by Lora Leigh
A flush stained her face as she caught him watching her, his black eyes narrowed, the sign of emotion in his expression being the glimmer of hunger in his black eyes.
"There is no need for you to search for answers," he said, his voice still cold. "I told you. Lessa has no more to do with this than Abram and I had to do with her death. It requires no more explanation than that."
"I'm sorry, but it's not that easy." After wringing the excess water from her hair, she reached for the shower door as she stared back at him intently. "I need to know what happened, Khalid, and I need more than you gave me as an explanation for your brothers' behavior. Otherwise, I'm going searching for answers whether you want me to or not."
"Is that a threat?" he asked, his tone snapping with ire.
"It's an alternative," she informed him. "It's information I deserve to know, whether it's part of this investigation or not. If a woman died because she was a lover to you and to your brother, then as your lover now, it's something I need to be aware of. Something I deserve to be aware of."
"Damn it, it has nothing to do with you," he growled, the anger she knew was brewing in him shading his voice.
"It has everything to do with me." Emotion erupted as her voice rose slightly, the pain she was beginning to feel tearing through her now. "You have all of me, Khalid. You have parts of me I swore I'd never give a man, and you share them. Don't you bloody well tell me that I have no right to the answers I need. Don't you dare even think you have a right to deny me those answers."
Marty was shaking. She felt the tears rising to her eyes and stepped quickly from the shower, slamming the door behind her as she placed a stranglehold on the screaming pain beginning to radiate through her.
Why this hurt so desperately she couldn't fully explain. She was fighting to protect him. She had lain her own career on the line even before becoming his lover to protect the innocence she believed in. To protect the man who already held a part of her heart.
He'd refused point-blank to ever discuss the time he had spent with his family in the Middle East. She'd assumed it was because of the ill feelings he harbored toward them. She had never imagined it was because someone had died, that there had been a woman, one he had shared with his brother, whom he hadn't been able to forget.
That was what hurt. She'd seen the look in his eyes, the sudden chill that had filled his expression. Khalid felt something for the mysterious Lessa. There was a part of him that still belonged to her.
How the hell was she supposed to fight a dead woman for his heart?
Jerking the towel from around her body, she dried quickly before heading to the bedroom. She dressed quickly as well. Panties; loose, dark blue pajama bottoms; and a matching T-shirt that fell well below her hips. Sitting down on the side of the bed, she gripped the thick socks she held in her hand and fought to breathe past that hurt.
She felt chilled, uncertain. Naked.
God, what was she doing to herself? She felt as though a part of her was splintering from the inside out in pain.
"Why is this so important to you?" His voice was low, brooding, as she jerked her socks on.
Marty lifted her head and stared back at him in pain.
"I have the right to know." Perhaps she didn't; she could be wrong. Her heart assured her she wasn't. He was becoming so much a part of her that she wasn't certain anymore where she ended and he began inside her soul.
Plowing his fingers through his damp hair, a heavy sigh left his chest as he moved into the bedroom and jerked a pair of loose white pants on over his dark, muscular legs.
Silence filled the bedroom. It was thick, heavy with tension, as Marty waited to see what he said, or what he would do.
"She was our lover," he finally said softly.
Marty stood slowly, turning to him only to find herself staring at his back as he stood in front of the heavily tinted windows.
"Yours and Abram's," she said.
He nodded. "More Abram's. She was his wife." He shrugged as though in afterthought.
She watched his profile as he rubbed at his face and grimaced heavily.
"What happened?"
He gripped his neck tight for long seconds before blowing a hard breath and turning back to her.
"As I told you before, we thought Ayid and Aman as well as their wives had been killed in that explosion. We didn't know Ayid and Aman had surivived. I was attacked hours later, taken out into the desert and nearly killed. Abram went to Riyadh at our father's request to learn what had happened to Ayid and Aman. Once we were both out of the way, Ayid and Aman returned to the palace." He closed his eyes as he turned away from her and fought back the tightening of his gut at the knowledge of how Lessa had been found.
"Ayid and Aman did it?" she asked.
He nodded. "They weren't where they were supposed to be. Their wives were there, but they weren't. The moment the building was bombed, they knew I had betrayed them. They knew, because I had been at their home and seen the paper that the location was written on. They knew that. Ayid caught me reading it. I told him it was near my favorite coffeehouse. We laughed about it."
Marty felt the raw agony that glittered in his eyes.
"There was no reason for them to believe I would think anything of it." He breathed out roughly. "No reason to think it would affect their plans. After all, I was no more than the bastard brother who wanted nothing more than to make the world my playground."
Marty sat silently, watching the emotions that flitted across his face.
Hatred and fury flashed in his eyes for a second before he shook his head and moved from the window to the small sofa that faced the bed. Sitting down, he laid his arms on his knees and stared at the floor for long seconds.
"Shayne found me in the desert," he continued wearily. "When I made it back to the castle it was to find Abram screaming in rage at our father. As strong as he was, as unbendable as he could be, still, he cried when Azir called his wife a whore. Then he admitted he knew that Abram had shared his wife with me, and that because of that he would do nothing to Ayid and Aman for her murder." He turned away from her for a long moment before continuing in a voice thick with grief. "I had sworn to protect her as I would my own wife. I swore to love her as I would love my own. And I failed her." When he turned back to her his gaze was bleak with sorrow. "You have always watched me with such pride, with such confidence in my strength. To have you know the truth, to know I failed Lessa when I swore to protect her, to love her with all I was . . ." He gave his head a hard shake. "It was a truth I did not want you to know."
"And you think this affects how I see you?" she whispered painfully. "That I would blame you?"
"I blame me," he stated simply. "I failed, when I should have been more diligent."
"Your father failed." A tear slipped down her cheek as she read the pain in his eyes, in his face. He had made a promise, a vow, and the knowledge that fate had conspired against him had obviously nearly destroyed him.
"I watched that crazy old bastard that day. I saw a monster who had helped create me, and I wanted to be sick." He jumped to his feet and paced the room again as Marty watched, aching for him.
"She was so young." He turned back to her, his gaze tortured. "We were so young." A sharp laugh left his throat. "So stupid to believe that we could ever change what hasn't changed in the history of the world."
"Did you love her?" she asked.
He shook his head slowly. "I cared for her, deeply, but she was Abram's wife. Abram loved her. And I saw his face that day. He was lost inside. A man now free without the anchor sustaining him." He shrugged his shoulders heavily. "I left that night. I went to my rooms, showered, and patched myself up as best I could before calling Mother. She arranged my transport home. I left the palace that night, I contacted Shayne, and left Azir's lands. I've never returned. Azir refused to do anything about the brothers until he was ordered to by the ruling family. Then
he appealed to Abram, begged him to save his lands and his people at a time when Abram was making plans to leave Saudi and immigrate here to America."
That was new information to her. "Did Azir know Abram was planning to leave?" she asked.
Khalid shook his head. "He couldn't have known. If he had, he would have killed Abram himself."
"How would Aman and Ayid react to that information?" she questioned.
"They would kill him faster," Khalid stated. "That would disgrace the family. It would be a stain on their honor that would forever mar their lineage. When Abram's second wife and unborn child died under mysterious circumstances, Azir sent Abdul here, supposedly to protect me," he sneered.
"Why were the facts of her death covered up?"
Khalid sighed wearily. "To protect Abram. If it became public knowledge that we had shared her, he would have suffered. He would have been persecuted for it. Ayid and Aman remained silent because as long as it was unknown, they could hold it over his head, or punish him however they chose. Deerfield shouldn't have known of this, though."
"Well, trust me, he knows," she stated roughly.
"It doesn't matter what he knows, or how much he hates me." He moved to her as he extended his hand. "Come to bed, little flower. Let me hold you for a while."
She gave him her hand and let him draw her to the bed. As they settled in, her head on his shoulder, Marty couldn't shake the feeling that there was something going on that she hadn't yet put her finger on. And a feeling, an intuition, that things were building around her that she couldn't control.
A dark cloud was rolling in on them, and if she didn't figure this out, if they didn't neutralize Khalid's brothers, then that dark cloud could destroy them.
And she had a feeling that she didn't have much longer to take care of it.
Chapter 19
Finishing her shower the next morning, Marty dried her hair before wrapping her towel around her body and moving into the bedroom. Shayne and Khalid had gone to separate showers earlier. They'd been quiet, looking at her intently.
There was something especially watchful about them that morning that had put her entire system on overload. Her senses had gone on full alert, her body humming with anticipation until they left the room.
She was still off balance. The brooding sensuality in Khalid's expression was impossible to put out of her mind. The way his gaze had flicked over her before meeting her eyes. There had been a message in them, one she couldn't decipher before he left the room.
While shaking her head, she moved to the dresser. As she reached for the first drawer, her head turned as the door opened and Khalid and Shayne stepped inside once again; staring at the two men, she felt her womb clench with a little, slow, electric sizzle that shot straight to her clit.
Shirtless, Shayne wore loose sweatpants; Khalid had donned a pair of black silk pajama bottoms. The differences in the two men had never been more apparent. Khalid had a smooth, dangerous sophistication that hid the animal lurking beneath, while Shayne didn't bother to hide anything.
There was something more intently formidable about the fact that cool sophistication cloaked the man Khalid was. It made him less predictable, more inherently sexual than she had ever seen Shayne.
Breathing in deeply, she turned back to the drawer and pulled free a pair of lacy bronze panties and matching bra.
"You won't need those quite yet." They were plucked out of her hand as Khalid stepped up to her. "Not for a quite a while."
"I have things to do," she informed him, her voice breathless.
Damn. She was panting for him, and they both knew it.
"Not for a while yet."
The towel slid from her body as he pulled at the tuck between her breasts.
Her breasts became immediately sensitive, swollen, her nipples hardening to the point that they ached.
She would have protested. She should have protested.
Khalid's hand slid into her hair, his fingers tangling in the damp strands as he gripped her hip and turned her slowly to face Shayne.
"I want to watch first," he growled against her ear as he nipped at it. "I want to watch him fuck you. Watching your face as his cock sinks inside your sweet body and drives you to climax."
Marty wanted to whimper as Shayne shed his sweatpants, his expression tight with lust, his eyes darkening with it. Between his thighs his cock stood out, heavy with lust, the crest dark and tight.
"I want to hold you, control you," Khalid whispered at her ear. "I want to ensure that you know who controls your greatest pleasure." His hand slid to her thigh as he used his foot to push her legs apart. "I control it." Hard, thick with lust, his voice stroked over her senses as Shayne's hand slid between her thighs, his fingers opening her.
"Is she wet?" Khalid growled, as Shayne's fingers slid through the slick, sensitive flesh.
"Wet. And hot." A tight grimace contorted Shayne's face as Marty arched and cried out at the sudden thrust of two fingers deep inside her aching pussy.
She felt the instant thread of response that tightened between her pussy, her clit, and her impending orgasm. His fingers slid back, thrust home again. For long seconds they fucked inside her, driving her to her tiptoes as a wailing cry left her lips.
"Enough," Khalid ordered, as Marty flew to the very edge of release.
Just that fast Shayne stopped. His fingers were still embedded inside the clenching depths of her vagina, the muscles of his arm and chest straining as she shuddered between them.
"I'm going to watch him fuck you like that." Khalid's hand slid over her stomach, caressing the clenched muscles of her abdomen. "So hard and deep, you'll be screaming for more, begging for it to stop."
She was ready to scream now and wanted nothing more than to beg to come.
"I ache for you." A gentle, soft kiss smoothed across her neck as she fought to breathe.
Shayne's fingers flexed inside her, drawing a strangled cry from her throat as the tips of his fingers rubbed inside her, stroking high and deep and stealing her breath with the sensations.
"I ache to watch your face, hear your cries, to see your sweet pussy or that tight little ass stretch until you're screaming from the biting pleasure."
Shayne's fingers slid from the aching depths of her sex as Khalid picked her up and carried her to the bed. She was laid down gently, but the kiss that came immediately afterward was anything but gentle.
It was filled with hunger, with need. Khalid took her lips and stole her senses with his lips and tongue as he lay beside her, his hand caressing from her neck to her breasts.
Her world became limited to the two men and four hands.
Khalid's kiss was like wildfire as it sank into her. He ate at her lips, sipped at them, as Shayne's lips traveled along the breast Khalid left free.
She couldn't focus on just one touch; it was impossible. Hungry lips took hers as suckling lips drew a tight, sensitive nipple into a hot mouth and began to work it with a hungry tongue.
Hands touched, stroked.
They parted her thighs.
Marty arched as desperation began to claw inside her. Two strong male fingers sank inside her pussy, working into the clenching flesh as Shayne began to kiss his way down her body.
Fire tore through her. It wrapped around her clit, blazed across her nerve endings, and left her shaking, shuddering in need.
As Khalid's lips lifted from hers, her eyes opened to stare into the hungry eyes of the rough-hewn man who held her heart.
"Do you know what you do to me?" he whispered.
How could she ever do more to him than he did to her? He stole her mind with his touch and stole reason with his kisses.
"You make me dream, Marty." His lips settled at her ear, his voice a breath of sound.
She made him dream?
Her breath caught in her chest. He was her dream, her greatest fantasy.
"You make me come apart at the seams."
"Oh God." The cry tore from her at the same moment, at the feel of Shayne's tongue delving into the folds of her pussy.
A second later it was gone, and fierce male lips were kissing her thighs, teeth raking her flesh.
Shayne's lips traveled lower, kissing behind her knees as his hands stroked and soothed her flesh, even as he built the fire inside her higher, hotter.
"Khalid." She was dazed, on fire as she lifted her lashes and stared up at him. "You're killing me."
"Pleasuring you." Male satisfaction gleamed in his eyes as hers widened at the feel of Shayne's fingers easing inside her pussy once again, while his tongue moved back to the swollen knot of her clit.
She was stretched so tight she trembled, her body shuddering at the pleasure.
"There, little flower," Khalid soothed her, as his head lowered once again and his lips eased over her neck, then to the swollen nipple nearest him.
Licking it sensually, he stared up at her, the exotic planes and angles of his face giving him a wicked, hungry expression.
Gasping for breath, Marty tried to hold on to her senses just enough to understand which lover was touching which part of her body.
She was losing that ability, though. Her lashes drifted closed and the erotic sensuality of the moment took over.
Pleasure built and burned inside her.
Shayne licked at her pussy, circling her clit with flickering quick little strokes that had her reaching, fighting to throw herself over the edge of ecstasy as his fingers stretched and eased inside the delicate tissue of her pussy.
Hips arched, her hands buried in Khalid's hair, she moaned their names as the escalating pleasure whipped through her senses.
She couldn't have imagined it could be this good, this erotic.
"Sweet love." Khalid groaned as his head lifted, his lips moving to hers once more. "Little flower. How beautiful you are. You're lost, aren't you, Marty? Lost inside the pleasure. I see it in your eyes, feel it in your body."
He stared down at her, his expression reflecting such hunger, such pleasure that she had to wonder what drove him to these lengths.
