Red Hot Holiday Bundle

by Alison Kent

  She had to think up with some reason why she couldn’t. No, in fact she didn’t have to make excuses, Lizzie determined. She would just refuse—

  ‘I bought you swimsuits, didn’t I?’ Kemal said, in the manner of a man who knew very well that he had. Gym clothes, swimsuits, trainers…the list went on and on. ‘Do you have a problem?’ Kemal pressed. ‘They do fit?’ he added dryly.

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie admitted. ‘Perfectly.’

  OK—truce. She couldn’t let Kemal think he could intimidate her to the point where she wouldn’t even share a swimming pool with him. What chance would Hugo stand then? And, after pounding the pavements all afternoon, she really did feel like a cooling swim.

  ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Why not? The spa sounds great.’

  What harm could a swim do? She didn’t imagine icebergs were his type.

  Kemal’s idea of a spa was having the most sumptuous health club imaginable installed at home for his own private use. And when your home was a palace, that allowed for something on rather a splendid scale.

  He was waiting for Lizzie at the foot of a wide sweep of marble steps: bare feet, black jogging pants, tight-fitting black vest. Amazing. She pretended not to notice.

  ‘We will take a Turkish bath before we enter the pool,’ he said, heading off.

  ‘We?’ Lizzie demanded coolly, staying exactly where she was. Apart from the fact that she was determined to set the rules here, she needed a moment to deal with the sight of a bronzed male body blatantly made for sin.

  ‘You will see,’ Kemal murmured, pausing to look at her, his arm resting on a heavy arched door. ‘Well, are you coming?’

  Thankful her every erogenous zone was concealed beneath a baggy tracksuit, Lizzie went past him through the arch into a vast, echoing, marble-tiled room.

  ‘The changing rooms are over there,’ he said, pointing them out to her. ‘And you will need these,’ he added, swooping down to pick up what looked like a pair of wooden clogs.

  Not exactly what she would have chosen to go with her outfit, but…

  ‘The floor gets slippery with soapsuds,’ he warned. ‘These nalin will keep you safe.’

  It would take more than a pair of wooden clogs, Lizzie mused, levelling a cool glance on Kemal’s fiercely arrogant face. ‘Soapsuds?’ she queried evenly.

  ‘Lots of them,’ he promised.

  She didn’t like the look on his face one bit. She felt like a very small mouse that had lost its way in the wolf’s den.

  ‘Oh, and by the way,’ he added, easing away from the door, ‘strip naked, will you?’

  ‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Lizzie assured him.

  ‘There are plenty of towels in the changing cubicles,’ Kemal said, as if she hadn’t spoken a word. ‘Help yourself to as many as you want.’

  He was enjoying her discomfort just a little too much, Lizzie thought as she tilted her chin at a rebellious angle and moved past him towards the changing cabin.

  Her heart was pounding nineteen to the dozen when she stepped out again. Every inch of her body was concealed under towels, apart from her head. She had redressed her hair, using the tortoiseshell clips to keep it off her shoulders, and was wearing the wooden clogs as Kemal had advised…but where was he? she wondered, looking around.

  ‘I’m in here.’

  She followed the sound of his voice through an archway into another room. Slipping off the clogs, Lizzie looked around. It was a wet room, with a huge hot tub in the centre of the tiled floor. A series of raised platforms ran around the tub like giant steps, and there was a domed ceiling above the water towards which steam was billowing in dense white clouds.

  Kemal was already in the tub—and naked, she guessed, certainly from the waist up. If a man could be called beautiful, then he was beautiful. His wet torso gleamed like polished bronze, every muscle perfectly delineated. The wide sweep of his shoulders reminded her of an etching she had seen of naked gladiators, and there was an unconscious grace to his movements as he lazily slicked soapy water across his powerful chest.

  ‘I’m quite happy to join you,’ Lizzie said briskly. ‘But as a man of honour, I take it you will respect my modesty.’

  This was novel, Kemal mused, sinking a little lower down into the suds. After a moment of wry consideration he averted his face.

  As soon as Kemal turned, Lizzie sprinted up the steps, dropped her towels, climbed in, and sank beneath the bubbles. Quickly lowering the straps of the swimsuit she was prudently wearing, she kept just her face above the foaming water. ‘OK,’ she announced. ‘You can turn around now.’

  Kemal’s dark slanting stare held just enough humour to make Lizzie feel gauche. Doubtless his more sophisticated female companions would have taken a very different line, perhaps stripping off and parading themselves in front of him. She had neither the confidence nor the inclination. And she was in a unique position—neither companion nor guest; she was merely the bird in his gilded cage.

  Hearing Kemal speak in his own language, Lizzie turned to see an older woman who must have come silently into the room. Dressed neatly in a white uniform, she stood discreetly in the shadows, obviously awaiting instruction. Before Lizzie could question Kemal, he relaxed back against the side of the tub, arms widespread, and closed his eyes. The next minute the woman was standing next to Lizzie, and gesturing with a smile that she should climb out.

  Lizzie couldn’t get out fast enough. Kemal might look harmless enough, with the warm bubbles frothing around him, but his stillness seemed deceptive somehow.

  The attendant quickly fashioned a comfortable bed with clean towels on one of the wide lower steps at the base of the hot tub. When she picked up soap and a sponge Lizzie supposed she must lie down, but as she went to position herself the woman gave a cluck of disapproval and a smile, and mimed that she should take off her swimming costume.

  Glancing back to the tub, Lizzie realised that Kemal couldn’t see, so after a moment’s hesitation she did as the woman had suggested.

  After the soaping came an abrasive mitt, and finally, when she was glowing like a beacon, the woman walked away to turn on the drench shower, leaving Lizzie gazing at the tantalising stack of fluffy white towels she had left just out of reach.

  ‘Do you intend to lie there all day covered in foam?’

  Lizzie tensed as she looked back up at the tub. ‘Are you speaking to me?’

  ‘Who else?’ Kemal said. ‘Well? What are you waiting for?’

  Not for you to get your ounce of fun out of me, that’s for sure, Lizzie thought as she got to her feet. A naked back view was regrettable, but unavoidable. She held her head high as she stalked across the soap-covered tiles towards the shower.

  ‘Nalin,’ Kemal reminded her dryly, sweeping her up into his arms moments before she hit the floor.

  ‘Let me go!’ Lizzie insisted, struggling to escape.

  ‘Not a chance,’ Kemal informed her. ‘I guess we’ll have to miss the steam bath…’

  ‘Put me down!’ Lizzie warned, painfully aware that she was completely naked and in his arms.

  ‘And the massage…’ Kemal complained, as if he still hadn’t heard her.

  ‘Please!’ Lizzie gasped throatily, kicking her legs. Kemal’s warm, hard body seemed to be making embarrassing contact with every single part of her.

  ‘Shall I drop you here?’ he said.

  ‘No!’

  She turned her face away from him, shutting out his mock-innocent expression. Worst of all, he must have registered the tremors scorching through her…and he must know as surely as she did that they had nothing whatever to do with her fall.

  ‘Say please,’ Kemal prompted, settling Lizzie more comfortably in his arms, ‘and then I might let you go.’

  Lizzie’s lips compressed as she considered her options. ‘Please,’ she said at last, grudgingly.

  At least he had the good grace to ask if she was all right, she thought mutinously, testing first one foot and then the other on the ground. ‘I’
m fine,’ she said. ‘No harm done…Thank you,’ she muttered somewhat belatedly, crossing her arms over her chest.

  She watched Kemal cock his head to one side, and knew he was trying hard not to smile. The towels were still out of reach. But that didn’t stop her making a lunge for them.

  ‘Not so fast!’ Kemal said, stopping her. ‘Towels are for after the shower, not before—didn’t you know that?’

  Lizzie shook herself free angrily, her skin burning where he had touched her, her temper rising when she saw the laughter in his eyes. Her hands balled into fists, but she dropped them back to her sides again. Wouldn’t he love that? A slippery, soapy tussle in the nude? A tussle she couldn’t hope to win!

  And then she saw that the hunt had sparked fire in his dark gaze, and there was a confident twist to his hard, sensuous mouth. There was no escape route available to her and he knew it. For some crazy reason Lizzie realised she was incredibly aroused. And he knew that too. She made one last desperate attempt to reach for a towel.

  But Kemal caught hold of both of her arms and brought her round in front of him. ‘Now what are you going to do?’ he demanded huskily.

  ‘I would hope you are a gentleman,’ Lizzie challenged, staring him straight in the eyes.

  ‘Would you really?’ Kemal murmured, as if he didn’t believe a word of it. He gave a short, virile laugh, and then there was silence.

  Lizzie’s breathing sounded loud in her ears. She was intensely conscious of Kemal’s naked body, only inches from her own, and then he reached up, freeing the tortoiseshell clips from her hair so that it tumbled around her shoulders like a shimmering golden cape.

  ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured, sifting it through his fingers.

  As Lizzie opened her mouth to protest he kissed her hard on the lips.

  The shock made her sway towards him, and before she could pull away he tightened his grip. And then she stayed because she wanted to—because she had to. The kiss was long and perfect, the sensation streaming through her intense. He could kiss away her heart, kiss away her soul—but what to do about it? How to hold back? How to distance herself from him? She had no answers, only wordless sounds that spoke of need and pleasure until finally, responding to her wishes, Kemal deepened the kiss.

  At last he broke away, leaving her breathless. ‘Shower,’ he suggested.

  ‘Good,’ Lizzie blurted half with relief, thinking it a sign that the kiss was out of his system.

  ‘Excellent,’ Kemal murmured. ‘Because now I want to wash every part of you, taste every inch of you.’

  A small cry leapt from Lizzie’s throat as her veins were infused with sensation. It was as if every nerve-ending was naked and exposed, awaiting Kemal’s attention. And then, cupping the back of her head in one hand and using the other to drag her close, he kissed her again.

  Kemal tested the stream of water and made sure that it was warm before allowing Lizzie to stand beneath it. Then he joined her, throwing his head back so that the whole of his beautiful body was exposed for her enjoyment.

  And now she did look, her gaze lingering on every perfect inch of him: the long powerful column of his neck, the hard chest tanned to the shade of nutmeg, the shading of black hair that narrowed to a vee as it tracked down below his waist. She quickly looked up again and slicked back her hair self-consciously, and as she did so she became aware of the effect her innocent action was having on Kemal: her breasts were fully exposed for his perusal, the pert nipples taut and outthrust, damp pink peaks, provoking him, tempting him—

  She jumped when he hit the switch that turned off the shower.

  ‘I’m taking you to bed.’

  ‘Just like that? No, Please may I? Or, How do you feel about it?’

  ‘I know how you feel about it,’ he assured her.

  His confidence was compelling, the look in his eyes irresistible. Sensation was already pooling in sharp insistent pulses between her legs by the time Kemal wrapped her in towels and swung her into his arms.

  ‘This is The Sultan’s palace, and you are my captive,’ he teased her provocatively.

  ‘Will you tie me down with ribbons of silk and tantalise me with feathers?’ Lizzie demanded, responding in kind to his wicked mood.

  ‘You have been indulging in far too many fantasies,’ Kemal observed as he shouldered open the door. ‘I have something far more fulfilling in mind for both of us.’

  She didn’t doubt him for a minute. But, as for fantasies, she had never indulged in them before coming to Turkey. Happily, it seemed all that was about to change.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  KEMAL took Lizzie in the opposite direction from her own rooms. He stopped outside some fabulously carved doors in a grand hallway, where everything was the same exotic mix of exuberant ornamentation and vibrant colour. But the moment they walked through the doors they might have been in another world.

  Kemal’s private kingdom was a triumph of ice-cool minimalism. The chocolate-brown leather chairs and sofas would be from Italy, Lizzie guessed, and the rest of the furniture looked as if it might have come from Scandinavia. Huge rugs in neutral shades provided pools of contrast on a stark white marble floor, and on the pure white walls just two large, colourful modern paintings were expertly displayed.

  The totally unexpected decor, and the realisation that it must reflect Kemal’s inner self, fascinated Lizzie. Like him, this apartment was powerful and controlled, with a touch of the audacious—the perfect mix in any man.

  Laying her down on the bed, Kemal stretched his length against her so that Lizzie felt at once extremely dainty by comparison. She started to tremble when he lightly ran the fingertips of one hand very slowly down from her slightly parted lips to the apex of her thighs, and then she gasped, wanting more…wanting much, much more.

  ‘Not yet,’ he whispered reluctantly, kissing her lips with frustrating restraint.

  But his mouth was a channel from which pleasure poured, and her limbs were running with molten honey. Lizzie groaned with impatience as she shamelessly angled herself towards him.

  The cool and oh, so contained Ms Lizzie Palmer was a volcano waiting to erupt, Kemal realised. That vacancy on his staff for a mistress had just been filled.

  And now he would take the greatest pleasure in spinning everything out, taking even longer than he had planned over her seduction. She was beautiful, and ripe like the figs they had both enjoyed. She needed release and he would give it to her—but her defiance must be curbed. Everything would happen at a time of his own choosing. He would tease and tantalise until she was in a realm beyond reason. He was a master of the art, and she would be a most responsive pupil.

  He watched in fascination as Lizzie cupped her breasts, to taunt him with the sight of her extended nipples. It was as if she was seeking his approval—and he did approve, Kemal allowed with a groan of contentment. Dipping his head to suckle, he felt her arch towards him, and, reaching down, he cupped her buttocks with his hand, spreading his fingers and using his thumb to caress her—just enough. It pleased him to hear her cry out—a short, sharp cry of need. But he would never accede to her will in such matters, and instead pinned her beneath him, holding her still while he pleasured her at his own pace.

  ‘You’re very greedy,’ he observed softly with satisfaction. ‘But greedy must wait.’

  He smiled again, hearing her small cry of disappointment. And, looking down, he saw that her nipples were pink and taut, stretching out to him as if begging for his attention. With a growl of triumph he rasped the rough stubble of his chin across the tender peaks, and revelled in the sound of her whimpers of desire.

  Kemal recognised that he was just as hungry as Lizzie, but he was eager to find out just how high he could push her capacity for pleasure. And that quest, he realised with surprise, was even more important to him right now than his own pleasure.

  Reaching down, he eased her thighs apart and gently parted her swollen lips with one skilled and searching finger.

  ‘Oh, Kemal, pleas
e—’

  ‘Not yet,’ he murmured, pretending regret. He held her firm as she bucked beneath him. ‘You must stay very still,’ he instructed softly, whispering against her lips.

  ‘I will—I promise…anything,’ Lizzie cried hoarsely. ‘But don’t make me wait too long.’

  ‘You will wait as long as I think is necessary,’ Kemal said quietly. ‘You must learn to pace yourself.’

  ‘Will you teach me?’ Lizzie challenged, trying to stop herself moving beneath him.

  ‘I said still,’ he reminded her. ‘Or I won’t touch you at all. In fact,’ he said, moving away, ‘I don’t think I will touch you more tonight—’

  ‘What?’ Lizzie lashed out at him furiously. ‘Where do you think you’re going? Don’t you dare!’ she warned, when he threatened to get off the bed.

  Kemal whirled around. In that moment Lizzie saw the warrior he might have been centuries before, his face so harsh and fierce…but his eyes, she noticed as they held her glance, were still warm, still full of passion, and glinting now with a very potent mix of humour and desire.

  ‘You drive me to the limits,’ he confessed huskily.

  ‘And my penalty is?’ Lizzie demanded, holding his gaze.

  ‘You will touch yourself,’ he instructed her steadily. ‘I think that would please me.’

  ‘What?’ Lizzie’s eyes widened with surprise.

  ‘You seem to think that we Turks have a monopoly on erotic practices; I don’t want to disappoint you.’

  ‘Brute!’ Lizzie exclaimed, knowing he was teasing her. ‘Monster!’

  ‘Anything but, I can assure you,’ Kemal said steadily. Seizing one of her hands, he slowly dragged it to his mouth, and, keeping his gaze locked on Lizzie’s face, took each finger into his mouth and began to suckle her fingertips in turn until they turned pink.

  Lizzie felt faint with pleasure and surprise when he brought her own hand down between her legs. It was so unexpected…forbidden, and so very, very good. Closing her eyes, she groaned as Kemal guided her. It was intensely erotic—the most erotic moment of her life.