In Defiance of Duty
Page 17
So deep. So good.
Azrin whispered love words in Arabic and English as he began to move. Kiara rode him, heat in her eyes and his hands so demanding on her hips, until he threw her over the edge again and followed her there, calling her name.
And she knew that they were both exactly where they belonged.
Azrin found the bar in Sydney’s tony Hyde Park neighborhood almost empty.
He pushed in through the heavy glass doors and shook the wet Australian weather from his clothes. He glanced around at the bartender who stood idly by, polishing glasses, and several waiters in a cluster near the kitchens, all of whom respectfully averted their eyes.
He dismissed them, prowling over to the great windows that looked down on Sydney Harbor, gray and rainy this afternoon. He lowered himself into one of the low leather chairs and only then looked at the effortlessly beautiful woman who sat in the other, still gazing out at the view as if she hadn’t noticed him at all.
Though he knew better.
“Let me guess,” she said, her voice a throaty sort of murmur that teased over him like a caress, like an open flame. “You are a very boring sort of businessman.
Sales, no doubt. In town for a tedious conference of one sort or another and thought you’d pop out for a drink.”
“It’s as if you are psychic.”
He let his gaze play over her. She was exquisite. She sat with perfect, if relaxed, posture in the seat next to his. She was elegance and an impossibly pretty face packed into a black dress that nodded toward the conservative yet still managed to emphasize her sleekly athletic figure, and all of it balanced on wicked, wicked shoes. Her hair was twisted into a smooth chignon, and she had accented both her hair and her ears with the hint of pearls. She looked sleek. And edible.
Mine, he thought.
And still she didn’t look at him.
“It’s a pity you have so little to recommend you,” she said as if she was truly saddened. “I’m in from a lovely visit to the Barossa Valley. I need to find someone at least as exciting as the board meeting I just attended.”
She recrossed her legs, drawing his attention to the silken length of them, and those dangerous heels. He pictured them wrapped around his hips and smiled.
“I’m afraid I am not at all exciting,” he murmured. “I am a very poor salesman, as it happens. Far duller than a board meeting.”
“I should tell you that I’m a single woman on the prowl, in the market for no-strings-attached, mind-altering sex.” She let out a disappointed sigh. “Clearly you don’t fit the bill.”
“What if I make you an offer?” he asked, leaning closer. She turned her head to look at him then and they both smiled. Her brown eyes were merry and mischievous.
And that mouth. How he loved her mouth.
“Hello,” she said. And then, her tone turning serious, “I’m listening.”
“I’m a married man.” He tapped his fingers against the arm of his chair and watched the way her eyes tracked his movements. Hungrily. “But if you like that kind of danger, I can promise you acrobatics. A fierce attention to detail. My wife has insatiable demands.” Her smile widened. She propped her elbow on the wide, flat arm of her leather chair, then rested her chin on her hand as she regarded him. He reached over and traced the fine bones of her wrist, then the line of her forearm.
“Do you mean proper gymnastics?” she asked. “Cartwheels and backflips? Or is that more of a metaphor?”
“The choice is yours.” His voice was gallant.
“Meaning it could be proper gymnastics.” She laughed. “Not an offer you’re likely to get just anywhere, I’d think.”
“I am a king among men.”
She smiled in delight. “So you are.”
“Come home with me,” he said, ignoring the game completely, his fingers wrapping around her hand and tugging it to his mouth to press a kiss against it. “I want to be inside you more than I want my next breath.”
to be inside you more than I want my next breath.”
“I love you, too,” she said, her own breath catching as she spoke. “But they’ve cleared out this whole restaurant for us. It would be rude to—” She broke off as he stood abruptly, and laughed as he offered her his hand.
“Or not,” she said. Her mouth curved. “It really is good to be king.”
“How is your mother?” he asked when she was standing, her heels putting her right at eye level, all of Sydney laid out behind her, wet and cloudy and at her feet.
“We will always rub each other wrong, I think,” Kiara said, but then shrugged it away. “She says she may never come back from Iceland, anyway. She loves it there. And we do very well indeed with all the world between us.”
Azrin leaned in and kissed her lightly on that decadent mouth of hers, far more appropriately than he wanted to do. But cleared out restaurant or not, there were still people here. It was still not private. And they were still, and ever, the King and Queen of Khatan. She pulled away from him, smiling ruefully, as if she could read his thoughts.
“Have you thought about the job offer?” he asked.
“It turns out I could probably be a much better consultant than I ever was a vice president.” Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. “But I’m an even better queen.”
And so she was. She was not traditional, of course, but as Khatan held its first elections and started down the path toward democracy, there was no need for her to be. If she’d wanted to, she could have been as busy as she’d been before, with all the charities that vied for her patronage and all the places that invited her to speak.
They’d both grown so much this past year. His father’s death had forced him to take a cold, hard look at a lot of things. And so had Kiara. It was hard for him to think back to that dark period right after he’d taken the throne. It was hard to imagine he’d come so close to losing her.
He started toward the door, his arm around her. That would never happen again, he vowed. Never.
“I think I’m finally ready,” she whispered as they walked, her face shining as she looked at him, as she leaned in close against his shoulder. “To start trying.”
“Ready?” he repeated, but then, suddenly, he knew.
He smiled as a new kind if joy shot through him, and laced his fingers into hers. Holding her tight. He wanted to run his hands over her flat belly, to celebrate the babies they would finally make together, but he couldn’t do it here. Not while there were still eyes on them.
But there were a thousand ways to love this woman, his Kiara, and touching her was only part of it.
“I will alert the Khatanian media at once,” he teased her instead, grinning when her brown eyes gleamed.
“Don’t be silly,” she said in the same tone, her cheeks flushed with pleasure. “I’ve assured your entire extended family they’ll be the first to know. Preferably over dinner.”
Azrin laughed, and then, at last they headed home.
Together.
All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.
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First published in Great Britain 2012
by Mills & Boon, an imprint of Harlequin (UK) Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR
© Caitlin Crews 2012
ISBN: 978-1-408-97414-8
Table of Contents
Cover
Excerpt
About the Author
Title Page
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Copyright
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
Chapter Ten