"Your hair is beautiful." He drew back to look at her again, his gaze slowly going over her face, an intense look in his eyes as they finally settled on her mouth.
Instinctively, Faith licked her dry lips, aware that Ali's gaze followed the movement of her tongue. It sent a thrill racing through her, weakening her knees.
She glanced at his mouth, that beautifully sculptured mouth. He was so close now his lips were just a heartbeat away.
She wondered what it would feel like to have that mouth on hers, hungry, demanding, fulfilling.
The thought utterly shocked her, and her palms grew damp, her body moist, as she tried to ignore the thought and focus instead on moving her feet, following his lead, but her attention kept drifting to the feel of him, his touch and what it was doing to her.
"You should wear your hair down more often," he whispered again, still watching her with those dark eyes. "It is enchanting."
"Thank you." Pressed against him, she could feel his arousal, feel the barely leashed power of his magnificent body.
Never taking his eyes off of her, Ali stroked a finger down her cheek, across her chin, lifted it to her mouth to gently, sensuously rub it against her bottom lip.
Her breath caught. She felt her reserves slip away and let her gaze linger on his lips. Her own mouth parted slightly, tingling from his touch.
She could feel her breath wither out of her; it was an effort to breathe. She wanted to taste his lips, to feel his mouth on hers. She wanted it with a desperation that shocked her.
As if sensing her desire, his arms tightened around her, pulling her closer until there wasn't room for a breath between them.
Her guard collapsed as she tilted her head up, knowing, wanting him to kiss her.
"Faith." Her name was a whispered caress as he lowered his head, and gently, lightly teased her lips with his.
Fire shot through her limbs, weakening them, and she clung to him, wanting more, knowing she was going to get burned and, for the moment, not caring.
Logic deserted her, every warning she'd ever whispered to herself like a mantra evaporated as Ali's mouth, softly, sensuously moved against her, making her ache with need, with desire.
She moaned softly, desperately dragging his head down to deepen the kiss for one riotous moment of undisciplined madness. Only one moment, she told herself. It was all she'd allow herself.
His mouth came down on hers. Not gentle, not coaxing, but possessive, demanding. Claiming all that he'd wanted, desired, needed.
"Oh God." Her words were a plea, a prayer, as she threaded her fingers through the silk of his hair.
Desire, hot and hungry, shot through her system, buckling her defenses. She clung tighter, tightening her arms around him to bring him closer, to hang on as the whirlwind caught her, flinging her into the wanton world of desperate, achy desire.
Need. Sweet Lord, he'd never felt this need, this all-encompassing power to possess a woman, to claim, to put his stamp on her. He was experienced, but had never experienced this jolt of such unbridled desire, hot, dangerous, demanding to be fueled, fed, sated.
He couldn't breathe. His lungs felt as if they were filled with cotton candy. His mind clouded, his senses blurred until all that remained were feelings, the feelings Faith had aroused in him. Wild. Desperate. Frantic.
It caught Ali, stunning him, nearly blinding him with the knowledge that he could be reduced to a mass of hard, aching flesh.
And only that.
By Faith. Plain, simple Faith.
She was not the kind of woman he'd ever imagined, but this moment, in his arms, her response was all he'd ever wanted. Unbridled passion and heat, given freely, unequivocally, with an energy and desire that matched his own.
"Ali."
She moaned his name, and he took the moan with his mouth, opening it slightly, letting his tongue tease her lips, hearing her soft moan again, as she pressed all of her feminine glory against him, standing on tiptoe to return the passion that threatened to engulf them in a blazing inferno.
His hand fisted in her hair, and he tilted her head to better devour, to taste, to savor, knowing that this would never be enough.
It was like waving a pitcher of glistening ice water in front of a man perishing from thirst and telling him he could only have a sip.
One little sip.
All this kiss had done was whet his appetite for more. More of her.
"Oh God." The words came out a husky whisper. With her senses reeling, her mind spinning, Faith struggled against the feelings that engulfed her, fighting for control, for some semblance of sense.
But desire dug in, clawed for purchase, then spread through her. Her nipples hardened against the fabric of her dress, and she rubbed against him, trying to ease the sudden ache, the throbbing that made her want to scream in utter, absolute frustration.
She had been reduced to all that she'd feared her whole life by one kiss.
"Faith." He dragged her closer, trying to absorb her touch, her taste, her scent into his senses.
This was Faith, a woman who, until now, he never realized was far more powerful with her simple clothes and her plain presentation. A woman who disdained him, his title, his bloodlines and even his bank account. A woman who had more feminine power than all of the beautiful women he'd ever encountered all rolled together.
She had the power to not only touch his body but, he realized with a fear he'd not known in years, his impenetrable heart.
His breath was gone, his legs wobbly, his mind reeling with the knowledge that Faith had the power to destroy him with just a kiss. A simple kiss.
But perhaps not so simple.
A kiss that changed the way he looked at her, saw her, thought of her.
And himself.
He felt weak, vulnerable, capable of being hurt.
It frightened him as nothing had since his youth. No woman had ever had such power over him, not since Jalila.
"Ali." Frightened, Faith pulled away from him, trying to take a breath. Her head was spinning. "We—This—" She shook her head, trying to clear it, to step out of the fog, but she was unable to put her tumbling thoughts together coherently.
Somehow the music had stopped, started again. Couples, oblivious to them on the crowded floor, danced around them.
Resolve resurfaced, and with it, the knowledge that she had done the unthinkable. The thing she'd sworn her whole life never to do.
Let physical or emotional need render her senseless. Witless.
Like her mother.
Faith glanced around and realized they were in the middle of a dance floor at an elegant black-tie gala. And she'd been standing here kissing Ali with the abandon of a sixteen-year-old.
Embarrassed, she shook her head, trying to shake some sense back into it.
"I'm sorry, this shouldn't have happened." She had to swallow. Her throat was so dry it was difficult to speak. "We…we can't do this."
Regret, sharp and deep, streaked through her. She knew this man was a danger to her. Knew it, and had walked willingly into his arms.
Just like her mother had done so many times with her father.
The thought was like a splash of cold water and Faith tried to take a step back, to put some much-needed distance between them, hoping distance would quell the heat that was still rocking her body with aftershocks.
"Can't?" Ali looked at her, his face thunderous. Can't was not a word he was used to, people rarely denied him anything. Especially a woman. How could she stand here and deny the most elemental feelings that surged so gloriously between them?
If he wasn't so aroused, so unfulfilled, so filled with longing he would have been amused that she could think such a ludicrous thought.
"I believe it is too late for can'ts, Faith." He reached for her again, but she stepped back, out of his reach, holding her hands in front of her like an armor.
"Like it or not, it has happened." He would not let her deny something that had so profoundly affected him. Could not let
her deny it, not when the evidence of their passion was so visible.
Her eyes were glazed, hazy with passion, a passion he knew had not yet fully developed, or exploded. When it did, he knew it would be a beautiful thing.
Two bright spots of color touched her cheeks, and her mouth—that beautiful, glorious, sensuous mouth—was parted and slightly swollen from their kiss. He wanted to cover her mouth with his again, to sip of her sweetness, to feel her body pressed against his, to feel her heat match his.
"I want you," he said simply, slipping an arm around her slender waist to draw her closer. He couldn't bear to have her so near and yet so far. "You want me. It is not a complicated thing. Do not be afraid of what you feel, of what is between us. It is the most natural thing in the world."
"No." She shook her head, and even though her legs were shaking, she stepped out of his embrace. She wasn't afraid of what was between them—she was terrified of it to the tips of her soul.
"I don't want you," she lied, raising her chin and letting her gaze defiantly meet his.
He looked at her long and hard for a moment. "Your mouth tells lies your body denies, Faith." A small, sad smile touched his lips. "Who is lying now, Faith?" he asked quietly. "Who is lying now?"
Ashamed that he'd turned the tables on her, she shook her head. Desire was still roaring restlessly through her. She wanted nothing more than to walk back into his arms, to hold him.
Which was precisely why she knew she couldn't ever go back to that place she'd just visited.
Not ever. It was far too dangerous.
"I'm not lying." She wished her voice was firmer, stronger, more believable. Even to her own ears she sounded weak. It infuriated and shamed her.
"I don't want you." Maybe if she kept saying it, it would be so.
"Ah, but I want you." He trailed a finger sensuously down her bare arm, making her body quake, and her blood heat, wanting to prove to her, to force her to see what was between them.
She jerked back, unwilling to admit that just his slightest touch could reduce her to mush. "You can't have me."
She couldn't succumb to passion, couldn't forget all that she'd learned growing up, all the pain and heartache a man like this could bring to a woman's life. To her life.
"Oh, but I will have you, Faith," he whispered confidently, only infuriating her.
"You arrogant…" Her voice trailed off and she caught herself before she said something she knew she'd regret. Her eyes darkened. Anger quickly smothered the passion, making her realize how foolish she'd been. She welcomed the anger; it was familiar, comfortable, something she knew she could handle. "I don't know who you think you are—"
"I thought you knew." His voice had gone soft again, laced with steely determination. "I am Sheik Ali El-Etra—"
"Auggh!" She wanted to smack him. "You're gonna start with that nonsense again? Tossing your title around like I should bow to you?"
"Nonsense?" His brows drew together slowly as he tried to comprehend what she'd just said to him. No one had ever dared refer to his title as nonsense. He stiffened, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "There are those who would bow merely because of my title, Faith."
Frustrated and fuming, she blew out a breath. The man was insufferable. Arrogant and pigheaded.
"Yeah, well, I'm not one of them. I am not one of your beautiful bevy of the brainless. Nor am I interested in a one-night stand, I don't care who you are." Eyes shooting sparks, Faith lifted her chin. "And I have a news flash for you, Sheik. You may have had everything you've ever wanted in life up until now, but there's one thing you will never have." She gave his chest a poke, furious at the smug arrogance shimmering in his eyes. "Me."
With that, Faith turned on her heel and marched away, leaving Ali standing in the middle of the dance floor, alone, staring after her with a perplexed look on his face.
"Ah, dear Faith, but on this too you are wrong." Slipping his hands in his pocket, he watched her sail through the doors into the cool, dark evening with a confident smile. "I will have you."
Four
Prosperino, California
In the dark, the elegant Colton estate rose like a proud, welcoming beacon atop a high, rocky cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean.
A cool, foggy mist swirled in the evening wind, rising through the darkness, wrapping the elegant mansion in a lazy, hazy shawl.
Moonlight silhouetted the jagged cliffs and the aprons of beach scattered along the shoreline. The scent of salt and the ocean mingled with the fragrance of tea roses, dianthus and begonias from the grounds' magnificent gardens, perfuming the night air with a sweet, subtle bouquet.
Christened Hacienda del Alegria—House of Joy—the sprawling Colton house had once rung with laughter and love, children and family.
But not anymore, Emily Blair Colton thought sadly, as she crossed the circular driveway at the front of the house. Now the house held more tension and sadness than anything else.
Although it was late and dark, she dreaded going home, dreaded going into the house that had once been a home.
But not any longer.
Pausing in the darkness, silhouetted by shafts of the high moon, Emily glanced up at the house that had once meant security and stability to her, the home that had once meant everything to her.
She shivered in the darkness, pulling her sweater tighter around her. Her life had changed when she was eleven.
Rubbing a throbbing spot on her temple, Emily slowly began walking, making her way up the rest of the drive toward the front entrance.
Everything in her life was now referenced by the accident.
Before the accident.
After the accident.
Before the accident her life had been blissful, happy, secure. She and her adopted mother had been so close.
She'd been a toddler when her parents had been killed and she'd been taken in as a foster child and then adopted by Joe and Meredith Colton.
Meredith had quickly nicknamed her Sparrow because of her slight frame and slender body.
With the Coltons she'd found the security and stability that had been shattered with her parents' untimely deaths, and something far more important—love.
They'd adopted her, given her their name, made her theirs. Her relationship with her new brothers and sisters, her parents, and especially her mother couldn't have been more perfect. She was once again safe, loved, protected.
Her mother, Meredith, had become the most important person in her life. She'd admired her, loved her, wanted to be just like her.
Until the accident.
Emily sighed as she started up the steps, digging in the front pocket of her shorts for her house key.
The day her life forever changed.
The morning of the accident, she and her mother had been on their way to visit Emily's grandmother when their car had been run off the road. Although neither was seriously injured, the after-effects of the accident had been devastating.
The exact details and events of that day were still fuzzy in Emily's mind, still troublesome because she couldn't remember everything. And trying to remember always brought on such blinding, vicious headaches. Lately, too, she'd been plagued by terrible nightmares.
That day had become a blur in her mind. She could remember very little of the details before she'd been brought to the emergency room, but one important detail had never left her: When she'd regained consciousness at the site, she'd seen two of her mother.
For some reason, even now, if she closed her eyes, she could still see the two images of her mother beside the mangled car. Two identical images.
Emily blinked, rubbing her eyes, thinking the vision would go away. It didn't. When she opened her eyes both her mothers were still there.
And for some reason, whenever she thought of the two mothers, she thought of one as good and one as evil.
Although she'd not been seriously injured that day, she had suffered a concussion, and that was what the doctors had blamed for her subsequent nightmares,
headaches and her misguided memories.
She'd told the doctors about seeing two of her mother, but they brushed aside her story, saying she was merely experiencing double vision from her head injury.
But Emily knew it wasn't just double vision. Something terrible had happened that day. And not just to her.
Ever since the accident, her kind, gentle, loving mother had changed into a stranger Emily no longer knew.
At first, she'd thought the drastic change in her mother was a result of Meredith's injuries in the accident. Emily had waited and waited, expecting the cold, distant stranger who called herself her mother to disappear, and her real mother to return.
It had never happened.
Words couldn't begin to describe the loss she'd felt, still felt every single day. She'd loved her mother, depended on her and now…
Emily sighed, checking the alarm box on the house and wondering why the alarm was turned off. Her parents always set the alarm before going out for the evening.
Now Emily wasn't certain she even knew or liked the woman who called herself her mother.
It was a loss she felt all the way to her soul. She couldn't talk to her dad about it, knowing that, he, too, sensed a change in her mom. She didn't want to upset him, didn't want him to know how deeply troubled she was by her mother's behavior.
With no one else to confide in, Emily had found herself confiding in her cousin Liza. At twenty, she was a few years younger than her cousin, who had the voice of an angel and a face to match.
Growing up, they'd become very close, and in some ways Liza had become a sister to her.
Liza completely understood Emily's confusion and fears about her mother. Liza's own mother was a cold, calculating, workaholic attorney who'd had little time for her, until she'd discovered Liza's beautiful singing voice.
Then Cynthia Turner Colton had become relentless in her pursuit to have Liza become a singing star. Liza's childhood had been reduced to lessons, practicing and performances, until the poor girl was so weary, all she wanted was some peace and quiet away from her controlling, demanding mother.
It was natural she gravitated toward the Colton house, and the warm, relaxed family atmosphere. Anxious to escape her own unhappy home, Liza spent as much time as possible at their house and had enjoyed a close, loving relationship with her Aunt Meredith, who had become like a surrogate mom to her.
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