Misha could have laughed over the turnaround had she not been so on edge. Just the day before, she was arriving at this room in this very hotel suave and in total control. Now she felt like a maiden being led to her deflowering. Stop it, Misha! The man simply wanted them someplace where they wouldn’t be disturbed during the interview. It sounded plausible enough, so why didn’t she believe it?
Talib certainly wasn’t doing anything to help ease her concerns. The elevator ride hadn’t seemed nearly so long before. This time, it positively dragged. Misha put distance between them in the car, which seemed pathetically tight when Talib made a point of invading her space. Misha opened her mouth to argue, knowing she’d never have the chance to speak.
She was right. Talib was kissing her seconds later. Had she known this was the plan, she’d have dressed far more conservatively. Talib’s earlier inspection of her dress offered him expert reign over every inch of it.
“Talib, someone could—” She gave into another eager kiss before willing herself to pull back again. “Talib someone could get on—”
“I’ll stop then, I promise.”
The intensity of his caresses and the rapacious thrusting of his tongue offered Misha little hope that he’d keep that promise.
“Talib, please,” she insisted when he held her high next to the paneled wall of the car. She couldn’t believe that was her voice and she criticized herself for begging. She never begged. Men begged her—she never begged.
As she’d noted once, however, those men weren’t Talib Mason. He hadn’t a care for where they were, if the scandalous nature of his touch was any example. She was effectively pinned between the elevator paneling and the solid wall of his chest. His hands were free to cup and coax at will.
He found the lacy edge of her panties and she criticized herself again for wearing stockings instead of hose.
“Talib, mmm…” Then her high moan filled the car. Misha bit her lip in an effort to bring her breathing under control.
“This is my floor,” Talib said and brought the pleasure-providing finger to his mouth and suckled off the moisture she’d planted there.
Misha barely recalled leaving the car.
“More?” Talib asked, glancing toward the strawberry shortcake he’d all but massacred.
Misha had nursed her first and only slice. Talib made her sit through a delicious yet lengthy meal. She found herself clearing her throat to mute the moans which plagued her infrequently as visions of their elevator romp replayed in her mind.
“Coffee?”
She waved away the offer and forced herself to regain a smidge of control over the situation.
“Are we going to discuss the story, Talib?”
“Of course we are.” He wiped his hands and tossed the dark linen napkin to his dessert plate. “Where’d we leave off?”
Thankful, Misha grabbed her pad. “You were discussing college—its hardships.” She reached for the pens that rolled across the table.
“Right.” He grabbed a bottle and tipped it toward her. “More wine?”
Misha used both hands to wave off the offer. Instead, she grabbed back onto her pad and pens as though they were her lifeline.
“Why don’t we move this into the living room?” Talib suggested, already standing from the table set next to the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Misha took the chair farthest away from the end of the sofa he’d chosen. Silently, she prayed he was still of a mind to be candid regarding parts of his past.
He was. Settling back, he took a sip of wine and considered his words.
“I wasn’t a brain, but I understood the importance of school—the power it could afford. Seeing it through until the very end was my greatest goal.”
“I’m sure that made your mother proud.” Misha didn’t look up from her pad.
“Yes. It would have.”
Her pen stopped. She looked up in shock and was seconds away from her next question.
“Sit next to me.”
She looked back toward her pad. “We should really make some headway with this.”
“Which is my intention—don’t you want to continue?”
“Yes.” She scooted to the edge of her chair. “Yes, of course I want to continue.” The curiosity was about to drive her insane.
“Sit next to me, then.” He propped his index finger alongside his temple.
Curiosity won out over reluctance. Misha was planting her bottom to the sofa when he tugged her to straddle his lap. She melted into the kiss without argument…at first. Then, somehow, she drew back.
“You once accused me of sleeping with you for a story.” Her fingers curved into the wintergreen shirt that hung outside his trousers. “Is that what this is?” He was kissing her throat slow and openmouthed and she was quickly losing her grasp on anything rational. “Talib? Is this some trick?” She moaned. “I give in and in the morning you throw it back in my face?”
His mouth continued to roam her skin, then he cupped a hand around the base of her neck. “Quiet,” he instructed.
She melted anew, not caring at all about what he threw in her face later. She wanted him and heaven help him if he thought to disappoint her then. She kissed him with an eagerness that drew what could only be surmised as a growl from his throat.
The scene had her throbbing and intent on claiming the orgasm she’d been desperately craving since he came back in her life. Boldly, she tugged at the fastening of his slate-gray trousers. She tugged more insistently, realizing he wasn’t quite ready to give her access to what she sought.
Instead, Misha found herself on her back moments later and drowning in the pleasure of his perfect mouth on her body. When he finally let her up, she was limp, drunk on arousal and completely nude. He pulled her from the sofa and carried her to the bedroom.
Misha didn’t care what she ripped while trying to get him out of his finely crafted shirt. She wanted to laugh once she tasted triumph. Her French tips grazed his honey-toned flesh, cut with an array of muscle.
They barely made it past the doorway. Tumbling to the floor, neither registered the contact as they kissed and caressed each other with smoldering, needy strokes.
Talib’s mouth was everywhere, caressing, nibbling, gnawing as he kept her on her stomach and worked his way down her body.
“Talib, please,” she moaned. Desperate to face him, she knew he had no intentions of allowing that. Especially when he rose up behind, trapped her wrists before her and reached around to tease her nipples with his free hand.
Misha rested her forehead on the plush navy carpeting and submitted to whatever he had in store.
“Yes,” she moaned when his finger drifted high between her legs and he sheltered one, two, three fingers inside the folds of her sex.
“Yes,” she gasped in anticipation of release, then repeated the word as she rode his fingers.
She sobbed when he stopped short of her satisfaction. Anger ceased to sparkle in Misha’s black stare when Talib put his hands on the buckle of his belt. Like a conditioned subject, she waited with her gaze riveted on the hands hovering at the belt. She didn’t move, fearing he’d find some other way to make her wait.
Talib was done with that. He craved her as wildly as she did him. He wouldn’t deny the arrogant surge rushing through him at the blatant lust and approval glittering in her eyes.
All fastenings undone, his trousers and boxers fell and Misha moved to her knees, not minding at all how sex-crazed she may have appeared.
“Give me a second, love,” Talib urged as her lips and tongue traveled his torso. He was barely able to reach for the condoms in a cup on the nightstand.
He’d scarcely put protection in place before she was guiding him inside her. He winced, his beautiful features tightening in the wake of elation as her wet walls encased him. He noticed the slight frown mar her brow quickly and instinctively pulled back.
“Am I hurting you?”
Misha locked her legs around his back
. “No. I’m okay.”
He grunted something harsh and ragged, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He wanted her every way he could take her. Before the night ended, he damn well intended to accomplish that.
Just then, though, he only needed to be inside her. He needed her loving him, welcoming him, taking him.
Chapter 10
Misha woke, instantly expecting some ugliness in payback for her lack of control the night before. It had been beautiful, but so was every time between her and Talib. But that hadn’t stopped things from souring, did it?
Squirming under the covers then, she could barely move. Talib was resting almost dead center across her body.
“Tali?” Her voice was soft because she was practically out of breath. “Tal?” She nudged her bottom against his shaft. She bit her lip, discovering that he was semi-hard even at rest. Someone give her strength.
“Talib?” Misha ordered more force to her voice then and gave him another nudge.
“Mmm?” He woke with a start, then settled back down and favored her shoulder with a kiss. “You okay?” He curved an arm tighter about her waist.
Misha forgot any breathing discomforts then. The softness of his voice, his lips trailing her skin…this was no slap in the face and she wanted to enjoy it while it lasted.
Talib was waking though and turned her to her back to study her closely. “Are you really all right?”
Misha nodded, but failed to maintain contact with the dark eyes probing hers.
Talib understood, knowing she was probably mentally kicking herself because of what they’d done. Not much longer. Not much longer would she doubt them. He swore it.
“What would you like for breakfast?” He drew hair from her eyes and studied every inch of her face.
“Talib, I should go.”
“After you eat.”
“No. Now. It’s bad enough to be leaving a hotel early morning in a cocktail dress. I won’t make it worse by pushing my checkout time to noon.”
“Well, I’m starved.” He dropped a kiss to her nose. “And since I drove, you’re stuck.”
“That’s what cabs are for.”
Her flip remark was not well received. Once again, he smothered her with his weight.
“You once asked me to stop pretending I had no idea what I was doing. I’ll ask the same of you now. Stop acting like you’ve got no idea what last night was about.” His dark eyes seemed even more opaque as anger filtered his words. “Stop making it out to be some one-night stand.”
“But wasn’t it?” Misha swallowed her unease. “You’ll be going back to Phoenix soon.” She hadn’t the nerve to question the sly dimpled grin he gave in response.
Her heart crept to her throat when he settled in snugly against her. Her moan wavered beyond parted lips when his hands roamed up under her back, forcing her breasts to flatten against his chest.
“It’d be best if you kept the majority of your responses to ‘Whatever you say, Talib.’” He made the suggestion while nibbling her ear and collarbone.
She smirked. “Blindly follow you, in other words?”
He nuzzled the base of her throat. “I like the sound of that.”
“What if I don’t?”
“You will.”
The kiss between them then merged into something Misha was certain would be an extension of the pleasure he’d reintroduced her to throughout the night and early-morning hours.
Talib was back to torturing her though. He broke the kiss while Misha was in the midst of driving her tongue hungrily against his.
“Get ready for breakfast,” he said before slanting her a wink and leaving the bed.
“Sounds like this man still loves you.”
Misha cast a frown toward the man seated cross-legged on the brown leather armchair. “Exactly how do men do that? Turn hate, love, desire, disgust off and on like a light switch? I’ve always been fascinated by that ability. Is it something learned or something you’re all born with?”
Dr. Harold Zeitz gave a playful shrug. “Many times, it’s a ploy to draw a woman in, lots of times they’re terrified of her and trying to protect themselves, and—”
“Lots of times they really do hate and are disgusted by her.”
Dr. Zeitz nodded. “But from what you’ve told me about Talib, if he truly hated or were disgusted by you then he’d not be going to such lengths to be with you.”
“Unless he was formulating some plan to hurt me.” Misha didn’t care if she sounded paranoid. She glared at her therapist as though he should have at least suspected that possibility.
Dr. Zeitz uncrossed his legs and leaned back. “Do you really believe that?”
Misha shook her head no.
“Then what’s the issue here? Why are you afraid to let this man in when it’s obvious you love him, too?”
“How do you know it’s obvious?” Misha whirled around, facing the doctor with amazement in her stare.
Harold Zeitz’s handsome, tanned face softened more in the wake of humor. “Misha, I made a career of observing the things people say and do. You have no idea how your demeanor changes when you speak about Talib Mason.” The doctor waved toward his patient. “Today it’s very obvious. This is the most you’ve ever spoken of him and even during those other times I’ve caught enough of a glimpse to clue me in to your feelings for him.”
“Jeez,” Misha groaned, flopping to the sofa and holding her head in her hands. “I’ve been doing just fine without him. The drama between us happened over six years ago. I’ve accepted that it’s over. I’m successful. I’ve got lots of friends, some very good ones. I’m respected in my field and—”
“And without the man you love. Puts a bit of a shadow across all the rest, doesn’t it?”
Misha appeared smug. “I can’t think of one time I’ve felt depressed looking at my bank statement, Doc.”
“Really?”
The simple inquiry broke through her steel shell quickly. She wilted. “He thinks I’m a slut. At least, he did the last time we were together.”
“Did he say that?”
“He said ‘only one type of woman sleeps with a man for professional gain’ and that he should’ve expected it of a woman like me. So why don’t you tell me what he meant.”
“It sounds like he was hurting.” The doctor trailed a thumb along the crease in his slacks and considered his explanation. “That hurt perhaps goes farther back than anything that happened between the two of you.”
The doctor’s words sent Misha deep into thought, as well. “His mother couldn’t afford to send him to school. I always assumed…she’s passed away. I didn’t know any of this until he told me for a story.”
“Do you believe it’s the only reason he shared it?” the doctor probed when Misha silenced.
“I, um…” She sat on the arm of the sofa and kept her back toward the therapist. “Some time before that, I blurted out that I was never good enough for him. I think I was just as surprised by the outburst as he was.”
“Indeed. Especially with all your success and the great things you boast of.”
“All right already, you’ve made your point.” She pounded a fist to the sofa arm and stood. “I love him, so what? Love certainly didn’t make things go so smoothly before.”
“Perhaps that didn’t have as much to do with you as you thought. Talib Mason sounds like a private man.” The doctor traded the seat of his chair for the arm. “The road to getting him to reveal a deep-seeded issue may not be an easy one to travel.”
“But necessary if I expect answers,” Misha guessed.
“If you want answers.”
“I do.” She fiddled with a dangling earring and nodded. “I do. I’ve traveled hard roads before. Taking this one would definitely be worth it.”
“And when you reach the end of it?” Dr. Zeitz turned his head toward Misha but didn’t make full eye contact. “Will you be willing to turn the corner and share your own hurt?”
Misha couldn’t answ
er that question.
Talib and Asher were laughing over a comment Claudette made about Ducker Conrad. Eventually, though, the conversation turned serious again as the three acknowledged they hadn’t seen the last of the troubles surrounding their client.
Asher stroked the back of his hand across the scar along his cheek and whispered a curse. “This guy’s got some real issues and I wish we’d taken more account of it before.”
“He’s a spoiled jackass is all.” Claudette’s voice sounded through the phone speaker. “We’ve dealt with these types before.”
“Yeah, but sometimes, these types have to be handled a certain way,” Talib added. “Many of those ways don’t involve conference calls.”
“Meaning one of you is gonna have to come back out here?”
Talib groaned. “One of us is gonna have to come out there.”
Claudette was silent on the other end. The efficient assistant clearly assessed her bosses’ need for a little privacy.
“It’ll look better for you to be the one to go out and handle this, seeing as how the West will be your domain. Besides, you and Duck go way back.”
Talib realized that it would have to be him long before he heard Asher speak the words. Nodding somberly, he stood and began to pace the office.
“Take her with you.” Asher read his partner’s mood again while leaning over to top off his coffee.
Talib laughed. “And by what means do you propose, my friend? Kidnapping or bribery? Surely you don’t think my just asking would get the job done?”
Asher shrugged. “It might.”
“Dammit, I need more time.” Talib connected a fist to his palm. “I need a lot more time. Trust isn’t an easy thing to win back, mate.”
“Tell me about it.” Asher grimaced. “So what about the story?”
Talib rubbed fingers through his hair and walked over to stare past the windows. “I’ve got her attention, but then I expected it. Before I started to…share, I never thought of how little she really knew about me.”
“Man, she’s a reporter and the woman who loves you. I’d say she’s very interested in who you are.” Asher chuckled then. “Hell, how long have we known each other? I don’t even know the half of it, I bet.”
Every Chance I Get Page 7
