I had always been unnaturally perceptive and attuned to people’s emotions in a way that their disposition affected me as much as it touched them. With Charlotte, that awareness was even sharper. The closer I got to her, the more attuned I became.
“You seem impatient,” I said.
“You wish.” She managed a smile, but it didn’t come naturally. “I am not.”
“You know, I can feel you, and you are definitely impatient.”
“And if you feel me so well, can you feel me starving?”
“I think I’ve just heard your stomach growl, yes.”
Laughing, I decided to drop the inquiry, but for a relationship between us to work, we both needed to learn to communicate. I valued, almost craved, complete openness. I wasn’t going to allow Charlotte to keep anything festering in her mind.
“Can I ask where we are going?”
“On a date. Dinner and a movie. The usual.”
I retained control of myself, but I had my own nerves kneading me from the inside out. It wasn’t going to be the usual—not for me. I rarely actually dated, and I had definitely never done with another woman what I was about to do with Charlotte.
“And we’re going to dine on Mars?” Her attempt at a joke was as nervous as the glint in her eyes.
“Are you finally admitting that you’re impatient?”
“Maybe I’m just hungry.”
Evasion was never going to work with me. I placed my hand on Charlotte’s knee and clutched it until I was sure I had her attention.
“Talk to me, Charlotte.”
She watched me briefly before resuming her fascinated view of the surrounding landscape. The edgy, bashful woman next to me was such a huge difference from the poised commandant at the office. I smiled encouragingly, and she sighed, defeated, even a little embarrassed.
“I haven’t done this in a long while.”
The confession momentarily staggered me. With big brown eyes that dug deep into my soul, Charlotte assessed my reaction.
“I can’t say I regret it.” I gave her my widest, most wicked smile.
It was so soon, and yet, I couldn’t envision Charlotte with another man, his arms around her supple body, his lips caressing her smooth skin. I shuddered with disgust and barely contained rage.
By the time I finally parked the car in a glade at the back of the house, the sun was setting. I rounded the Jaguar, helped Charlotte out, then pulled her closer to me, pleased when her body softened into my side.
The house had been built by my grandfather in a clearing and was surrounded by countless different species of trees that formed a private ambit all around. A fantasy of leaves colored from shades of dark green to greenish yellow and stark red shaped one massive waltzing crown that spread far and wide.
Some feet away from the spot I had parked the car, there was a breach in the curtain of trees. I tugged on Charlotte’s hand and led her there, enjoying immensely the surprise written on her face. We followed a short path through the trees that led to the manicured back lawn of my house.
I tensed slightly then took comfort in caressing her hand with my thumb. This was my most private space, my safest shelter. This was the place where, in its remoteness and loneliness, I had screamed my frustrations and reveled in my successes. So her reaction was nervously anticipated.
Charlotte stared at the two-story house in awe, having yet to speak. The wall facing us, which represented the backside of the house, was entirely made of glass. Inside, the lights were on just like I had left them, displaying the living room. Upstairs, bathed in orange spotlights was the bedroom with its adjacent bathroom and a small sitting area. It was a simple house yet sumptuous in its simplicity.
“Let’s give you the tour,” I whispered then kissed her temple.
I dragged her forward, and she moved like a puppet in my arms. Her eyes grew wider with confusion when, instead of inviting her inside, I guided her around the corner of the house. There was something more I wanted to show her, something that had a greater significance than the house itself.
When the artificial pond came into view, Charlotte gasped and covered her mouth with her tiny hand. The small lake was oval-shaped and the size of a tennis court, guarded by bushes of camellias. Between the purple red shades of the sunset and the wildly-colored camellias, the view held an intoxicating combination.
“Now I think it’s time for you to say something.” I smiled nervously.
“I—”
“Maybe you should eat first. I promise I won’t poison you. I am a pretty good cook.”
“It’s beautiful. It’s amazing.”
She had trouble finding her words, and so did I. The pond was a monument to love itself, built by my grandfather for his wife as an homage to her devotion and dedication, a safe place where, no matter how big the quarrel, they buried the hatchet.
Charlotte didn’t know it, but showing her this house was my way of letting her in, of trusting her with a part of me I had never truly trusted anyone with before.
“I’m glad you like it. I thought it would be more special than a restaurant.”
“It is,” she agreed.
I walked to her until our chests brushed and nothing separated us. The look of total fascination in her molten eyes was my undoing. I bent and took her mouth in a slow, questing kiss.
When her hands cupped my face, and she moaned against my lips, I groaned and tightened my hold on her waist. My intentions had been limited to having dinner and spending a quiet, comfortable night together, but as usual, Charlotte was too much of a temptation. If she enticed me this way, I was not going to be held responsible for my actions.
“After you,” I whispered in her ear. The way she trembled only excited me more.
It was chillier than usual for this time of year, so I showed Charlotte inside, my hand safely pressed against her lower back. Under the warm spotlights, in my home, with her big eyes peeking shyly at me, she was delicious.
The living room was dominated by a huge U-shaped sofa with a glass table in front, a fireplace on the far wall, and a big flat screen perched above it. I led Charlotte to the left side of the room where a rectangular table of six formed the dining space.
Pulling out her chair, I waited until she sat, then I disappeared into the kitchen to bring our food. As I set the table, her eyes skimmed me appreciatively.
I winked. She blushed.
“Tell me what you are thinking.”
I sat to her left, pushing my chair close enough to become an extension of hers. When she didn’t speak, my fingers enclosed her cold hand. Uncertainly, she glanced at me then took a sip of water as if hunting for courage.
“Charlotte, the fact that you came here doesn’t mean we have to sleep together.”
My in-depth scrutiny made her squirm in her seat. When my stern expression dissolved into a teeth-revealing grin, Charlotte relaxed as well.
Pouring us red wine, I handed her a glass then sipped from mine, watching her over the brim with the same shameless smile that I couldn’t suppress.
“I only wish I had known I would pay you a visit.” Her voice was low, feminine, and delectable.
“You mean to say that you wished you had known you would come into the wolf’s lair?”
She finally managed a smile and started ever so slowly a soothing pattern of stroking my hand with her thumb. She didn’t loosen up easily, and I suspected she didn’t want to try that with everybody, which honored me even more, but when she did cast off her inhibitions, she transformed into a marvelously alluring woman. If she let me, I wanted to cast off all her inhibitions until none remained.
“Is this your house?” Her voice sounded suspicious, and her brows knit infinitesimally. “There’s a completely different address in your folder.”
“Yes, it’s my house. My grandfather built it. Isaac sold it after he died, but I managed to repurchase it a few years ago.”
“Your grandfather built it?”
“My maternal grandfathe
r. He was an architect. He loved it here and had many dreams regarding the place. When he was alive, the house was always full of guests, but now, unfortunately, it is mostly empty.”
“I bet you bring all your girlfriends here, so it can’t be that empty.”
She brought the wine glass to her lips and sipped slowly, her eyes firmly, stubbornly even, directed forward while mine burned holes through her skin.
She was fishing for information, but the uncertainty in her voice displeased me nonetheless. I leaned in until my lips almost glided across her cheek.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Charlotte. You are the first woman to come here since I bought the house.”
“Oh...” she breathed and quickly looked away. “Isaac doesn’t know about it, does he?”
“No, he doesn’t.”
I smiled at her brusque attempt to change the subject. I was a very persistent man, which she already knew. Nobody dodged me unless I allowed it.
“You’re unbelievable. I wish I had the nerve to defy my father like this. I envy you.”
“I promise I’ll help you.”
I gave her a wicked grin, just as innumerable questions flooded into my head. I wanted to know about her family and her childhood, about her dearest memories and worst fears. I wanted to know Charlotte Burton inside and out.
“But we are not going to talk about our fathers. I want to talk about us.”
Evasion was definitely never going to be allowed between us. My fingers slowly traced the inside of her wrist until I reached the inside of her elbow. Under my touch, her temperature increased, and her breath caught.
My hand tightened around her forearm, and her eyes closed in capitulation—capitulation to her own yearning.
Chapter 14
Charlotte
I was afraid to open my eyes. I was afraid of what Marcus made me feel, of the reactions his touch triggered. When I finally dared to peel my eyelids open, Marcus was a breath away, his gaze searching me wildly, greedily, demolishing all my attempts to erect a protective barrier between us. With Marcus, there were going to be no barriers. It scared me. It made me crave it.
“I respect you, Charlotte.”
In the depths of his eyes, there was a fire burning slowly, spreading even into his low, seductive voice. He was playing with my mind, conquering my senses, and defeating my resistance.
“I respect your professionalism. I respect your workplace, and I am humbled by your intention of protecting me from my father. I will comply with your rules at work, but I want you. I want you, and I am not willing to give you up.”
“Why? Why me?”
Marcus smiled patiently, with an I-expected-your-question look. His lips were parted in invitation. His fingers still trailed patterns on the inside of my forearm, causing goosebumps to appear on my skin and a warm, frightening sensation in the pit of my stomach. I forced myself to glance at the fading bruise on his forehead, but he wasn’t going to be deterred. He wanted my attention, and he made sure he had it.
“Charlotte,” he called softly and waited until my eyes once again met his. He uttered my name in a way that made my insides clench and my heart flutter in my chest. I suspected he was acutely aware of his effect on me, while I had no idea if I had any effect on him at all. That was frustrating. “Why do we crave chocolate, for instance?”
“Because we like the taste.”
“But I don’t know how you taste. And I still want you.”
His words and his voice made me lightheaded. I gripped the glass of wine a little too forcefully, and the liquid almost sloshed over the rim. I drank what was left, but the alcohol didn’t provide any more courage than I’d had before.
Marcus King was an infuriatingly puzzling man. At times, he could be annoying, persistent, amusing, then he turned lethally determined and stunningly intimidating.
“Because it is a forbidden pleasure,” I tried again, my voice trembling. Marcus grinned and almost nodded, but then he continued.
“There’s no rational explanation, but we want it nonetheless. Maybe it is the taste, or maybe it is the dark, sensual promise it provides. Maybe it is its allure that entangles us, the sweet, rich aroma hidden beyond dark and impenetrable layers. Maybe it’s the thrill of diving past those thick layers and discovering a unique taste, something nobody else can claim.”
We both knew he wasn’t talking about chocolate anymore. He eyed me with unconcealed ferocity, and instead of scaring me, it fascinated me. Nobody had looked at me in such a possessive manner before. I had never allowed anybody that close, not like Marcus seemed to want. His intensity almost flung me off a high cliff. I was afraid of the fall, of not being caught.
“I don’t have a reason why I want you, or maybe I have thousands. I only know that I want to discover you. Will you let me, sugar?”
For once, his endearment didn’t bother me. It was like an arrow that had been purposefully shot and had just met its target. I gasped and bit my lower lip while he waited expectantly. Anticipation made his eyes burn brighter—the predator in him was ready to seize the prey, but was I really prey if I was willingly yielding?
“Yes.”
I was in his lap then, and his hands were all over me. With formality and politeness gone, Marcus was an unleashed primal creature. His right arm, wrapped around my waist, kept me still and pressed to his chest while his left hand was clenched in my hair, securing my head for his ceaseless ambush.
He kissed me with the turbulence of a storm and the heat of the scorching sun. Marcus was storm and fire combined, and I was ensnared by him. He gave me no escape, and I didn’t want to find one. So I let myself be daring.
My tongue tangled with his, and my hands ducked beneath the collar of his shirt. Under my fingertips, his skin felt satiny and warm, and the hard muscles it protected were a masculine lure to feminine senses.
His previous words kept singing in my mind. The fact that you came here doesn’t mean we have to sleep together. He hadn’t excluded the prospect altogether. And suddenly, neither did I.
Instincts I had neglected for so long, desires I had stifled out of apprehension, came rushing to roaring life. The more I touched him, the more I wanted to continue. It was when my hands clasped his sides that he groaned and abruptly but reluctantly broke our kiss.
“Be gentle, Charlotte,” he cautioned, but there was a smile lighting his expression.
“You keep saying that,” I teased, but my tone quickly turned serious. “When I think, it should be me asking you to be gentle.”
“I can go at your speed whenever you need me to.”
“No.” I shook my head adamantly, surprising us both. “I want to meet you halfway.”
The wide, youthful smile he gave me was worth anything, even going against the shrilling voice in my head, warning me to be prudent.
“You are very brave, Charlotte.” Gently, teasingly, he caught my earlobe between his teeth and tugged only enough to load my body with awareness, as if I could be anything but aware of him. “I am not worth your bravery, but I want you nonetheless. You are my temptation.”
“Then maybe you should keep your distance. I wouldn’t want to lead you into temptation.”
He laughed gloriously at my little joke. It was Marcus who was leading me into temptation. I watched him, transfixed, as he grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled our glasses. The muscles in his forearm constricted, and the veins stood out in mouthwatering fashion.
“Please do.”
He put the bottle back on the table with an audible clink, and his eyes flashed to me. Before his lips managed to encase mine yet again, I put my hands flat on his chest and stopped him. He had a heady effect on me, especially when he started kissing me so skillfully, but like him, I wasn’t easily deterred. I arched an eyebrow and traced the left side of his body with my index finger, from the still visible bruise on his forehead to his hip.
“I want to know how badly you were injured. Evidently, you still live with the outcome of the accident.
”
“Oh my, are you asking me to undress for you, Miss Burton?”
I almost choked on my wine and flushed a darker red than the liquid in my glass.
Despite his delighted grin, he took pity on me and didn’t prolong my embarrassment. Instead, he took my hand in his and carefully placed it under his shirt while slowly pulling the material up so it revealed wide stretches of brown, purple, and greenish bruises against appetizingly tanned skin. At the sight of his battered torso and obviously pained expression, I winced too. I had expected him to be a little bruised up, but underneath the abused flesh, there were actual injuries.
“This looks awful.”
“Falling off a speeding motorcycle tends to do that. But it’s healing now.”
His smile didn’t make me feel any better. This was an injury he would recover from, but what if it had been worse? I pressed my hand flat against his many bruises, hearing his nervous intake of breath, then I sighed.
“I’m alright now, Charlotte.”
His arms went around my waist, but the thoughts whirling in my head and the danger his bruises represented didn’t reassure me at all.
“What you do—is dangerous.”
I couldn’t ask him to stop. I couldn’t ask him to give up something he truly loved, but every instinct in my body screamed exactly that. Could I let myself be involved with someone who deliberately put his life in danger?
“I know. But let’s not think of it tonight. Dessert and a movie, Miss Burton?”
Marcus stood, dragging me up with him, wearing a mind-blowing smile that scattered all my previous thoughts into oblivion. When I didn’t answer immediately, his fingers touched my face fondly as if I were made of glass. He looked stripped of his usual conceited confidence. He looked so young and almost vulnerable.
“Of course.”
I put my hand in his, and for the night, I let worries and troubling thoughts fade into the background.
Darkside Love Affair Page 15
