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

“Find who?” she asked, quaking inside.

He reached out and skimmed a finger along her cheek. “The man who will love you the way you want to be loved.”

HE SHOULD have left her alone, should have let her nurture her anger with him and left it at that. He shouldn’t have planned to have dinner with her, shouldn’t have asked her to dress up for him, and shouldn’t have sat for more than an hour talking with her about anything and everything, listening to her bright laughter and falling just a little more under her spell with every word.

Raj shook his head as he stood on the terrace and let the wind whip through his clothes. It was hot and humid, but the breeze took it all away, for a short time anyway.

Why couldn’t he simply leave well enough alone? He’d hurt her when he’d taken her body, and he’d hurt her when he’d betrayed her trust and brought her to Goa against her will. Tonight, he’d hurt her again when he’d been unwilling to tell her why he didn’t feel at home anywhere, why he couldn’t settle into a family life.

Things with Veronica had gotten out of control much too quickly. He’d broken his own code of conduct when he’d gotten involved with her, and he was willing to break it again for one more night in her arms. The truth was that he’d sell his soul for one more night with her.

He wasn’t proud of it, but there it was.

She wasn’t like other women. He’d had relationships, some lasting for several months as he’d stayed put in one location or another, but he’d never felt as if his skin was itching on the inside, as if only one woman could soothe the restlessness that plagued him.

It was simply the circumstances of their meeting, he told himself. He’d expected a spoiled, useless brat who’d somehow fooled an entire nation—but he’d found a thoughtful, intelligent woman who hadn’t led a perfect life, but who wanted very much to do a perfect job.

He admired that. Admired her. Two days ago, he’d have never thought that possible.

She’d experienced great sorrow in her life, but she hadn’t let it beat her down. Her spirit was unbroken, though perhaps sorely tested.

She’d trusted him, in more ways than one, and he’d broken that trust. He didn’t like the way that made him feel.

With a curse, Raj strode into the house and to her bedroom door. She’d only been gone for a half an hour or so. She might be in bed, but he would bet she was still awake. He knocked softly.

When she didn’t answer, he knocked again, more loudly. Still nothing.

His heart kicked up. There was nowhere she could go really. They weren’t on an island, but there was nothing for miles—and he did have security on the perimeter. He’d given her the illusion of complete freedom, but he wasn’t so incautious as to leave her unguarded.

Even here.

With a curse, he pushed on the handle … and the door swung inward. The doors to the terrace were wide-open, the white curtains blowing in the breeze. She wasn’t in bed, or in the en suite bath. He slipped out onto the terrace—a different terrace than the one they’d had dinner on, facing a different direction—but she wasn’t there, either.

She was still on the premises, or security would have alerted him. He eyed the path that sloped down to the beach and knew instinctively where she’d gone.

Heart lodging in his throat, he took the path at a run and skidded down the hill. Veronica was not so stupid as to try and escape, was she? Because though she wouldn’t get away, she might very well harm herself in the process.

And he couldn’t stand it if anything happened to her.

At the bottom of the hill, the path abruptly ended in sand. He stood, looking in both directions, his ears straining to hear anything over the sound of the sea caressing the shore. A flash of something caught his eye and he took off in that direction.

He was only a few feet away when he heard singing, and he crashed to a halt. Relief flooded him as she turned her head, the moonlight catching her blond hair.

“Veronica,” he said, and the singing stopped.

“I couldn’t sleep.” She turned to face him, her pale arms wrapped around her chest. “How about you?”

He wanted to laugh in agreement, and he wanted to snatch her into his arms and hold her tight. “You’re still in your evening gown,” he said, noticing with a jolt the way her creamy thigh split through the fabric as she took a step forward. Her feet were bare, her legs so long and perfect. He could still feel them wrapped around his waist, could feel how they’d trembled and stiffened when he’d brought her to orgasm.

He wanted that again.

“It doesn’t matter,” she said.

“I’m sorry.” It was the thing he’d wanted to say, the reason he’d gone to her room in the first place.

“For what, Raj?” Her voice sounded tremulous, as if she were trying very hard not to allow any emotion to escape.

“For everything,” he said. “For bringing you here. For making love to you—”

She laughed, the sound bitter. “Of course,” she said, “of course. Because it would be better if you had not done so, correct? I corrupted you, corrupted your squeaky-clean morals—”

“Stop it,” he said harshly. “I made love to you because I wanted to. But I shouldn’t have been so weak. I should have resisted.”

“Yes, of course.” She turned toward the sea again, but he could see the lone tear that slid down her cheek. “I’m not the sort of woman a man resists, am I? But I am the sort he regrets.”

“I don’t regret it,” he growled. But he did. He regretted that he’d been so weak in the first place, that he’d been unable to resist and that he’d hurt her in the process.

“Don’t bother explaining,” she said. “I understand.”

He reached for her, his fingers closing around her bare arm. She was delicate, like spun glass in his hand. He feared that if he held her too tightly, she’d break.

“You understand nothing,” he said, turning her to face him. He was careful not to pull her closer, though he wanted to.

“Oh, Raj,” she said, her voice carrying to him on the sea-scented breeze, “I’m not sure either one of us understand.”

“Then tell me what I need to know,” he replied. Because he very much wanted to know what made her tick. There was the baby, her loss—and yet there was more. He wanted to know everything, though a small voice told him it wasn’t a good idea.

The less he knew, the better in the end.

Her hand came up, her fingers sliding along his jaw. Her touch was like fire, like ice. She burned him, and he wanted nothing more than to keep burning.

“I’m so angry with you,” she said, “and yet I can’t help but want you, too. Why is that? Why can’t I resist you?”

Her admission sent a current of hot possessiveness through him. His body hardened. He turned his head, kissed her palm. She did not pull away. Her sky-blue eyes sparkled in the night, diamond-tipped with tears.

He had done that to her. But no matter how much he wanted her just now, he couldn’t make her cry again. Because she would. He would walk away in the end, and she would cry.

And he didn’t want that. Somehow, he had to find the strength to let her go.

Before this got any more complicated than it already was.

“I only want what’s best for you, Veronica,” he said. “If I had let you go to Aliz and something happened, I would never forgive myself.”

Her laugh was strangled. “My God, you sound just like my father.” Her hand dropped and her head tilted back. Her gaze sparkled up at him. “He kept me locked up until I was eighteen, until I was old enough to leave home and do what I wanted to do. His excuse was that he loved me. And he did, I know that. But it was horrible, Raj, horrible to be kept prisoner to someone else’s fears for so long.”