Clare Connelly Pairs: Warming the Sheikh’s Bed & Love in the Fast Lane

by Connelly , Clare

  “Face the mirror,” he murmured, his dark eyes heavy on her as she walked. Her legs were shaking, but it wasn’t from fear. It was from sensual awareness.

  Cassie loved sex. She loved sex with handsome men she barely knew. But she always retained control.

  Not this time, and it was thrilling. She stood as he’d said, right in front of the mirror.

  She watched in the reflection as he undressed slowly. Intentionally slowly. And with each moment that stretched between them, she felt her insides slick with sensual heat.

  Finally, he came behind her. His arousal was snug against her rear; she almost gasped at his strong proximity.

  “Put your arms up, and brace against the mirror. You will feel more if you are not taking your weight.”

  Sassy replies came to her mouth but she bit them back. This ride was far too much fun to question the operator.

  He brought his fingers back to her and began to stoke her fires anew. His mouth moved over her back and all the while the reminder of his powerful arousal was hard against her.

  Her orgasm made her whole body shake and tremble. The reaction was uncontrollable, and in the midst of it, he positioned himself and entered her from behind.

  She had thought she was done, but it sent wave after wave of renewed pleasure zinging almost unpleasantly over her body. She dragged her hands down the mirror, her eyes incapable of looking away. The reflection showed their passionate coming together. His possession of her was absolute. As he moved powerfully inside her, his hands fondled her breasts, teasing her nipples, tormenting her fullness, and his mouth kissed the nape of her neck.

  She exploded, almost collapsing from the burden of her pleasure. But he simply shifted position and again drove Cassie to new heights of sensual joy.

  Her body was weak from the pleasurable assault. Sweat had beaded on her forehead and her limbs were shaking.

  His hands were warm and demanding; his mouth was insistent. She cried out as the dam wall collapsed over her, breaking apart and taking with it every vestige of her sanity.

  He exploded at the same time with a guttural cry; an animalistic groan tore through the empty dressing room.

  The only sound then was that of their tortured, fevered breathing.

  Cassie felt like stars were exploding in her brain.

  She’d had plenty of one night stands, but nothing – ever – to match this experience.

  The Man had powerfully redefined the boundaries of sex for Cassie. He’d blown every other experience she’d ever had out of the water.

  And she didn’t even know his name.

  2

  “It’s Layth.”

  She blinked her pale blue eyes, seeking his in the mirrored reflection.

  “My name is Layth Sati.”

  She hadn’t even realised she’d spoken the question aloud. Cassie moved gingerly away from him, the slight wince causing his eyes to narrow watchfully.

  “Why do I know that name?”

  He captured her wrist before she could take any more steps. “I cannot say.”

  She scanned his face. Something about him was familiar. But she couldn’t place why. Her mind was fogged. Her body was drained.

  “Your name?”

  She bit back her smile. He had a way of turning even simple questions into commandments.

  “Cassie.”

  “Cassie?” He scanned her face intently. “This is all? Like Madonna? No last name?”

  She laughed, a bubbling sound of amusement that tugged at his chest. “Yes.”

  “No,” he countered, stroking his thumb across the sensitive flesh of her inner wrist.

  “Yes.” She pulled at her wrist, and was disappointed when he let go immediately. “I told you, I’m not looking for anything more than what we just did.”

  “And so I cannot know your name?”

  “You know my name.” Her smile was teasing. “Cassie.”

  “Cassie.”

  The way it sounded on his lips sent her pulse hammering in her body.

  “You know, I like you like this.” He ran a finger insolently over her breasts, down her naked stomach. “Just you and those ridiculous shoes.”

  “Ridiculous? I’ll have you know these are Jimmy Choos and they cost the better part of my last week’s pay.”

  He nodded, a look of assumed concentration on his face. “You like shoes.”

  “Oh, yes. Shoes, perfume, jewellery. I’m that kind of girl.”

  “So I cannot know your full name, but you are prepared to give me a dossier on your sartorial preferences.”

  “Yep.” Her grin was disarming, and Layth found himself smiling back at her, his dark eyes sparking with genuine amusement.

  “Do you do this often?”

  She felt a shield of wariness at the judgment she perceived in his question.

  “Yes.” She resisted the urge to cross her arms. “As do you, I presume.”

  His shrug was confident, almost arrogant. “At one time in my life.”

  “Good,” she murmured. “I’m glad we both know what we want then.”

  Her assessment was not entirely accurate; he couldn’t have said for certain just what she wanted. Something about her didn’t make sense. Layth had known women who were fast and easy. In his twenties, he’d made an art form of the casual hook up. He was a playboy prince – all the money of royalty with no expectation of respectability nor decorum. He’d been free to build his property empire and seduce whichever beautiful woman took his fancy. From Rome to Nice to Sydney to Manhattan, he’d had his pick of gorgeous lovers.

  But Cassie had an edge to her. A hardness that she was hiding behind casual jokes and business-like discussions regarding sexual attraction.

  He pushed aside his fascination. He didn’t, and ultimately couldn’t, care.

  She was right. This was about sex.

  Great sex.

  His smile lifted as he felt a stirring of desire despite the fact he’d just satiated his needs in her body.

  “Do you drink champagne?”

  “Do I seem like the kind of girl who would say no to bubbles?”

  “You seem like the kind of girl who wouldn’t say no to much,” he drawled, but he softened it by bringing his lips back to hers.

  Her indignation was swallowed by the kiss. She sighed against his mouth and her hands lifted to his chest. “Do you workout obsessively?” She blurted, breaking the kiss so she could look at him properly. He was a wall of muscle. And for a woman who’d dated her fair share of athletes, it was still an impressive physique.

  “No.”

  He pulled a pair of black boxer shorts on. She couldn’t fathom if she was disappointed or relieved. He was, if possible, more distractingly handsome with the scrap of black fabric, as it only served to draw attention to his flawless figure. Those toned legs, all muscle and sinew … she had to close her eyes to stop from making a groaning sound.

  She reached for her dress but he shook his head. “You stay like that.”

  “Er, no,” she murmured huskily, her eyes flashing a warning he didn’t heed.

  “But you are so beautiful. And I like to look.”

  “You like to do more than look,” she pointed out tartly, following him into the lounge area of the suite, “or we’d still be at the bar.”

  “And is that what you would have preferred?”

  She shook her head from side to side, not bothering to hide her desire. “No.”

  He turned his back to her on the pretence of lifting a bottle of vintage Dom Perignon from the fridge. It opened with a satisfying popping noise. As it bubbled dangerously close to frothing over, he half-filled two glasses.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, sipping it instantly. The bubbles danced in her mouth, sending little splashes of happiness through her system.

  “My pleasure.” His dark eyes glowed.

  There was a pale grey blanket thrown carelessly over the edge of the sofa. She wasn’t cold, but she was starting to feel ridiculous being c
ompletely naked. She wrapped it around her shoulders, her cornflour blue eyes daring him to argue with her about it.

  She settled herself onto a stool, careful to keep the blanket in place, then sipped her champagne. It was delicious.

  “So you’re some kind of CEO, right?” She asked, running her finger around the rim of her glass.

  His eyes were hooded. “ What makes you say that?”

  She traced the outline of her lips with her tongue. “I guess you could say I have a nose for these things.”

  “Do you? And do you target CEOs for your … pleasure?” He murmured, very still in a way that anyone who knew him would take as a warning.

  “God, no,” she demurred, earning a lift of his brows.

  “Who do you target, ordinarily?”

  She pressed her lips together, confused by his line of questioning. She couldn’t have said why it offended her. “Target? You make it sound as though I’m dragging unwilling men into my lair for a night of debauchery.”

  “I doubt any man would be unwilling in the face of your inducements.”

  More offence slammed into her chest, and she wasn’t sure why. After all, she didn’t look for validation from any of the men she slept with. They were simply a bit of fun on the side of her real life. Some women shopped, others played tennis. She did this.

  “Well, in any event, I think it’s fairer to say you targeted me.”

  “Indeed. After you had been undressing me with those rather spectacular eyes for the better part of ten minutes, I felt you were worth investigating.”

  Indignation formed her lips into a perfect circle. She placed her champagne flute down a mite more smartly than she’d intended. It hit the marble table with a loud clink. “I see. Well, thank you so very much for deigning to speak to me,” she snapped, the sarcasm hanging in the air like an accusation.

  “I have upset you.”

  “No,” she denied, standing, taking extra care to keep the blanket in place now.

  “Yes.” He prowled closer to her, his walk stealth-like, his manner dark and dangerous. Damn it, they were the two qualities she was most drawn to in a man.

  She swallowed with a combination of nerves and desire. He was so close she could smell him, a mix of his spiced aftershave and sex. She muffled a groan and shook her head.

  “You are worried I only invited you here because you were staring at me?”

  “Undressing you with my eyes, I think you mean,” she corrected, proud of how coldly autocratic her voice sounded.

  He nodded, conceding her point. “I saw you the moment you entered the bar. And I knew I would have you.”

  Her breath snagged. “That sounds … rather arrogant.”

  “Given the circumstances we find ourselves in, I think it sounds accurate.” He said, arching a brow and staring deep into her eyes.

  “Yep. Definitely arrogant.” She swallowed again, but it was harder now. Her throat was dry and her mouth filled with sawdust.

  “I get a sense about people. I felt we would connect. And we did. Spectacularly.”

  “Yes.” Memories of him making love to her jerked at her gut, sending sensation spiralling through her. “Where are you from? Your accent is … unfamiliar.”

  “As is yours,” he turned the question back on her.

  “Unfamiliar? I can’t believe my Australian twang is that hard to catch.”

  “Ah! Australia. When did you move to London?”

  “How do you know I did?” At his silent appraisal, she continued. “Move here, I mean. How do you know I’m not just holidaying?”

  “A guess,” he murmured. He lifted her champagne, sipped it, and then brought his lips crashing down to hers. As he had done in the bar, the drink transferred to her. But he kept his lips against hers and his whole body was warm and firm.

  “Was I right?” He moved his lips lower, to tease the sensitive flesh at her neck.

  “Yes,” she nodded, not entirely sure what she was agreeing to. He crept his fingers beneath the blanket, and gripped her hips.

  “When did you move here?”

  “When I was sixteen.”

  “So young. Your family relocated?”

  “No.” She banked down on the line of questioning. Her expression was a closed book; she wore with ease the mask of coldness. She used it whenever someone asked about her past.

  “Did you run away?”

  Apparently, he didn’t have any intention of heeding her non-verbal signs.

  “In a sense,” she was the definition of noncommittal, even shrugging her slender shoulders to show her nonchalance.

  “In what sense,” he pushed, lifting his hands to cup her breasts. He flicked his fingers across her nipples, sending waves of erotic desire through her.

  “I have an aunt. I came to stay with her.”

  He took one of her sensitive aureoles in his mouth, running his tongue around it while his fingers continued to torment the other. “You are being vague.”

  “Am I? I’ve answered your questions. You haven’t told me where you’re from, and I asked first.”

  “So you did.”

  “So?” She pushed, frustration making her snap. How could she want him again so soon? She pushed at his boxer shorts, desperate to touch him. To feel him. Her fingers connected with his arousal and she let out a noise of relief.

  He closed his eyes and clamped his teeth together. “You are trouble,” he said on an exhalation of breath.

  She nodded. “Definitely.”

  His noise was a sound of impatience. He kissed her mouth hard, then wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her against him easily. He lay her on the floor; it was cold beneath her back but she didn’t care. She knew the warmth would come.

  And it did.

  He entered her quickly; as though they hadn’t slept together in a year, not a matter of minutes. He drove into her with all the strength of his needs, crying out as she arched her back and took him deep into her core. His fingers were spies on her body, seeing it and feeling it, enjoying every single bit of her. And he brought his mouth crashing back to hers, his tongue moving fiercely while his body possessed her.

  He was her master, and in that moment, she would have done anything he said. Her face was pink and her eyes were glazed. She dug her nails into his shoulders as she began to tumble over the edge. She heard screaming but didn’t immediately realise it was her mouth ringing the noises of pleasure into the hotel.

  They clung together as he pushed them to the edge of the known universe; pleasure soaked them as they moved as one. It was a dance invented by no one and enjoyed by many, but never more so than these two bodies, brought together by fate and desire.

  Cassie could hardly breathe, and not because of his weight on her. He was heavy, but pleasurably so.

  Her lack of breath had to do with the realisation that she was doing exactly what she’d sworn she wouldn’t. After Antonio, she’d promised both herself and Melinda she’d keep things light. And there was nothing light about this man. Sure, they’d agreed to a purely physical relationship, but there was an intensity to him that was apparent in everything he did.

  She thought of the way he’d been writing, back in the bar. Even that had been purposeful. And he’d been angry.

  She shifted a little, so that she could tilt his head and see his face. “What were you doing in the bar?”

  His dark eyes latched curiously with hers. “What does anyone do in a bar?”

  She shook her head with impatience. “You were writing something. Something that was making you furious.”

  His dark eyes continued to run over her face. Finally, he nodded. “Yes.”

  “What was it?” She reached for his hand and weaved her fingers through his. She lifted it to her mouth and took his thumb into her mouth. She moved her tongue over it seductively, knowing that both he and she were imagining she was encircling another part of his anatomy. She felt him jerk inside of her, as desire stirred anew.

  It brought a smile o
f satisfaction to her lips. He moved his hips; once again showing his possession of her. Cassie smiled against his shoulder.

  “It was a note of instruction. A response to some advice I had received.”

  “That’s fascinating, but you do realise it tells me nothing.”

  He grinned, and shifted his hips again, so that she felt him anew. “You are curious for a woman who insists she wants just sex.”

  “I’m being polite.”

  “No,” he chastised lightly. “You are being inquisitive.”

  “So?” She shrugged. “Isn’t it human nature to wonder about people?”

  “Yes,” he conceded, rolling away from her. Despite the stirrings of his arousal, he had broken their connection and she felt an instant weight of disappointment.

  “So?” She turned her head to face him, but he continued to look up at the intricate chandelier above them.

  “Which question would you like answered first?”

  “Where are you from?”

  “A faraway kingdom.”

  She propped up on one elbow, so that she could stare down at him. It brought her exposed breasts close to his cheek, and she scanned behind him for the blanket she’d used earlier. It was too far to reach so she stayed where she was. It was too late for coyness now, anyway.

  “Like in a fairy tale,” she teased.

  “Yes, except I am no knight in shining armour, and you are no innocent damsel awaiting rescuing.”

  Her smile was bright, but it didn’t reach her eyes. Why would he think anything of her but what she’d shown him? A brash, sexually demanding woman in very expensive shoes?

  “Those knights and damsels get pretty boring after a while.”

  He nodded. “My thoughts exactly.” He lifted onto his elbow, mirroring her position. He ran a finger down her side, watching its progress. He traced circles around her hips, and then moved it lower, to the core of her being. He pressed it into her, watching as her eyes hooded in an instant response to the sensual invasion. “A damsel in distress would have far too much virtue to allow me to do this,” he ran his finger in a circular motion, brushing against all of her most sensitive nerve fibres.