hug, then took her by the hand and led her to the couch.

“You need to sit down, Veronica,” he said.

The first prickles of alarm dotted her skin.

“What’s going on?” Her gaze slewed from Brady to Raj.

“I’m sorry, Veronica,” Raj said, his sexy voice so impartial and cool. Not at all the voice of the man who’d whispered in her ear last night. Who’d told her she was beautiful and amazing as he’d thrust deep inside her.

Her heart squeezed tight at the memory. She wanted that man back, the one who was tender and loving and worshipped her body so beautifully that he’d given her back something of herself. He’d made her feel as if she deserved to be treated special. As if, for a short while, she wasn’t a horrible woman who’d lost her child because she’d been careless.

He’d made her feel whole.

“There’s been a coup in Aliz,” he continued. “The chief of police has seized all the government buildings in the capital. He’s calling for your ouster and the restoration of the former president.”

“He can’t do that,” she said numbly. But he could. He had. She rose, her limbs shaking with sudden fury. “I won’t let him.”

“Sweetie,” Brady said, but she held her hand up to silence him.

Raj, however, did not remain silent.

“I know what you’re thinking. But it’s too dangerous for you to return. You need to remain here.”

“And do what?” she demanded, fury swirling inside. “Do nothing?” She shook her head. “I can’t sit by and let them get away with this. I won’t.”

Raj’s eyes flashed. “They won’t get away with it,” he said. “But it’ll take time to sort it out. In the meantime, you’re in danger, especially if you try to return to Aliz.”