by Cara Albany
She felt his hands shift and he drew her near to him. In spite of everything, despite the imploring voice inside her head, Grace allowed herself to settle against his hard body. Anticipation swept through her as she felt his heat against her.
She rested her hands against his chest, feeling the smooth fabric of his shirt on her fingers. She was sure she could feel his heart pounding.
Desire had awakened in him.
Grace glanced up into Qazim's eyes. "Let's not do this now," she said quickly.
Qazim's brows furrowed. "Do what now?" he asked.
"Never mind," Grace replied turning her head away from him.
She felt Qazim's fingers beneath her chin. She turned her head and faced him. His lips were moist, and she knew any moment now, his head would dip, and those lips would claim her.
If that happened, she knew everything would be lost. She would be lost.
Grace knew she had to resist that temptation.
She heard a noise coming from the kitchen. Dinner must be almost ready, she told herself. She saw Qazim's eyes flicker in the same direction. He looked momentarily annoyed.
Grace seized the opportunity. She took a step back. She fussed with her long blonde hair, feeling suddenly awkward.
Qazim's brows narrowed. He looked about to say something, perhaps insist upon an explanation for her conduct.
Grace move towards the long dinner table. "I'm hungry," she declared.
When she glanced back at Qazim, she saw his expression was thoughtful. She saw him consider, one last time whether or not to say something to her. But then he seemed to finally admit temporary defeat.
"I'll tell the chef we're ready," he said moving past her. His voice had an impatient edge.
Grace watched Qazim head off toward the kitchen. Had she done the right thing? Could she even find the strength to tell him that they were finished? That this relationship had been doomed from the start? That they existed in separate worlds. That there was no future in this intense, amazing, passionate arrangement.
Right now, she wasn't so sure she would be able to tell him it was all over.
But one thing was for sure. The last person to think that the relationship was finished would be Qazim.
As she started to make her way to the table, Grace couldn't help wondering just what Qazim's reaction would be when she finally did tell him.
CHAPTER TWO
Qazim was worried.
The meal was over and it hadn't gone to plan. Not at all. There was something bothering Grace. He'd known it from the moment she'd stepped out of the elevator. She'd looked away from him as he'd moved toward her, wanting to greet her the same way he'd always done.
With an embrace and a kiss.
He'd waited impatiently for her to arrive, and now he wondered why she was behaving so coldly toward him. There had been no hint of trouble these past few weeks. As far as Qazim was concerned, his relationship with Grace couldn't be any better.
In fact, it was the best he'd ever had with any woman.
Qazim and Grace had shared the meal together. The staff had finished clearing the table and had already left.
Qazim and Grace were alone.
Just the way he liked it.
Now he might be able to get an answer out of her. Find out what was on her mind. Even more than that, they would make love.
Again.
Anticipation triggered sensation in Qazim. A sensation he enjoyed. But nothing compared to how Grace made him feel while they were making love.
He sat at one end of the dining table. Grace was just a few feet away at the other end, but the way Qazim felt right now, she could have just as well been on the other side of the world.
She was behaving so strangely, he told himself.
Grace had been polite enough throughout the meal, laughing at his jokes, resisting his compliments about just how beautiful she looked.
And she did look stunning this evening, he told himself.
The way that dress clung to her body made something harden inside him, tempted him to take her in his arms. But then again, she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. And Qazim was the luckiest man alive. It was as simple as that.
They'd met barely two months before when Grace had arrived with the team Qazim was building to proceed with his expansion plans into North America. He and his company had construction plans for a luxury hotel in Washington.
At least Qazim had his plans. He had specific ideas of the kind of hotel he would build, the design of it. Something that would embody his own personal taste.
But, at that first meeting with his American partners, for the first time only a few floors below, in his office suite, he'd come face to face with Grace.
And what a confrontation it had been.
Right from the start she'd disagreed with Qazim's plans. Challenged him at every turn. She'd criticized them in no uncertain terms, accusing the design of the hotel as being too austere, too modern and not taking full advantage of the architectural legacy of Qazim's home country. It was Grace's idea that Qazim's tastes were just too trendy, too clinical.
Too masculine, as she put it.
Qazim had found that hard to accept. How could his tastes in design and architecture be too masculine? When pressed, Grace had accused Qazim of abandoning his heritage and everything unique that tradition gave him.
Qazim had responded defensively. The clash between Qazim and Grace had been instant. And it had been electric.
From their first exchanges, it had been clear to Qazim that Grace was a woman unlike any he'd ever met. She was firm in her opinions, determined to stand her ground and completely resistant to Qazim's will.
And he'd loved it.
More than that.
From the moment of that first encounter with Grace, Qazim had made his mind up that she belonged in his bed. And nothing would stand in his way.
So, he had courted her, won her over using every charm he had developed through years of seducing women.
Of course it hadn't been easy. Grace had made sure of that. But, from the beginning he'd sensed that she was intrigued by Qazim. One or two comments her associates had made led Qazim to believe that Grace might have been in fact trying to mask an attraction toward Qazim.
One thing had led to another, and finally he'd won the victory his body and his mind had so desperately desired.
They'd shared every possible passion, satisfied their mutual desire for each other.
And it had been incredible.
Qazim sat at the end of the table, sipped some more champagne and gazed at Grace.
He took a moment to savor her beauty; her even, pretty features with their high cheekbones and strong jawline; her icy blue eyes set beneath delicate brows; her poised elegance; the teasing swell of her full breasts beneath the fabric of her figure-hugging dress.
The sight of her made him firm with need, tempted him to make a fool of himself once more and claim her just as he'd done before on their many nights of soul-melting sex.
He felt a familiar ache inside him as he gazed at her. He said nothing to break the silence. It was enough just to be here with her.
Every little fantasy he'd played with in his mind about Grace had come true. Their love-making had been unlike anything he'd experienced with an other woman. He was thirty years of age, five years older than Grace. But the difference in years had been meaningless.
After overcoming her initial reluctance, after breaking down her last barrier, Grace's passion for Qazim had proven to be as powerful as his own desire to possess her. Her desire had matched his. He believed the bond they had created between each other these past weeks was unbreakable.
Was that enough to take the next, inevitable step?
Because that was what Qazim needed to do. She was his now, even if she didn't realize it. He had claimed her in the most primal and primitive way, and now she was a part of him.
And he was determined to act on that certainty.
He wondered if
she felt as strongly about that as he did. Judging by the passion he had drawn out of her, he was sure she did.
But, tonight had caused him to doubt some of that certainty.
He stood and moved to the end of the table. Grace watched him as he advanced toward her. Her features were set in a steady expression which revealed nothing on the surface. But he knew what was going on beneath that calm, impassive exterior.
Grace wanted him. As much as he wanted her.
He halted in front of her and reached out a hand. She glanced at his extended hand and hesitated.
"Would you like to go out on the balcony?" he asked. "It's a beautiful night."
Grace glanced through the windows. "Okay," she said casually. She took his hand and stood.
Through a set of double doors, there was a wide balcony area protected by a high glass wall, the top of which was open to the night air. It was the place Qazim went whenever he needed to clear his mind. And right now that was exactly what he needed to do. Emotions were swirling around inside him.
Qazim led Grace out onto the balcony. As they stepped out, hand in hand, he felt the welcome sharpness of the cool night air. The breeze lifted strands of Grace's blonde hair and made it dance in the semi-darkness.
The sun had gone down. The only thing which held back the darkness of the night outside were the bright lights of the city far below.
The platform of the balcony stretched the entire length of this side of the building. They walked together. He tightened his hold on Grace's hand, savoring the softness of her skin, the firmness of her grasp.
At the far end of the balcony they halted. Qazim gazed down at the city.
"Everything seems so small from up here," Grace sighed peering downward.
Qazim knew that heights didn't bother her at all. Just as well, he thought. The view of the drop sometimes made even him feel a touch of vertigo.
She looked up at him. "Must make you feel like you're master of this domain. Like the city belongs to you."
"Just the city?" he teased. Grace frowned slightly and he continued, trying to sound sincere. "It does, sometimes," he agreed and then looked at her. He lifted a brow to make sure she knew he wasn't being entirely serious.
Qazim thought about his two older brothers. They had their own domains. Both had married American women.
Zaheer had his world of palaces which he enjoyed with his wife Becca.
Riaz had his desert existence, a primitive and traditional life that was inconceivable to Qazim. It didn't matter what he thought. Riaz seemed happy enough with his new wife, Eva.
It was true what their parents said about the Al Shirah brothers. They were all so different from one another.
A question flickered into Qazim's mind. Was he about to be the third brother to take an American bride? He looked at Grace and considered that thought. She would be a fine wife, but could he dare even begin to hope for such a thing to happen?
Grace smiled at him and shook her head. "I thought you were going to at least try and be humble," she said.
"Me? Humble?" he snorted. "Never. You should know that about me by now."
He heard her sigh. "I suppose I do," she said softly, tilting her head.
Now what had she meant by that? Even as he asked himself that question, he realized he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. Had there been a hint of regret in her voice?
Qazim turned to Grace. "What's going on, Grace?"
Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"
Qazim tilted his head. "You haven't been yourself all night."
Grace glanced away from him. "It's nothing," she said evenly.
There was that distance again, he told himself. He felt tension rise in him.
"You didn't like the food," he tested, knowing it couldn't be anything so trivial.
She squinted at him as if she couldn't believe he'd said that. "No," she scoffed. "It was every bit as perfect as it always is."
"Then what is it?" he asked more urgently.
Grace gazed out across the vista below. She released his hand and took a few steps forward, halting in front of the high glass window. He saw her wrap her arms around herself, just as she had done earlier. What was she trying to keep inside? Her shoulders looked suddenly tight.
He went across to her and placed his hands on her shoulders, massaging them gently. He heard her groan appreciatively.
She leaned her head to one side as if she was savoring his touch. Maybe things weren't as bad as he was telling himself, he thought. If she could still respond to him like this, perhaps there wasn't anything he should be concerned about.
Suddenly he knew he didn't want her to say anything to him. He didn't want to hear any words that would dull the edge of his desire.
Qazim moved around to Grace's side and quickly wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her near to him. He was instantly relieved that she didn't react by pulling away from him. But when she looked up into his eyes he could see hesitation there.
An awful uncertainty.
He didn't like that. Not one bit. And he knew he had a choice.
He could try more words. Try to make sense of what was bothering her.
Or he would have to do what instinct ordered him to do. What his senses demanded of him. What his desire was driving him toward.
Impulse seized him and he slid his arms up the length of Grace's back, feeling the smoothness of the silky fabric. He curled his hands around her shoulders and dragged her hungrily closer to him.
He felt the softness of her body press against his hardness. It felt exquisite and sudden relief flooded through him.
Grace's eyes widened and he felt her draw in a deep breath. He felt her breasts pressing hard against his torso and he sensed her nipples hardening.
Her mouth opened slightly and he thought she was about to object. But then her gaze softened in that way it did every time she wanted him.
She lifted a hand to his shoulder. Her head tilted and he knew his moment had come.
Their moment.
His head dipped and he kissed her. Sensation flooded through him and he heard her moan softly. Her lips opened for him and he teased her with his tongue, probing for pleasure, needing satisfaction.
He traced his hand up to the side of her face, cupping it gently, feeling the delicate softness of her hair against his skin. Her skin was intoxicatingly smooth.
He inhaled her scent, the sharp aroma of her perfume driving him momentarily wild.
His need became harsher, more insistent.
Her lips were soft and tender, and it was all he could do to restrain the sudden, vital ferocity of his desire. He knew he would have to contain it somehow.
For the moment, at least.
He held himself in check. His whole body was taut.
All his doubts had vanished in an instant. He held her against him, possessing her, crushing her against him, needing this closeness.
He hadn't realized until now just how much he had missed this feeling. And it had only been a day since they'd last been together.
The madness of the relationship, the sheer craziness of what they'd gotten themselves into, forced its way into his mind as he held her, kissing her ravenously.
He'd never felt like this with any other woman. Had never known it would be possible to feel this close to someone.
Grace took a step back and pressed herself against the high balcony window. But his lips didn't part from hers. Not for an instant.
He didn't dare let her go.
Qazim leaned against her, pushing her up against the strong glass panel. For a moment he realized that it was only the glass that stood between them tumbling downwards. And that seemed somehow right, because every one of his senses was soaring wildly. He felt completely disoriented.
But it felt so good to feel Grace against him; to feel her sweet, warm body; to taste her lips; to sense the warmth of her quickening breath.
Grace's legs parted slightly and Qazim shifted, pressing his need hard
against her. She responded with another groan of pleasure. He was sure he could feel her heat and it only encouraged him even more.
Qazim slid a hand up the front of her body and cupped one of her breasts, teasing the pebbled nipple through the thin fabric. Grace gasped.
Qazim savored the feel of her tender flesh, the exquisite shape of her. His own senses went wild as he felt her hand drift down to his own hard desire. He felt her press against him, shaping her hand around his arousal.
Any moment now it was going to become impossible to contain himself. He knew that with absolute certainty.
Qazim moved his hand down across Grace's belly. He grasped the fabric of her dress and lifted it with a sharp, insistent movement. Grace dragged in a sudden breath. He was still kissing her as his fingers sought out her core.
Both Grace's hands went to Qazim's shoulders. He felt her pull him closer, drawing him nearer, and he knew she was telling him what he needed to know.
She wanted him.
Still.
Qazim dragged his lips down the the length of her neck, his tongue tracing a line along her exquisite tasting skin.
His fingers teased their way to her core. He eased her apart and found her most sensitive place, circling his fingers slowly for a few tantalizingly long moments.
She moaned over and over. He felt her fingers claw at his shoulders.
Need flamed even hotter in him. She felt moist and ready for him.
Did he dare?
He lifted his head and his gaze met Grace's. Their eyes locked, a deep understanding exchanged without a single word being spoken.
An urgency seized him and he loosened himself. He shifted his hands to her hips and hoisted her up, holding her firmly, the hem of her dress gathered around her waist. The sight of her bare thighs made desire flame in him.
He saw her glance down, taking in the sight of his firmness. Her face flushed, the color reddening her cheeks.
He moved forward, shifting so that he was at her entrance. She gasped impatiently, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, holding onto him.
Then he thrust upwards, entering her, filling her. She breathed out sharply and he felt her tighten around him. This was where he was meant to be. Where he always wanted to be.
