Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  “It should be forbidden to be so handsome.” She raised her fingers, brushing his lashes and his eyebrow.

  How is such a simple, gentle touch so arousing? Alistair felt his whole body stir with that simple caress and he smiled down at her. “Should it?”

  Yes! “Those green eyes of yours put the leaves of the Amazon Forest to shame. And your dark lashes make them even more startling.” She cupped his face, sliding a finger over his nose and square jaw slowly. “Your regal nose,” and down her finger went, “your mouth. Everything about you is rugged, earthy. You’re…breathtaking.”

  “You’re stealing my lines. What am I supposed to say now?” He framed her face with his hands and his head bent, his forest-green eyes, blistering with desire, studying her. “Let’s go to my room. Or yours.”

  She blinked, feeling burned by his scorching gaze. “Alistair, don’t insist.”

  “I want you, Sophia. Badly.” His lips brushed hers, caressing smoothly, before lightly pressing his tongue on the seam of her lips. “You’ve turned me into a greedy, hungry beast.” Beauty and the beast. It figures.

  “I can give you a taste.” She opened to him like a flower seeking water and closed her eyes to enjoy all the passion he put in a simple kiss.

  Alistair’s lips were warm, soft, unyielding, and demanded total surrender.

  “I don’t want a taste. I want it all.” His hands released her face to wander over her shoulders and slowly down her body to find her breasts and palmed them over her cashmere sweater.

  Her hands sought his shoulders for support arching her back.

  “You’re like velvet, like silk,” he said between kisses and buried his face on her neck. “Say yes.”

  “Good things come…”—her head fell back, giving him total access to her throat—“to those who wait. Patience is a virtue, Alistair.”

  “I’m patient, but I’m no saint,” he murmured before smashing her lips into his with a savage kiss, When he broke it, he raised his head to look at her. His kiss left her panting with reddened and swollen lips. He couldn’t resist the vision of beauty in front of him; grabbing her by the hips, he made her straddle him.

  Sophia blinked, dizzy with lust, the kisses and the heady thrill of his love. “We’re outside.”

  “God won’t be offended,” he whispered back, dragging up her burgundy sweater with one hand as the other cupped her ass and yanked her tightly against him, grounding her against his erection. “You’re heaven, you’re paradise.”

  “This is blasphemy,” she teased in a hoarse voice. She leveled herself on his steel-like shoulder, moaning when his teeth nipped her earlobe, her fingers tangled in his silky hair. Sophia drank greedily from his mouth, stealing his breath away.

  “Nae, it’s no’. It’s gospel.” His right hand snaked under her Emilio Pucci tank top. His deft left hand popped open the button of her leather pants and pulled down the zipper, touching her smooth, flat stomach.

  She made a low, long, gasping sound and he smiled, devilishly.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, moving his mouth over her jaw to capture her mouth again in a hard kiss, coaxing the responses he wanted from her.

  Sophia lost herself in so many sensations. They started to move together, lust taking control. She felt his erection harden even more.

  His fingers touched her lace and satin panties and he growled in her mouth, the sound a rumble in his chest.

  Sophia started and broke the kiss, gasping. Disengaging from the embrace, she stepped away unsteadily, breathing heavily and adjusting her clothes back into place.

  Alistair rose and stood behind her, his arms hugging her waist, bringing her to lean on him. She could feel his raging erection on her back. Her head fell to the side, nestling between his chest and arm.

  “Shhh, it’s okay.” He rested his face on her cheek. “I told you we’re alone.”

  “That’s not it. I’m not that kind of woman. I don’t make out in public or…” She shook her head as she remembered Tavish’s and Alice’s earlier words. “You’re mistaking me for someone else.”

  “I’m not mistaking you for anyone else. I just got carried away,” he said, nonplussed, turning her in his embrace to face him. “We got carried away.” So, what kind of woman are you, Sophia? He bent his head and he whispered in her ear, “Don’t play coy with me.”

  “I’m not pretending,” she snapped at him, shoving both hands in her hair. “I’m confused.”

  “Confused about what?”

  She shook her head, mute.

  “Sophia, talk to me. What are you confused about?” He stroked her lip with his thumb.

  “My feelings,” she breathed. “I like you. I really do.” But I wish I didn’t. I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.

  “So?”

  “So?” she repeated, dumbly.

  “If you like me, why do you keep torturing me?” He lifted her face an inch more, and ordered, “Look at me, Sophia.”

  I don’t want to be hurt again. She slowly raised her eyelids. The intensity of emotions simmering inside her eyes startled him. “And if I said I was afraid?”

  “What are you afraid of?” he asked kindly. “Tell me and we’ll work it out together. There’s no reason to be afraid.”

  “I do like you. Nonetheless, I—” She smoothed a hand over his chest. “Please, don’t be angry…”

  “I’m not angry.” He shook his head amused. “I’m horny.”

  She rolled her eyes at him and continued, “Sometimes I think you’re more than you let me see. You’re so different from what I’m used to. You’re mercurial. As is your brother.”

  A thought struck his mind, leaving him cold. Baptist isn’t the only one in Britain that does that kind of service.

  “You’re…stubborn and overpowering,” Sophia whispered, her breath an airy kiss against the skin of his chest exposed by his V-neck black cashmere sweater. “You have a terrible temper. You’re arrogant, with a tendency to sulk, and you seek darkness. Your flaws are numerous and they are multiplying.”

  He couldn’t tell if she was joking or not. He growled and, squeezing her, dipped his head and bit her shoulder, making her cry out.

  “But then, you’re protective and steadfast. You’re kind and gentle. You’re intelligent and thoughtful.” Her fingers brushed his jaw softly, as if a breeze caressed him. “You make me laugh.”

  Laugh?! “Ah, I see. And this is a remarkable accomplishment?”

  “Yes, it is. You really make me laugh. I feel…happy when I’m around you.”

  “I don’t understand.” He stole a bemused glance at her.

  No man with any sense in his head made the mistake of thinking he understood women and Alistair had never before tried. But he wanted to understand Sophia.

  “So why do you keep pushing me away?”

  “I don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t push you away. It’s just that I don’t know you and I’m afraid.” Of my own feelings.

  “Very well.” He took a ragged breath. “So, let me tell you, Sophia, you’re unpredictable and mysterious. Utterly inconsistent and temperamental. Your mood is as changeable as the weather. I cannot read you, sweetheart.”

  “I’m not a book,” she scowled at him.

  “I know,” he chuckled. “Believe me, I do. You’re a ravishing woman, Sophia. An intriguing, fascinating, and stunning woman. A challenge. And I’ve always liked a challenge.”

  “I’m no challenge, either,” she snapped.

  He chuckled low in his chest. The sound was downright male. “Aye, you are. You know,” he breathed against her lips, his deep voice vibrating inside his chest, “it’s never been like this for me.”

  Cupping his jaw in her soft, long hands, she asked, “What? What has never been like this?”

  “A woman. This need, this desire, this yearning. It’s so strong, so uncontrollable, and so savage that it hurts.” His green eyes blistered her. “No one else will do. I crave you. Every minute, e
very second. Not only your body. It’s you. Only you. All of you.”

  His grip on her hips was so virile, so encompassing, so hot, that it emboldened her and she initiated a deep kiss. He responded as an eager, ardent, and wild partner. She found herself trapped between two muscular thighs with a hand on her butt pressing her firmly against his erection.

  Sophia felt a power rush through her body when Alistair’s hand gripped her shirt, raising it over her breasts. She knew she should stop him. The maze was no place for this. But she couldn’t.

  This power she had over him: intoxicating, terrifying, and glorious.

  Instead of stopping him, she wrapped her arms around his neck and moved her breasts toward the scorching heat of his chest. She rubbed against him to quench a wild thirst she had never acknowledged before. She felt caught in the middle of a storm she couldn’t control.

  Alistair’s deep groan transmitted the longing he felt. Longing for her body, longing for her soul.

  I want her as I’ve never wanted anyone. His hands clenched and unclenched on her tank top. God forgive me for promises unkept, but she’s gotten under my skin.

  “Is that a yes?” His voice, now hoarse from the exhilarating feeling of possessiveness coursing through his veins. She was kissing and licking him, wanting to explore every inch of his body. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. He inhaled sharply as her hands wandered under his sweater, her fingers outlining his sculpted abs, lowering to the seam of his jeans. Say aye, please.

  Her lips and tongue tasted the line of his jaw, fascinated and drugged by her power to undo this intense man. She inhaled his sweet, male scent, letting it fill her lungs. “No. This is a no. For now.” It’s a start, a promise.

  Alistair froze and lifted his head to glare at her.

  “You’re playing with fire, Sophia.” His hands clenched behind her back, his arms narrowing his embrace around her lean and beautiful body, pulling her flush to his hard frame. He warned, “You’re going to get burned.”

  I’m gathering my courage. She bit his neck and smirked at him. “So are you, Alistair Connor. So are you.”

  Scotland, Glasgow Airport

  Monday, March 8, 2010

  8:00 a.m.

  “Until Thursday.” Alistair’s hair shined a bluish-black in the frigid morning sunlight as he held her face in the warmth of his hands, drowning her in his forest-green eyes.

  Sophia suddenly regretted not having stayed with him in his room at Craigdale Castle as the thought of not seeing him for four days hit her hard. She wound her arms around his waist not wanting to let go.

  Alistair watched in pleased disbelief as Sophia almost curled into his chest, hugging him as if she wished to stay. She felt so small, fragile, and feminine against him. He gently stroked her back with his left hand as he held her jaw with the right, lifting it to look at her.

  “Hey,” he murmured, “what is it?”

  She stood on her tiptoes and murmured in his ear, “I’ll miss you, Alistair Connor.”

  He wanted her physically, and he’d never pretended otherwise. But now he felt a visceral reaction and an overwhelming tenderness filled his chest.

  Gently, she brushed his hair behind his ear, tracing its contour. “More than you could ever imagine.”

  Alistair felt an unfamiliar itch to do something stupid. To ignore what was right or wrong and whisk her away to a desert island until all this maddening lust and the insane unnamed emotion he felt for her slackened. Faded.

  He gave himself a brisk mental shake.

  “I’ll miss you, too.” He kissed her ardently, leaving her breathless. “Now, go! I have a meeting in thirty minutes and you have to go to London. Kiss my Fairy for me. Tell her she’s the most beautiful fairy of all.”

  “I will.” She brushed her lips over his and left his arms. She whispered, “Good-bye.”

  She stepped away, head down, feeling lonely and despondent.

  Suddenly his arms shot forward and he hauled her, airborne, back into his arms, face to face with him.

  “Sophia, Sophia,” he breathed on her lips before smashing them with a scorching kiss, branding her, tattooing her. With his smell, his mouth, his hands and his body. Marking her as his.

  She threw her arms around his neck and entangled her hands into his glorious hair, returning the kiss with all her might.

  He broke the kiss and put her on her feet again. “Only four days. Not even,” he murmured. “Three and a half days.”

  “I know.” His jacket muffled her voice. “It’s just…it seems a long time. I miss you already.”

  He kissed the top of her head and hugged her fiercely before pushing her tenderly off him. “Go. We can’t hold air traffic.”

  He stood there, mindless of the frigid wind blowing his long hair. He watched Sophia walk to his plane, turn, wave, and disappear inside it. When the door closed, an unrecognizable sensation spread and consumed his chest, leaving him dazzled by the powerful intensity of it.

  He shook his head and thinned his lips. Come now. This is just a passing infatuation. Once I have her, it’ll disappear.

  Turning his back to the aircraft, he resolutely marched to the marine BMW 760Li, and entered it without looking back.

  Atwood House

  Tuesday, March 9, 2010

  9:30 p.m.

  Sophia emerged from the bathroom toweling her wet hair and flung herself on the bed. Her iPhone screen showed eight WhatsApp messages and three calls. All unanswered.

  Oh, my! The man is freaking out. She quickly scanned the messages Alistair had sent over the last three hours and texted back.

  Sophia. 09:31 p.m. - Sorry, I was with G.

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:32 p.m. - It’s too late for her to go to sleep.

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:32 p.m. - I wanted to talk to you. I just entered a meeting.

  Sophia. 09:32 p.m. - She slept 1.5 hours ago. I ate something and just got out of the shower.

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:33 p.m. - :) Can I drop by to help dry you?

  Sophia could almost see his devilish green eyes flashing. A smile spread over her face as she texted back.

  Sophia. 09:34 p.m. - Yes, please. I’m quite wet!

  She grinned, imagining his body’s reaction to the text.

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:34. p.m. - Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!

  Sophia. 09:34 p.m. - =)

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:35 p.m. - :(

  Sophia. 09:35 p.m. - xx

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:36 p.m. - Think this is funny, huh?

  Sophia. 09:36 p.m. - Where are you?

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:37 p.m. - Still in an endless, boring meeting at the bank. No light at the end of the tunnel. !!!

  Sophia. 09:37 p.m. - Poor baby! Call me tomorrow morning, then.

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:39 p.m. - Sleep well, Beauty.

  Sophia. 09:39 p.m. - You, too. Dream of me. Good night. xx

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 09:41 p.m. - As if I could avoid it. You’ve taken permanent residence in my mind. Good night. X

  And in your heart, Alistair Connor? Who resides in your heart?

  Chapter 12

  London, The City, L’Anima

  Wednesday, March 10, 2010

  1:00 p.m.

  Sophia’s iPhone vibrated for the umpteenth time. It was in her purse which she had placed on her thighs. She discreetly took out the phone and glanced down at her lap. Alerts and banners filled her screen.

  Dear God! Seven WhatsApp messages, three e-mails, and two calls. She quickly scanned his messages. Doesn’t he have to work?

  09:31 a.m. - Morning, Beauty.

  10:43 a.m. - Miss you.

  11:39 a.m. - Busy?

  11:57 a.m. - Sarah doesn’t know your whereabouts. Where are you?

  12:33 p.m. - I’m becoming anxious and you’re not helping. :(

  12:58 p.m. - Answer the damn phone. !!!!

  01:00 p.m. - You
are so dead on Thursday.

  Edward caught her looking at her iPhone and tapped her foot under the table. “Mrs. Leibowitz shares my opinion about the generator design we have sent you, Mr. Robin.”

  She closed her fingers over the phone and looked sheepishly at him, who glared at her in return, pushing back the blonde lock. I’m sorry, Mr. CEO. I’m sorry.

  “Yes, of course,” Sophia smiled candidly at the two technicians and the senior partner of Robin Enterprises seated at the round table opposite her. She ignored the buzzing of another message and paid attention to the conversation.

  Edward started to explain about the budget of Leibowitz Oil and his voice became distant as her cell phone vibrated again, and she peered down, incapable of holding back her curiosity.

  01:14 p.m. - Are you angry with me?

  01:19 p.m. - Is everything alright with you?

  Decidedly, the man has freaked out. Again.

  Sophia. 01:19 p.m. - CALM DOWN!

  Sophia. 01:19 p.m. - Text you back in 15.

  I’m-so-handsome-and-I-know-it. 01:21 p.m. - NO NEED FOR CAPITAL LETTERS.

  Sophia. 01:22 p.m. - NO NEED TO FREAK OUT.

  Sophia smiled and shoved her cell phone in her purse. The lunch finished without any other messages or calls.

  Scotland, Inverness, Cafe 1

  1:30 p.m.

  Alistair’s face had become so dark and taut that Tavish nudged him in the ribs and whispered, “You’re going to scare the clients away. What’s going on?”

  “Nothing,” he replied, his voice clipped. He put down his silverware, his stomach was queasy. “Go on, Tavish Uilleam, grab their account.”

  Tavish threw him a dirty look and turned to the three men at the table, while Alistair scowled at his iPhone screen as if it were responsible for his bad mood. Tavish glanced at Alistair and kicked his shin to make him pay attention to the business at hand.

  As the conversation flowed, he flicked his gaze at his phone a few more times.