hands lower on her back, pressing her to him.
It seemed his body didn't distinguish between a woman he wanted and one he didn't. She felt him hard against her belly. What would it be like to have him in her hand? To touch him the way only his lovers did? The thought made her even wetter than she was already.
His fingers slipped down her shoulder, taking the strap of her dress with them. Her heart went wild—what was happening? Was he actually undressing her? She shivered out of pure hope.
Then the whole car jostled, knocking her sideways and breaking the kiss. She slammed her hand against the ceiling to balance herself, to keep from being dumped on the floor. He steadied her, his hands no longer reaching for her, but merely supporting her waist.
The enchanted moment ended, cruelly broken. Gone forever.
"I think," he said, coolly. "That will do nicely."
She swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
A tsunami of awkwardness pummeled her. She was all clumsy legs and gangly arms, tangled and snarled up in him. Her lipstick had to be smudged, her hair snagged into knots. He, however, looked flawless. In control.
Unlike him, she had lost every gram of control she'd ever possessed. He'd felt her starting to slip and taken pity on her, cutting off the kiss before she went over the edge.
She scrambled back to her side of the seat and refastened her seatbelt. She never should have taken it off in the first place.
Chapter Four
Javad cursed himself for a fool. What had he been doing? He'd been ready to rip off that flesh-colored dress and thrust himself into her body without regard for time or place. She was a virgin and his friend, and he'd nearly taken her in the back seat of a car.
He had never been so close to the edge before. Never felt so out of control, so wild for a woman. He'd had plenty of discreet arrangements, certainly. He had needs, like the next man. But that was all his affairs were, a way to fulfill his needs.
Something was different here. He didn't think it was the fact she was untouched. Something else. But the only difference between Arya and any other woman was... Well, that she was Arya . He knew and cared about her. She saw things he did not wish to show. She had been a vital part of his life since that night she'd given him the headache pills.
He felt... He searched for an appropriate word... protective of her, though after the passion in her kiss, he could no longer think of her with his previous brotherly affection. His cock was involved now. It had made its desires known.
Arya was too good for Darius. That had always been clear. In fact, he didn't know a man worthy enough for her. Yet, she had determined that she would bed someone, and from that kiss, he had no doubt she would. She had pent-up passion aching for release.
He knew exactly who he wanted to release it. He could have her, some darkness inside his skull whispered, in a voice like hot desert wind. He could introduce her to carnal pleasures, pleasing himself in the process.
He blinked at the alien thought. Where had that come from? Yet now that it had entered his mind, the idea had set up camp.
He watched her try to concentrate on the night scenery passing by the window. A group of old men drinking tea at a café. A store owner shutting the door for the night. He knew she saw none of it. Her cheeks still flamed with heat, though she attempted to look calm, even bored.
The voice that had blown through his mind again urged that he could possess her. Javad forced it into silence.
He would bed her, he decided. Out of principle, of course. No other reason. He would ensure she had a memory to savor. A man would do such a reasonable and logical thing for a friend like Arya.
His only regret was that he had but one night to teach her. Some other man would introduce her to the rest of her lessons. Her husband, perhaps. Certainly not Zakharias. After her appearance tonight, she would find herself with many
It seemed his body didn't distinguish between a woman he wanted and one he didn't. She felt him hard against her belly. What would it be like to have him in her hand? To touch him the way only his lovers did? The thought made her even wetter than she was already.
His fingers slipped down her shoulder, taking the strap of her dress with them. Her heart went wild—what was happening? Was he actually undressing her? She shivered out of pure hope.
Then the whole car jostled, knocking her sideways and breaking the kiss. She slammed her hand against the ceiling to balance herself, to keep from being dumped on the floor. He steadied her, his hands no longer reaching for her, but merely supporting her waist.
The enchanted moment ended, cruelly broken. Gone forever.
"I think," he said, coolly. "That will do nicely."
She swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. Her heart pounded against her ribs.
A tsunami of awkwardness pummeled her. She was all clumsy legs and gangly arms, tangled and snarled up in him. Her lipstick had to be smudged, her hair snagged into knots. He, however, looked flawless. In control.
Unlike him, she had lost every gram of control she'd ever possessed. He'd felt her starting to slip and taken pity on her, cutting off the kiss before she went over the edge.
She scrambled back to her side of the seat and refastened her seatbelt. She never should have taken it off in the first place.
Chapter Four
Javad cursed himself for a fool. What had he been doing? He'd been ready to rip off that flesh-colored dress and thrust himself into her body without regard for time or place. She was a virgin and his friend, and he'd nearly taken her in the back seat of a car.
He had never been so close to the edge before. Never felt so out of control, so wild for a woman. He'd had plenty of discreet arrangements, certainly. He had needs, like the next man. But that was all his affairs were, a way to fulfill his needs.
Something was different here. He didn't think it was the fact she was untouched. Something else. But the only difference between Arya and any other woman was... Well, that she was Arya . He knew and cared about her. She saw things he did not wish to show. She had been a vital part of his life since that night she'd given him the headache pills.
He felt... He searched for an appropriate word... protective of her, though after the passion in her kiss, he could no longer think of her with his previous brotherly affection. His cock was involved now. It had made its desires known.
Arya was too good for Darius. That had always been clear. In fact, he didn't know a man worthy enough for her. Yet, she had determined that she would bed someone, and from that kiss, he had no doubt she would. She had pent-up passion aching for release.
He knew exactly who he wanted to release it. He could have her, some darkness inside his skull whispered, in a voice like hot desert wind. He could introduce her to carnal pleasures, pleasing himself in the process.
He blinked at the alien thought. Where had that come from? Yet now that it had entered his mind, the idea had set up camp.
He watched her try to concentrate on the night scenery passing by the window. A group of old men drinking tea at a café. A store owner shutting the door for the night. He knew she saw none of it. Her cheeks still flamed with heat, though she attempted to look calm, even bored.
The voice that had blown through his mind again urged that he could possess her. Javad forced it into silence.
He would bed her, he decided. Out of principle, of course. No other reason. He would ensure she had a memory to savor. A man would do such a reasonable and logical thing for a friend like Arya.
His only regret was that he had but one night to teach her. Some other man would introduce her to the rest of her lessons. Her husband, perhaps. Certainly not Zakharias. After her appearance tonight, she would find herself with many
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