Hot Silver Nights: Silver Fox Romance Collection

by Ainsley Booth

  She giggled at the idea. “You’d have won.”

  “Tell me about it.” He tilted his head and lowered his thick lashes, regarding her through hooded eyes that gleamed with…something. “And I’d still like to win the prize.”

  Chapter 8

  Amadou watched Lina’s eyes widen. Some would accuse him of being too bold, but if anything he’d showed restraint.

  There was no “might” in his mind. He intended to claim her, if only for one night. “Would you like to hear the new song I just wrote?”

  “I’d love that.” The relief in her eyes showed that she was glad of a change of subject. He wanted to laugh. Didn’t she realize his song would be about her?

  “I wrote it last night and laid down some tracks in the studio this morning with my band.” He pulled up the MP3 on his phone. Just the background beat and the guitar.

  He stood, feeling suddenly shy. He’d written plenty of songs about Lina over the years but never performed one to her face—at least not since they were both kids.

  He turned and walked into the middle of the sitting room, as the music poured out of his portable speakers and flowed around them.

  Lina looked so beautiful sitting there, her blonde hair falling softly to her shoulders, her blue eyes bright with anticipation and her cheeks flushed from champagne.

  Damn but he longed to take her in his arms right now.

  He let the tension build, filling his creative well, growing the song inside him. Finally, when he couldn’t stand it anymore, he let the words spill out.

  Lina had moved to the sofa, glad to stretch out and relax. Making conversation had made her tense. Watching his mouth move made her want to kiss him. His gestures made her wish he would touch her. And also that he wouldn’t, because where would that lead?

  She relished the opportunity to sit back and listen to him sing. It would give her a chance to think up a polite excuse to leave. An early-morning hair appointment, perhaps? Might as well choose something that made her seem dull and shallow.

  Amadou didn’t use a mic. He hung his head for a moment, moving slightly to the beat as the opening bars of the music played, then suddenly he threw his head back and started to sing.

  In the relatively small space of the hotel suite, his voice rang with raw power that emanated from every muscle of his body. Hoping to relax, instead she found herself sitting to attention, rapt, hanging on every note that echoed off the elaborate plaster moldings of the high ceiling.

  Then she noticed the lyrics.

  She was always there inside me

  Hidden in my mind

  So many years apart meant nothing…

  He stared right at her, his gaze trapping hers, his words penetrating her brain.

  I don’t think she knew it

  But I was there inside her all the time

  She swallowed. Was he right? Had she been carrying Amadou—or feelings for him—all through her marriage to Emil?

  Yes.

  Impossible, though. She didn’t think about him. Not much, anyway. But she couldn’t deny there was still something powerful between them. Probably just that chemistry people made so much of. It worked like an expensive perfume, creating a connection between people even when there was no real reason for them to communicate.

  He kept singing, and she deliberately tried not to listen to the lyrics. His strong voice was transfixing enough already. And his eyes, the way they stared at her, as if they could see right through to her thoughts.

  Suddenly he stopped, and she realized she’d been holding her breath. She drew in air and managed to conjure a smile. “That was wonderful.”

  He cocked his head, challenging her. “Wonderful?”

  He thought her comment sounded phony. Which it was. Wonderful was a word you’d use to praise an elaborate floral arrangement, a beautiful bridal gown, or perhaps a pleasant tea party for a few hundred of your favorite foreign diplomats.

  “Powerful,” she attempted. “Moving.”

  “Thank you.” Now one corner of his lip lifted into a wry smile. “I’d hate to think I hadn’t moved you.”

  “You move audiences of a thousand people,” she said, trying to make it seem like it wasn’t just her.

  “A thousand? I played to ninety thousand in the Wembley Arena last month.”

  “Really? I didn’t know anywhere could hold that many people.”

  “I bet there are a lot of things you don’t know.” He walked toward her.

  “No doubt.” She pushed another smile to her lips. “I never claimed to be perfect.”

  He sat down on the sofa next to her, which sent a shockwave of awareness through her.

  She should have sat on the chair instead.

  “You don’t have to claim to be perfect.” He took her hand. Uh-oh. And kissed it. Double uh-oh. Heat flashed through her, up her arm and to her face. “It’s enough for you to be simply—you.”

  Before she could respond—or even gather her thoughts—his lips met hers in a fiery explosion of…whatever that was that happened between them when they got too close.

  This time the kiss deepened instantly. Her hands flew to his neck, drawing him to her. He wrapped his around her, enveloping her in his warmth.

  I’ve missed you so much.

  A line from his song and from her own heart pulsed in her head. She’d forgotten what it was like to experience this kind of passion. To have her whole body come alive in a man’s arms.

  Her fingers wove into his hair, feeling the familiar shape of his head, then down his back, where they plucked at his T-shirt, groping for the hot skin beneath it.

  His lips made a trail of kisses across her cheekbone and to her neck, where he hit an erogenous zone and made her gasp. His hands roamed over her, exploring her back and touching the sides of her breasts, which made her shiver with pleasure.

  I’ve missed you so much.

  Why did she leave him? It seemed insane. So long ago she couldn’t even conjure her actual reasoning at the time, just her much-repeated official version of it.

  Her fingers probed under his T-shirt and pressed into the hard muscle of his back. She felt his belly contract as he sucked in a breath.

  “In thirty years my feelings for you haven’t changed one bit.” He breathed the words into her neck, and she felt the truth of them in her heart.

  Mine neither. She had the presence of mind not to speak her thoughts. Still, she couldn’t seem to stop her hands from wandering lower, to caress his hard backside and powerful thighs.

  She’d forgotten what it felt like to be with such a strong man. Her late husband, Emil, was…an intellectual—not given to exercise or physical development. Amadou was naturally built like an athlete. He approached his daily life with such muscular energy that every day was a full-body workout. If anything his body looked better than ever—fuller and more substantial but still lean as a college student.

  The effect on her own body was electrifying. Her insides quaked and yearned for him. And when she felt his fingers on the zipper of her dress, the only thought she could summon was yes!

  He lowered the zipper carefully, sliding his fingers over the bare skin of her back. She shivered in anticipation of feeling his skin against hers. As soon as he reached the bottom she tugged at the hem of his T-shirt and together they pulled it over his head.

  “Stand up.” His whispered command brought her to her feet, and she realized he was about to release her dress at the shoulders and let it drop to the floor. Sudden panic surged through her. He’d last seen her naked when she was a skinny girl of twenty without a single stretch mark.

  What if he saw her body and was repulsed, or at least unpleasantly surprised?

  As if sensing her hesitation, he held her close and kissed her until she started to relax again. Then, releasing her only far enough from him that there was room for her dress to slide down, he eased it off her shoulders and over her arms.

  As it fell to the floor he let out a ragged sigh and ran his hands
over her sides.

  “I never thought I’d hold you in my arms again,” he murmured. He cupped her backside, then slid his arms around her waist and pressed her naked body against him. Her insides shimmied. “This is a dream come true.”

  Emotion welled inside Lina. She hadn’t dreamed about meeting Amadou again. If anything she’d dreaded it, maybe because she knew there was still buried emotion deep inside her. Unfulfilled longing that had lain dormant somewhere in her heart throughout her long marriage, just waiting for the right conditions to burst forth and bloom again.

  She shouldn’t be doing this.

  Her nipples grew tight against his hard chest. He made her feel young inside. Her heart beat like a drum, and her breathing grew unsteady. Passion snuck over her and made her skin hot and her thoughts confused.

  She wasn’t supposed to get this overexcited at her age.

  It didn’t feel…safe.

  Still, her fingers wandered to the button on his pants and undid it. Then she unzipped them, and together they slid his pants and underwear down over his strong thighs until he stepped out of them.

  The sight of Amadou naked always had an alarming effect on her, and nothing had changed. Her insides clamored when she saw his proud erection, and she ached to have him buried deep in her.

  Again.

  As they kissed and caressed, reveling in each others’ bodies, there was an eerie familiarity that made the strange situation seem somehow totally natural.

  “I want to make love to you,” he whispered softly in her ear. “May I?”

  Her heart squeezed. “Yes.” He’d asked her like that the first time all those years ago. The thoughtful gesture had surprised her since everything else about him was so bold. She’d given the same answer then.

  He led her into his bedroom, where he retrieved a condom from a drawer and rolled it on deftly. Her anxious self-consciousness had vanished. His appreciation of her body—of her—was so evident and obvious she almost wanted to laugh.

  He lifted her onto the bed and her skin tingled with awareness as he climbed over her and kissed her softly on the lips. She held her breath as he entered her, but her body welcomed him, drawing him deep, and soon she relaxed and they started to move together.

  Oh, my.

  Sensations she hadn’t experienced in decades rippled through her. He moved with the same confidence, the same tender affection that had stirred her when she was too young and shallow to realize how much it meant.

  Now she’d lived long enough to know that this kind of passion was rare. That the emotions flooding her right now were feelings you could go through an entire lifetime and never know.

  She inhaled his scent—intoxicating as always—and drew it down into her core. As they kissed she felt herself growing drunk on the taste of him. He moved them both with such ease, guiding the rhythm and moving them between positions in a way that felt both completely natural and utterly exciting. Being with him felt effortless, inevitable, like the sunset and the sunrise, or getting caught in the rain of a sudden storm.

  When her climax finally overtook her she cried out, then immediately apologized. Surely decades of royal training should have disciplined such an outburst out of her? A palace or a hotel had far too many employees who could overhear a moment of passionate indiscretion.

  “Don’t apologize,” he murmured, still panting hard after his own release. “That’s the most exciting sound I’ve heard in years. And as a musician I am something of an expert.”

  They both laughed, their chests shaking against each other. Then he pulled his arms around her again and held her so tight she could hardly breathe.

  “Now that I have you in my arms I don’t want to let you go again.”

  She giggled against his chest. “I’m not sure I want to go anywhere.” She felt so relaxed after their lovemaking.

  “If I let you go you might walk away and go marry some prince and I won’t see you again for thirty years.”

  “I won’t marry again,” she said quite honestly. “It was a good marriage but once was enough.”

  “Yes, you will.” He said it with slow deliberation. “You won’t be able to help yourself. You’re traditional at your core. I can’t imagine you having a relationship that wasn’t leading to marriage.”

  “I did it before. With you.”

  “Yes, and then you waltzed off and married someone else.”

  “This time I definitely will not be doing that.”

  “Because you’re staying with me?”

  She bit her lip. Could she stay overnight? She hadn’t brought a change of clothes or any makeup other than lipstick. Still, the thought of leaving made her heart contract painfully. “Perhaps for tonight.”

  He kissed her forehead softly. “That’s good enough for me. If I can hold you in my arms for one entire night, I could probably die happy.”

  “Don’t say that!” Her words came out with more force than she intended.

  He squeezed her. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I almost forgot that you recently lost your husband.”

  Ouch. The elephant in the room shifted. Emil was now right here in the bedroom with them—in their thoughts. Even though you couldn’t technically cheat on a dead man, she couldn’t help feeling that she’d betrayed him in some way.

  “It’s still a bit raw, that’s all.” She inhaled as much as she could with Amadou’s chest pressed over hers. With him still inside her… “It was very sudden. Unexpected.”

  Tears welled inside her. What was she doing? She hadn’t been a widow for even one full year yet, and already she was naked in the arms of another man? And having surprising and disconcerting feelings for him. It was all too much, too soon.

  “I have to go.”

  Chapter 9

  Amadou’s driver took Lina back to her hotel—in their lifestyle there was always someone who knew your most intimate movements. She was a little surprised at how easily Amadou let her go. She had promised to see him again before she left Paris, and to be honest she was already looking forward to it.

  You’re mad!

  Her conscience upbraided her for giving in to foolish desire. But some other, more reckless part of her was thrilled that she still possessed the ability to desire after all these years.

  She barely slept that night and woke in a state of semi-bliss, her body still reveling in the pleasure she’d experienced last night. Would it have been wonderful or terrifying to wake in his arms?

  Terrifying probably. This reunion affair wasn’t going anywhere. Sooner or later she’d be licking her wounds, and deservedly so, considering how she’d treated him when they were younger.

  Her phone’s ringtone made her jump. Was it him?

  No. And the name that popped up on the screen made her heart sink. Her sanctimonious sister, Liesel—who had skipped over marriage and family to devote herself full time to criticizing others. “Good morning.”

  “I heard you were in Paris.”

  Luckily, Liesel lived in Germany.

  “Yes, visiting Callista.”

  “I just arrived here myself to do a little shopping.”

  Lina’s gut clenched. “You’re in Paris?” Of course Liesel knew nothing about Amadou, either now or years ago, but her beady pale eyes rarely missed a trick. “Where are you staying?” Far away, hopefully.

  “Prince de Galles.”

  Lina swallowed. Amadou’s hotel. “Oh.”

  “I had to battle my way through a crowd of reporters when I got out of my taxi this morning. Some African musician is here, and he just got nominated for an award. I mean, really! The place is mobbed when one chooses the Prince de Galles for peace and privacy.”

  Was she talking about Amadou? He’s French, not African. She managed to hold her tongue, wondering what the award could be. She paid no attention to the music scene.

  “But in the event that I manage to fight my way out again, I was thinking we could meet for lunch at Siri’s.”

  Lina racked he
r brain for a reason to refuse. And failed. Being royal meant that you couldn’t make enemies of anyone, least of all family. “I could do that. Is one okay?” That should give her time to recover and maybe get her hair done to revive her facade of respectability before meeting Liesel.

  “Let’s make it noon.”

  “Okay.” Liesel always liked to be difficult. “See you then.” Hopefully she could escape fast. She hung up and wondered if—and how—she could warn Amadou about the potential enemy in his camp, but then he’d never even heard of her sister and would hardly see her as a threat to himself so that would just be weird.

  She Googled his name and “award” and found he was up for a Grammy. Then she texted him to congratulate him. She was just being polite. Really! It was the kind of thing anyone would do.

  Thanks. I want to take you for lunch.

  She sighed. And spent a hilarious second wondering what would happen if she invited him to join her and Liesel. Liesel would be polite to his face, most likely, at least. Like her she’d been expensively trained at the finest schools, but afterward she’d berate her for dating someone outside her social circle and destroying the family’s reputation.

  Never mind that Amadou was richer and more famous than any of them. Certainly more well-loved.

  I can’t. My awful sister is in town. And she’s at your hotel.

  Her phone rang. It was him. “How awful is she?” His deep, melodious voice stirred her insides.

  “Unbelievably awful. You have no idea.”

  “But you can’t cancel on her because it’s your family duty to meet her for lunch.”

  “Exactly.” She laughed. “You know me too well.”

  “I could trip her in the lobby.”

  “Don’t. She’d sue you.”

  “How about dinner, then?”

  Lina bit her lip as a warm flush of sensation rose through her. She would love to have dinner with him again. “I’m nervous that we’re going to be noticed.” She could hardly go to his hotel now that her sister was staying there. And if they ate in a restaurant, anyone could see them.