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

So much about her made sense now. Her wild life, her rebellion, her refusal to take a backseat while someone else steered the cart. She wanted a say because she was frightened of giving up control. He could understand that. Could empathize with it. He thought of her last night, on the plane, and felt guilty.

“This isn’t the same,” he said gently—justifying his actions, yes, but also because it was true. “There is a real threat to your safety, especially if you return to Aliz while it’s in chaos.”

She pushed a lock of hair that had blown into her face back over her shoulder. Her brows were pinched together, her eyes narrowed.

“I know that,” she said finally. “I was angry with you—I’m still angry that you didn’t consult me—but I know you did what I asked for when I accepted your help.”

“Your safety is my priority, Veronica. No matter how angry I make you, or how much you might hate me for it.”

She shook her head, looked away. “I don’t hate you. Though it might be easier if I did.” She drew in a long breath. “You kept me safe, and you did so when I was determined to put myself—and my people—in danger.”

“I’d do it again, if the circumstances were the same.”

“I know that, too.” Her head dropped as she fixed her gaze on the sand at her feet. He wanted to pull her close and kiss the top of her head, but he did not do so. He stood with arms hanging at his sides.

He felt … useless in some ways. He’d brought her here, but he hadn’t yet found who’d sent her the note or placed the doll on her bed. She was safe, but for how long? If her government was restored and she returned to Aliz, then what?

She wouldn’t need him anymore. He would never see her again, except as a photograph in a newspaper.

She looked up, her eyes shining with unshed tears. “I wish I’d met you earlier, under different circumstances. Maybe neither of us would have any regrets then.”

He couldn’t stop himself from reaching out and lifting a strand of her hair. He loved the silken feel of it, the bright pale color. In the moonlight, it hung down her back like ropes of gossamer ribbon.

“Life is filled with regrets,” he said.

He couldn’t imagine not being able to touch her like this. He didn’t want to imagine it.

She let out a deep sigh that slashed into his control. “Oh, Raj, if we don’t learn from our mistakes, then what is the point?” He froze as she reached for him, her hand wrapping around the back of his neck while the other gripped his arm to steady herself as she stood on tiptoe.

He didn’t resist as she pulled him down to her, didn’t resist as her lips brushed his. He didn’t close his eyes because he wanted to see her face while she kissed him. Her lashes dipped down, fanning long and silky beneath her eyes as her mouth skimmed across his.

The pressure was light, so light. Unbearable. He wanted to crush her to him, wanted to slide his tongue between her lips and feel her response.

“It’s too late,” she whispered against his mouth a moment later. “As you’ve pointed out more than once, you aren’t the right man.”

She took a step backward, breaking the contact, and then turned and started down the beach. He watched her as she found the path back up to the house, his heart a lead weight in his chest. He’d wanted her to realize the truth, hadn’t he?

She had finally done so. And he wanted to howl.

Veronica found her way blindly up the side of the hill, then stumbled into her room and slapped the doors closed. Tears pricked her eyes. She was tired of fighting them, so she let them fall.

She’d lied. She’d stood there and lied to him when she’d told him he wasn’t the right man. Because he was the man her heart wanted, though she tried to deny it. She’d realized it tonight, and she’d been running from the truth of it when she’d gone down to the beach.

How could she be so stupid? How could she have allowed herself to fall for him?

It was too soon.

He was too much.

He stunned her, quite simply. He was insightful, tender and tough. He made her feel safe. He’d even made her feel loved, though she knew he didn’t love her.

But he was also wild, untamable. She’d known it, and yet she’d insisted on lying in the tiger’s jaws. When he chewed her up and spit her out, she had no one to blame but herself. She stood in the middle of the room, tears falling as she dashed them angrily away, and wanted to scream. She’d been just fine until he’d come into her life! She’d been getting through the days, trying to heal, trying to live.

He’d ripped everything open again, made her feel, made her ache and want and need and love.

After a while, Veronica went into the bathroom and washed her face with cold water. Then she stripped off her gown and dropped it on the bed.

The bed was huge, a solid carved four-poster with white filmy netting hanging from it—and no way was she staying here tonight. No way was she sleeping in this giant bed, with Raj in the same house, knowing she couldn’t go to him.

Knowing he would not come to her.

Veronica found a thin silk robe in her luggage and wrapped it around herself. Then she slipped into the hallway and toward the front doors. She would go down to the cottages, find Martine’s quarters and sleep there tonight. If she were not under the same roof with Raj, she could breathe again. She could think and feel and not ache so much.

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