Before she could speak, Rafiq grasped her hand. “Come.”
He led her through a pair of French doors into a darkened room. A flick of a switch and dim lighting washed the room, revealing a king-size bed in a sumptuously decorated room.
Tiffany hesitated for a microsecond as Rafiq shrugged off his shirt. Then he turned her in his arms and the moment of cool analysis was gone.
Her wide, elasticized belt gave…. She heard something fall, and dismissed it. The zip on the back of her borrowed dress rasped down. His hands closed over the shoulder straps and eased them down her arms along with the tiny, dainty bag looped around her wrist. She didn’t have any time to feel exposed … or naked. Only relief that the tight dress was gone. Rafiq drew her against his bare torso, his skin smooth and warm against hers.
His fingers tangled in her hair, before moving in small circles down her back, setting flame to each inch of flesh he massaged.
Tiffany flung her head back. A moan escaped. Desire flared uncontrollably within her and her nipples peaked beneath the modest black bra she wore. She didn’t even feel Rafiq loosen the back before the plain bra gave and he removed it, tossing it over the bed end. Then he was on his knees in front of her, easing her heels off, sliding the cotton briefs down her legs, his touch trailing fire down the insides of her thighs.
She started to shake.
The explosive hunger that consumed her was unfamiliar. Powerful. Incredible. A new experience. He buried his face in her belly. Goose bumps broke out over her skin as sensation shook her to her soul. Her hands clutched at his hair, the texture rough as she closed her fingers over the short strands.
“I’m going to pleasure you—but we’re not going to make love,” he murmured.
Relief, instantly followed by a crazy kind of disappointment spread through her. “Why won’t we make love?”
Did he think he was too good for her?
“I’m not … equipped.”
“Equipped?” Then it struck her what he meant. “Oh.”
The next thought was that if he didn’t carry condoms around with him, then he didn’t do casual sex, either. It made her almost start to like the man who had her in such a sweat.
Perversely, it made her want him to make love to her.
Tiffany reached for the puddle of her dress on the floor and found her bag. Opening it she extracted the condom that Renate had stuck in. “I only have one.”
“Better than nothing,” he growled.
Then he had her on the bed and everything started to move very fast. She closed her eyes as his mouth teased her nipple, arousing sensations she’d never experienced. A wild, keening sound broke from her throat as his teeth teased her burgeoning flesh. His hands were everywhere…. He knew exactly what to do to reduce her to a state of quivering arousal. Her body turned fluid. It seemed to know exactly what he wanted … how to respond to his every move.
When he finally moved over her, her legs parted. Opening her eyes, she glimpsed the tense line of his jaw, the fullness of a bottom lip softened by passion. He shifted into the space between her legs, his body so male, so unfamiliar against her own. He moved his hips, and Tiffany tensed, fighting the instinct to resist.
The pressure. Her breath caught in the back of her throat. He wasn’t going to fit. Staring at the mouth that had wreaked so much pleasure, she waited uncertainly. Suddenly her body gave, and the pressure eased. The shudders subsided. Her heart expanded as he sank forward. A glow of warmth swept her. Her hands fluttered along the indent of his spine as a powerful, primal emotion swept her.
Tiffany thought she was going to cry with joy, at the beauty of it all.
The warmth spiraled into a fierce, desperate heat as he moved within her. As the friction built, she could feel herself straining to reach a place she’d never been. Her body tightened, no longer hers, taken over by the passion that ripped through her.
“Relax,” he whispered in her ear. “Let it happen.”
She didn’t know what he was talking about. Yet the warmth of his breath against her ear caused a fresh wave of shivers to race up and down her spine, spreading out along every inch of her skin.
This time she didn’t fight the sensation. She allowed it to sweep her away. Pleasure soared.
He grew still. Then he moved, his body driving in quick thrusts into hers, his breath fast.
A cry of shock caught in her throat as her body convulsed. Waves of heat broke, rippling through her, a tide of inexorable sensation that left her limp.
Tiffany opened her eyes and blinked against bright sunlight.
Disorientation was quickly followed by a suffocating sense of dread. What had she done? Slowly, she turned her head against the plump oversized pillow.
The space beside her in the giant king-size bed was empty. Rafiq was already awake … and out of the bed. With any luck he’d stay closeted in the bathroom until she could escape. Except she could hear no sound. Perhaps he’d gone to have breakfast … a swim … to work out. Anything.
Tiffany didn’t care so long as she didn’t have to confront him.
A movement drew her gaze to the floor-to-ceiling windows where the drapes had already been thrown back. Squinting against the gauze-filtered sunlight, Tiffany made out the dark shadow of a backlit figure.
Rafiq.
She shifted and he must’ve heard the movement, because he wheeled around and spoke. “You’re awake.”
Too late to squeeze her eyelids shut and fake sleep.
“Yes.” She offered him a tremulous smile, and tried to read his expression, but bright light behind him frustrated her attempt.
“Good.”
Was it? She wasn’t so sure. He moved closer and came into focus. The passionate lover from last night’s dark, delicious world had vanished. Replaced by the aloof man she’d met—was it only the evening before?
Tiffany shuddered.
“You’re already dressed.” Did she have to sound so plaintive?
He shrugged. “I have a busy day planned.”
And it was time for her to make herself scarce.
He didn’t need to speak the words out loud. It was painfully obvious.
But she had no intention of getting out of bed with him standing less than three feet away. She was naked under the sheet. And he was impeccably, immaculately dressed. She’d exposed more of herself than she’d ever intended, and she had no one but herself to blame. He would not see another inch of her body. A fresh flush of humiliation scorched her at the memory of what had passed between them last night.
Tiffany raised her chin and bravely met his granite gaze. “So why are you still here?”
“I’ve been waiting for you to awaken.”
The harsh features that had been aflame with desire last night had reverted to keep-out coldness. Any hope that he’d wanted to tell her something momentous withered. Her stomach balled into a tight knot.
“Why?”
He reached into his jacket pocket.
His fist uncurled. A cell phone lay there—slim and silent.
Tiffany frowned, trying to make sense of the tension that vibrated from him. And what it had to do with her. “That’s Renate’s phone. I slipped it into my belt—”
“You took pictures last night.”
Oh. Darn. She’d forgotten all about that. “I meant to delete—”
“Yes.”