I take a mouthful of couscous and start to choke as grief smothers me like a dirty rag. I’ve never had a family with love like theirs. Mine was stolen away long before I had a chance to cherish it, and in that moment I feel such hatred toward my father that my food turns to sawdust in my mouth.
All the while, I can sense Jake watching me. Stripping me bare with his gaze. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, turning away.
I spend the rest of the meal pushing the food around my plate and chewing each mouthful a hundred times. Smiling often, concealing my pain. Putting on a show, as usual.
Not Jake. I’ve never seen him so relaxed. There are no deadlines to hit, no mysterious studio meetings to fret over, or paparazzi lurking underneath the windows to take an intrusive shot. Sitting between Hassan and his mother, he’s communicating with her through Hassan’s translation, telling her all about the film shoot and America.
“She is wondering when your business will be finished?” I hear Hassan ask him.
“Six weeks. All being well.”
Six weeks? Is that all? For some reason this depresses me.
There’s a pause as Hassan translates this back to his mother. She’s a striking woman with immaculate dark robes and an azure-blue headscarf. I catch her glancing at me often.
“And then back to America until the next movie?”
“No. I’ll be returning for good after this. I’m flying back to take over my father’s company.” A dark emotion flits across Jake’s face. It’s the same one I saw in Cassie’s trailer after he saw me standing there, a reluctant witness to him at his most manipulative.
Regret.
“Do you have to?” My voice rings out loud and clear across the dinner table.
He puts down his fork and gazes at me steadily. “Global was my father’s whole world, Charlie. I guess I’m not ready to let go of him yet.”
It’s such a personal declaration and so unlike Jake. I have to turn away again so he can’t register my shock. Out of the corner of my eye I see Hassan’s mother whisper something to her eldest daughter, Malak.
“What’s your mother saying?” I ask her. I’ve already sussed out that Malak speaks a little English.
“She says you are beautiful,” says Malek as she fingers the ends of my hair in wonder. “Your skin is so white. So fine. How you say…like china?”
“Porcelain,” I correct her with an embarrassed smile.
“She also say you have sad eyes. I agree. We have a saying in my village: past is a cage and life is a bird. She cannot escape it, no matter how hard she beats her wings against the bars. Only when she accepts the cage will she truly be free.”
Jake pauses his conversation with Hassan to listen.
“Your mother is kind, but mistaken,” I lie quickly. “There’s nothing in my past except books and boredom.”
Hassan’s mother whispers something else to Malak, who blushes scarlet. “She asks why you are not married yet?”
Now it’s my turn to blush.
“I read somewhere that the right man is the one who seizes the moment,” murmurs Jake, filling the aching silence for me.
There’s a pause to let his words breathe before I’m flicking my gaze up to meet his. “I guess I’m still waiting to be someone’s moment, then,” I say quietly.
Chapter Nineteen
Later that evening, Jake and I find ourselves alone together outside. There are a myriad stars above our heads. Heaven and earth have collided in one big universe of flickering lights. I wish I could say it was romantic, but there’s far too much unresolved tension simmering between us. Whatever small truce we forged over dinner has long since melted into the darkness.
Hassan has tuned in to a radio station playing western pop music on his car stereo, and the children are dancing like fireflies in the glare of the headlamps. The cicadas are chirping noisily in unison but the silence between me and Jake is deafening.
We’re standing on the outskirts of the hamlet. I can’t see the edge of the mountainside and it’s making me nervous. The way Jake feels about me, I’m sure he’d try to push me off it if he could. I can feel his eyes punching my skin from the shadows.
“Why did you lie to Hassan’s mother?” he growls suddenly, taking a step in my direction. I watch the dark fall away from his face like a veil.
“So, you’re talking to me now, are you?” I say, bitter in my defiance.
“Are you denying it?”
“You bet I am.”
“And now you’re lying to me.” Jake thrusts his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. God, he looks so tall and perfect, just standing there sexing up the place, while calling me out on my bullshit.
Gritting my teeth, I turn back to the yawning blackness as a wild thought flits through my head. If I jumped, would he save me?
“Look at me, Books.”
“Don’t call me that,” I say crossly. “It was cute before, but a lot has changed since then.”
“I’ll call you whatever the hell I like, and it wasn’t a request.” He takes my arm and spins me around to face him. His expression is fierce and penetrating, but his eyes are sparking with something else entirely.
Lust. Regret. Pity?
Oh, hell, no. That’s one emotion I’m not prepared to have chucked in my direction by anyone, especially not from him.
“What happened between us this morning?” he demands.
“Do you really need me to go into specifics?”
“I meant afterward.” He drops my arm and returns his hands to his pockets. “Christ, you don’t make this easy, do you?”
Neither do you, Jake. Neither do you.
I take a step away to open up a little distance between us. It’s a compromise, of sorts. Half of my heart is pleading with me to tumble into his arms again. The other half is boarding that plane back to London already.
“This was meant to be a one-time thing. I don’t do…this.” He gestures between us, scowling in distaste. “We’re like a fucking car crash unfolding, and I can’t have distractions in my life right now.”
“This wasn’t exactly what I planned, either, Jake. I came here to get my life on track. The wheels are spinning for me, too, you know.”
“I thought you only took the job to irritate your mother?” His lips start to twitch.
“That too,” I huff. “And you’re a brave man bringing her up again after what happened last night.”
“You don’t work like other women. Someone typed up your instruction manual in Chinese. I wish I could see inside that irritating-as-fuck mind of yours.”
“No, you don’t.” I say quickly.
“Come here,” he says, beckoning me over to him.
“Why?”
His eyes are smoldering at me again and my heart rate just got the memo. “Because it’s time for show and tell.” He herds me behind the nearest stone cabin and out of sight of the children.
“Jake, I really don’t—” Before I can finish, he’s pulling me into his arms and smashing our mouths together, kissing me hungrily and nicking my lower lip with his teeth. I cry out in surprise and his tongue takes full advantage, besieging my mouth, as he has every other part of me, the pendulum swinging from hate to lust so violently.
“Okay, you’ve shown, now tell,” I say with a gasp when we finally break for air.
His hands linger on my face, as though he can’t bring himself to break contact with me. My lips are burning like kerosene. Over his shoulder I can see a solitary light in the distance, flashing on and off like a beacon of hope. Is that for us, I wonder? Do car crashes get happy endings?
“I blurred the lines for you,” he says huskily. “I couldn’t help myself. Christ, you have this spark inside that makes me want to screw you into next week.”
“I thought you hated me,” I whi
sper.
He shakes his head. “Not hate. Definitely not hate. Although my life would be a hell of a lot easier if I did.”
He pulls me back to him again, and I’m a willing hostage. There’s a strength in Jake that broken souls like mine will always be drawn to.
“I’d fuck you right now if I could.” He starts to tease hot urgent kisses along my forehead. “Would you like that, Books? For me to push you up against this wall, strip you down, and take you hard? Out here in the middle of North Africa, with no one but the stars to hear you scream?”
I choke on my answer, desire pooling between my legs as his knuckles skim the small dimple below my mouth.
“So we’re a two-night thing now, are we?” I somehow manage.
He frowns before answering. “I’ve been a shit to you. I’m sorry.”
“Is that another apology?”
His fingertips stray to my forehead before moving downward to trace the hollow arc of my cheekbone. “So it would seem.”
This man’s a drug, I think hazily. He’s a powerful one-two punch wrapped up in a riddle. His effect on my body is undeniable… Can he feel me trembling? I’m desperate for him to kiss me again.
“Mr. Dalton?”
We spin away from each other in surprise. Jake lets go of me and my world is suddenly so much colder for it. Hassan has approached unseen and is hovering uncomfortably at the edge of our embrace.
“Is it time to go?” Jake asks.
The Moroccan nods. “If we leave now, we can reach Erizo before sunrise.”
“Very well.” Jake considers me for a moment. “Ready?” He inclines his head toward the waiting car.
I hesitate. Am I? We’ve resolved nothing between us, other than a few more lurches in that pendulum. He touches my arm and I try not to flinch away.
“I’m not forgiven yet, am I?” he says, frowning at me.
I shake my head. “I don’t think I am, either.”
“Then we better hit the gas.” That wicked gleam is coming out to play again. “The sooner we get back to my hotel suite, the sooner we can start making it up to one another.”
Chapter Twenty
It’s three a.m. and I’m wide-awake. Not by choice, I might add.
I woke up screaming about my father again, and now I can’t get back to sleep.
Kicking off the white bed sheet, I flip my pillow over in a fit of irritation. The humidity in the room is dense and overpowering, my face is prickly with sweat, and the air conditioning unit above the bathroom door is threatening to pack up any minute. There’s a telltale drip, drip, ping as the condensation leaks out of a crack in the gray plastic cover and torpedoes the terracotta tiles below.
Tick tock…ping
The droplets are getting bigger.
Symphony a la insomniac.
A car rumbles past outside, and I watch strips of headlight slither across the ceiling like angular orange snakes. This night is dragging on and on like some endless marathon.
Twenty-four hours have passed since we arrived back in Erizo. Twenty-four hours of craving Jake Dalton far more than I should, and tying myself in knots over the sheer improbability of us. I’m still waiting for him to screw his apology into me. There was some major PR catastrophe waiting for him on set, and as such I’ve barely seen him, let alone touched him.
If anything, it’s made me want him even more, and boy, do I want him tonight. The relentless heat and the thought of his smoking-hot body lying naked in the Presidential Suite just one floor above is doing crazy things to my lust levels. In his arms is the only place I want to be, the only place where my past can’t reach me.
By some telepathic witchcraft my cell phone on the nightstand starts chiming.
Jake: Is it just classic literature you read or have you a voracious appetite for everything?
Me: Define everything.
Jake: I don’t need to define anything with you. You’re one of the only women I know who doesn’t have to look up big words like voracious.
Me: Maybe you should concentrate on IQ size rather than bra size in future?
Jake: Maybe I should. What are you reading right now?
Me: Porn.
Jake: You can’t read porn. I hear it’s more a visual thing.
Me: Maybe Global should consider expanding into the adult entertainment business.
Jake: Maybe you should stop talking about sex unless you want me banging down your door.
Me: Is this heading toward a three-night thing now? If so, I might have to check my diary.
Jake: Fuck your diary. What are you wearing?
Me: Nothing
Jake: On my way.
Me: Wait!
Jake: Too late. Your megalomaniac boss’s boss needs some urgent…assistance.
Holy shit.
I sit up and hit the lights. Our sexting has just triggered a blast of warmth to my core.
Another text pings into my inbox.
Jake: Be ready. In no mood for foreplay.
His last words are like a trigger to a smoking gun. I’m already out of bed and brushing my teeth when I hear a knock at the door. The handle turns and Jake barges into my room wearing designer black jeans and a black shirt, and looking menacing as hell.
“Liar,” he says, glaring at my cream silk negligee. “Take it off.”
I pause, halfway between the bathroom and the sex machine in front of me. He’s asking me to relinquish control again. Yesterday it seemed easy, but I’ve swung back around into self-preservation mode since then.
“Please,” he adds, sensing my reluctance.
“Please?” My eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you use that word before.”
His lips twist in protest at a burgeoning smile. “Don’t make me beg for it, Books.”
“Oh, and what a pretty sight that would be.” I reach for the hem of my negligee but I can’t get my arms free, and then the spaghetti straps get stuck under my ears. Some stripper I’d make.
“Here, allow me.”
A moment later it’s being whipped over my head and his dark gaze is devouring my naked body. “That’s better,” he says, tossing it away. Desire has thickened his voice to that low drawl, the one that turns my resolve to mush. “There may be hope for you yet.”
Without warning he powers into me, taking my face between his hands and locking our mouths together with a groan. My lips part intuitively and his tongue delves into my mouth with all of that persuasive skill I love. We tumble backward onto my bed, bound together.
“You really do need assistance,” I say, gasping as a warm palm moves up and over my stomach, seeking out my breasts. I part my legs and he slides between them.
“You bet I do, Books,” he growls into my ear, “and I get the feeling it’s reciprocated.”
Suddenly his hands are everywhere. There’s a hunger to his touch, and I respond to it like I’m starving, too. A crazy beat, a relentless insistence, is hammering between my legs, and I grind my clit into his erection over and over to find some relief.
“Fuck, woman. I have the press ringing my phone off the hook, my movie’s two mil in the red, and all I can think of is being inside you.” He rears up, dragging me with him and wrenches his black T-shirt over his head. “You are very bad for business, young lady.”
He pushes me down again and imprisons my hands above my head. We’re both grinding frantically against each other. “I’m going to climb inside your fucking soul tonight,” he says, his voice as rough as hell. “I hope your pussy’s ready for this.”
I can’t answer him. I’ve temporarily lost the power of speech. Right now all his pent-up frustration about the shoot and whatever the hell is going on with Global Studios is being firmly directed at me.
His hand slides downward. Two fingers push inside me. “So wet. Wer
e you dreaming about me?” He’s trailing kisses all the way from my eyebrow down to my jawline, keeping up that steady rhythm with his fingers.
“No, Max, actually,” I whisper, my customary flippancy asserting itself. Just. The truth is, this man is all I dream about these days. My nightmares belong solely to my father.
With an angry howl, he rears backward and flips me over onto my hands and knees.
“Wait. Jake—”
“Hush your mouth.” He’s unzipping his jeans now. His other hand is gripping my hip like a vise. “I’m going to enjoy punishing you for that.”
My stomach lurches. “Jake, no!” I buck against him with all my strength and he lets go straightaway.
“What the fuck?”
Rolling sideways, I clamber into bed in a flurry of white sheets and hug my knees to my chest, with my back turned away from him.
Silence fills the room, a void that is rich in confusion.
“What’s going on, Charlie?”
I don’t answer, so he yanks the sheet away and lies down next to me. He’s still shirtless, his bare skin searing into mine. The top button of his jeans is pressing into the small of my back.
“Talk to me, Books.”
“It’s nothing,” I mutter into the pillow. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.”
“I pushed you too far.”
“I’m not some naive little virgin!” I whip back around, bristling with indignation. “Don’t go thinking you’ve found a chink in my armor, Jake Dalton.”
“Then quit shutting me out. It’s starting to piss me off.” His eyes flicker over my face, seeking out my truth again. My ever-changing moods are putting him on edge. Join the club. I’m not one-dimensional, not like the women he’s used to having in his bed. Oh no, I’m way more interesting than that.
I watch his gaze dip to my naked breasts. I know he’s still hard for me. I can feel his erection pushing against my thigh.
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