Текст книги "Dangerous Pleasure"
Автор книги: Lora Leigh
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The calloused tips of his fingers moved to the thin strap of her gown, easing it over the curve of her shoulder as his lips continued to play, and to melt her resistance like butter. If there had been any resistance, which Paige was certain she couldn’t have even attempted to fake.
She’d wanted him for far too long, ached for him for too many years to even consider rejecting this touch.
She had never had a man’s touch burn through her as Abram’s did now. She’d never known such abandoned pleasure, or ached to the very core of her body as she did now.
“Abram.” The moaning whisper seemed torn from her as she felt the gown slide down her arms, then past the swollen, heavy flesh of her breasts. “You make my head spin.”
The silk rasped over the tender tips, the sensation surging through her with a wicked rush of ecstatic pleasure as she allowed the words to escape her lips. She knew better. She should hold them back, hold a part of herself back. There was no strength to do so, though.
Her nipples peaked and hardened, rising and falling erratically with her heavy breaths as Abram stared down at them. Paige swore she could feel the very air stroking against her, the invisible currents touching her like a ghostly caress.
“How pretty.” The dark, accented stroke of his voice against her senses had her arching to get closer to him, to feel him touching her breasts in some way, in any way, to ease the ache radiating through her flesh.
She’d fantasized about this. She had dreamed of it.
“What do you want, little hellcat?” His hand moved, his fingers moving over the curveast as her lips parted to drag in air. “What touch do you wish against such pretty flesh?”
Oh God, how was she supposed to deal with this? To handle the sensations that were tearing through her, and the pleasure that made it impossible for her to consider anything but the culmination of the hunger raging through her.
Paige stared up at him, her gaze heavy-lidded as a sense of sensual bravado overcame her.
Her hand smoothed between them, up her stomach to the mound of her breast. Cupping it, she lifted it to him in invitation as his gaze flared in overwhelming hunger. His lips parted, his tongue touching the tip of the tortured flesh.
“Son of a bitch!”
Shock. Horror.
Paige’s head jerked to the side as Abram’s lifted quickly, turning even as he jerked the gowns straps and her robe back over her shoulders to cover her naked breasts.
Khalid.
Her brother stood just inside the doorway, his black eyes almost bulging in shock, his expression, for the briefest moment, slack with complete amazement before it morphed to complete fury.
God, he would show up at the most inopportune time and catch her doing the one thing he’d forbidden her to do years ago.
Don’t mess with Abram, he’d ordered her. Don’t cause such trouble with the only brother he accepted, the only true friend he had ever known. Because it would make enemies of them if Abram took her to his bed.
And what had she done? What had she plotted to do for years? To find herself in Abram’s arms, his lips and hands caressing her. To find herself in his bed, his moving over her, inside her.
Oh hell, Khalid was so pissed.
Slowly, Abram backed away.
Her head turned back and she stared up at him as his gaze turned back to her, his black eyes, darker, more intense than Khalid’s were enigmatic, as Abram straightened her robe over her breasts then began distancing himself fully.
“Go,” he said softly, his tone suddenly remarkably gentle. “You don’t need to be here for this.”
“Paige, what the hell is going on?” Khalid’s tone was coldly furious and striking across Abram’s whispered, though gentle command.
Paige rolled her eyes, stepped back, and finished fixing her gown and robe herself as she turned back to her brother. She couldn’t let herself look at Abram, couldn’t afford to show any weakness now.
Brothers were like wild animals. Show that first hint of weakness and they could be merciless. Rather like an animal at that first scent of blood.
“Get over yourself,” she told him as though unconcerned as she looked behind him and watched as Marty fought to hold back her grin. Khalid’s fiancée was nothing if not laid back and more or less amused by all of them. “What happened Marty? Did aliens kidnap my nice brother again and leave the asshole in its place?”
The “nice brother” referred to his general good mood in the past weeks since he and Marty had become engaged. She’d rather hoped it would last a while.
“The ‘nice brother,’ as you call me, was doing exceptionally well until I walked in here,” he snapped, his arms going across his chest in the classic, arrogant pose.
Just how many times had she seen that pose in the past ten years? Possibly every time Khalid caught her so much as looking at Abram.
Paige glanced between the two men.
It was incredibly easy to tell they were related, to tell they were brothers actually. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn they were twins rather than half-brothers. But she did know better. Abram was five minutes older than Khalid, and his mother had delicate blond hair rather than the vibrant red hair of Khalid and Paige’s mother. Khalid and Abram’s father, Azir Mustafa preferred American wives. Kidnapped, terrified American wives.
Abram wasn’t her brother though. He wasn’t even her half-brother. But Khalid refused to see the distinction.
“Neither of you have answered me.” Khalid stared between them, his nostrils flaring in anger.
“I would have thought it was pretty self-evident,” Paige replied archly. “You’re not exactly a virgin, Khalid, so unless that question was simply an exercise in arrogance, then you’re well aware of exactly what was going on.”
“It was a mistake,” Abram said then, the shock of the statement ripping through her consciousness.
Paige swung around to stare at him in disbelief.
“What did you say?”
“It was a mistake,” he repeated as he turned back to Khalid. “It will not happen again.”
She could only stare at him. Disbelief warred with a sense of betrayal as he turned back to her, his expression cool and composed, no hint of the hunger, or need, he’d shn only moments before.
“A mistake?” she whispered, feeling her throat tighten as she felt both Marty and Khalid watching.
How shameful. To have them witness such a rejection. How impossibly stupid of her not to have realized exactly what was coming though. He hadn’t stayed away from her, ensured they were never alone together over the past years for no reason.
“A regrettable one,” he answered. “I apologize to you as well, Paige…”
“Save it.” Flipping her hand out to him dismissively she turned on her heel and headed for the door.
Once reaching the exit she turned back, her gaze meeting Khalid’s as anger burned bright and hot inside her. “If I don’t see you in the morning, then you better tell your hired goons to watch their damned backs because I won’t stay here any longer. And you damned well better have an alternative method of protection because I’m not a child to be locked away. Nor am I too damned stupid to understand what the hell is going on when the situation is eventually explained to me.”
She didn’t give him time to speak. She didn’t want to hear his damned explanations at the moment and she sure as hell didn’t want to see the pity in his and Marty’s eyes. She wanted to get the hell away from all of them.
She was a mistake. A regrettable one.
Her teeth clenched furiously as humiliation washed through her.
He could excuse himself until hell froze over but it wouldn’t change the fact that he wanted her. He had wanted her with almost the same destructive hunger that burned inside her whenever he was around.
He didn’t want to admit it? He wanted to ignore it?
That was just damned fine, because it wasn’t over. She’d seen his gaze. She’d seen what he’d wanted to hide behind that deceptively calm, unemotional mask.
She’d seen the hunger burning so hot, so deep that it possibly went even deeper than her own did. She’d felt it. She’d tasted it in his kiss. He wanted to devour her.
She knew herself that denying it simply didn’t work. When he was done with the denials, when he was finished pretending he didn’t want her to keep Khalid’s little protective instincts calmed, then he’d better be damned careful.
She just might show him exactly how rejection felt.
The door closed quietly behind her, Abram almost flinched. The near silence of the action spoke volumes. Had she slammed the door, it wouldn’t have been nearly as effective.
It had been the pain he’d seen in her eyes though, that sense of betrayal that had driven home to him exactly how deeply he had hurt her.
She didn’t understand.
Touching her had been the worst mistake he could have made, because it showed her to be a weakness he could ill afford.
And responding to him eight years before, when his lips had buried between her thighs, had been the worst mistake she could have made.
Even now, Abram couldn’t get the taste of her out of his mind. He couldn’t get her pure, uninhibited response to him out of his system.
Her eyes had been filled with such hunger. The long swath of pretty fire-reddened hair cascading around her. Her pale flesh flushed with her need, and those perfect breasts. Those sweet, firm mounds had risen to him, the pale innocently pinkened nipples tight and hard, and responsive to his touch.
Taking her would be like immersing himself in fire. He could see it, feel it.
Iron hard and throbbing in fury at his refusal to take her, his cock had swelled to painful readiness, his balls drawn tight and painful. He couldn’t remember ever having ached with such desperation for a woman’s touch, or needing to touch one as he needed to touch Paige.
“Have you fucking lost your mind, Abram?” Khalid rasped behind him, his voice hoarse with fury.
“Evidently.” Abram turned to him, careful to keep his expression composed, without emotion. “I won’t be berated like a child, Khalid. You’ve known for years the desire that burns between us. You should have only been surprised it took this long to risk my control.”
He inhaled slowly, evenly. Paige hadn’t just risked his control, she had fucking destroyed it.
Yet, he couldn’t blame his brother for his anger either. Paige was Khalid’s little sister; a treasured child that none in her family could see had been a woman for a good many years now.
“This is ridiculous,” Khalid snapped. “You have enough women, Abram. Stay the hell away from Paige.”
Abram glanced at Marty and allowed a somber smile to touch his lips. He well remembered the years Khalid had been tortured and tempted by this woman. The nights his brother had spent simply talking about the delicate little FBI agent trailing him.
“Marty and I are an entirely different matterght="0em"D; Khalid growled as he followed his brother’s look. “Marty isn’t related to me by blood.”
To that Abram simply had to laugh. “And what blood do I share with Paige, Khalid?” he questioned him. “She is the daughter of your mother, while I am the son of your father. Where do you believe we share blood?”
Khalid could be amazingly stubborn, and attempted to arrange reality to suit him rather than arranging himself to suit reality. It was a fault of his, and one Abram had learned over the years to ignore. Because no matter how Khalid tried, he had yet to force the winds of fate to turn to his hand.
“Both of you need to stop arguing over this. Your main audience has left, so there’s no longer anyone to impress or posture to.” Marty shot them both a disgusted look. She was definitely a woman that believed in speaking her mind.
And she was right. In ways, they had been playing to a perfect audience for years. But as Abram realized now, Paige rarely stayed to listen to the arguments or paid any attention to the undercurrents of tension that existed between himself and Khalid whenever she was around.
Paige had grown tired of the game, though he and Khalid still played it. It gave Abram something to focus on rather than his desire for Paige during those odd times when he could no longer avoid her.
Abram finally sighed wearily. “I didn’t come here to lose my control with Paige, or to argue with you,” he told his brother. “I’m returning in a few hours for Saudi.”
The shock was palpable. Marty’s gaze widened and Khalid’s expression suddenly turned icy. He understood the quick anger, the disbelief. They had planned his move from Saudi Arabia for years. To have Abram back out now, at the last moment so to speak, was little more than an insult.
“You only just arrived,” Khalid finally stated. “You’re not giving Immigration enough time to examine your mother’s birth records as well as your own. Give it time.”
Abram gave his head a quick shake. “There is something I must do first, Khalid.”
He had known his brother would never understand this move he was being forced to make.
“And what the fuck could be more important than your life?” Khalid suddenly snarled, the fury cracking past the ice. “Azir Mustafa will never let you live now. Goddammit, Abram, we just killed two of his sons. The black-hearted little bastards he risked everything to protect over the years.”
“Abram, my father is certain that your citizenship will be accepted within days,” Marty stated from her fiancé’s side. “There’s no question of it. But if you return, there’s nothing he can do.”
He shook his head quickly, tightly. “I have to go back.”
“Why, damned you?!” Khalid yelled back at him furiously as rage lit his black gaze once again.
“Because Paige’s picture was found in the possession of a dead terrorist known to be a part of the cell Ayid and Aman commanded, just hours ago as he attempted to board a plane in Jordan. Your suspicions were right. She’s in danger. And I’m going back to stop it, Khalid, one way or another. I’ve already lost two wives to those bastards. I won’t lose my soul to their ghosts.”
Paige. His soul. He’d lost his youth and his heart when his first wife, Lessa had been murdered. His second wife had been forced on him, and losing her and their child had taken the last bit of hope inside him. Their deaths had nearly finished him off. The thought of that innocent life, not yet born, taken so cruelly, had nearly cost him his sanity.
That child had been his daughter. The daughter he had planned to secretly smuggle out of Saudi Arabia after her birth and send to his brother’s parents. Pavlos and Marilyn Galbraithe would have raised and protected his child as they had their own precious daughter.
But Paige, God help him, there was no way he would survive her death. It would destroy him. For some reason she had begun to represent something wild and innocent inside him eight years ago. When the future had appeared to be nothing but bleak, furious pain, it was always the image of her that brought him comfort. Her laughter, the sweet warmth that burned in her emerald eyes.
And from the looks of Khalid’s expression, the complete disbelief and horror burning in his gaze assured Abram that it would destroy him as well. They had both schemed, plotted, and run interference with Azir Mustafa since the day the red-haired little beauty had been born. The birth of the child to his escaped forced bride had sent Azir into a rage that had torn through the Mustafa stronghold like a demon.
That day, two servants had died, and a third had fled into the desert in fear. The insanity that had begun infecting Azir had only grown since that day, as though it were a trigger of some sort that he had been unable to fight.
“I was going to send her home in the morning,” Khalid finally stated, his voice a low, rough rasp. “God help me, Abram. I was going to allow her to leave when Abdul’s cousin was unable to learn anything else.”
Abdul, Khalid’s manservant, had several cousins that worked within the castle and managed to send along information whenever they heard it. The threats against Paige, in retaliation for Khalid’s killing of Ayid and Aman Mustafa, had begun the moment Azir learned of their deaths.
He knew Khalid’s weakness, just as he knew those of his other sons. Somehow, Azir had learned years before that Abram had formed a soft spot for Khalid’s little sister. A place inside his heart thathe’d believed was hidden from even the most astute gaze.
“You can’t allow her to go.” He’d kidnap her and have her locked up somewhere safe himself if Khalid dared to allow her to leave. “I’ve fought to stay away from her, Khalid, as you ordered. But if you allow her to return to her home, then I promise you, all bets will be off.”
He didn’t wait to argue. He turned and walked away. His control was too shaky, he was too frightened for her, too certain that if she was unprotected for even a second, then his father, Azir el Hamid Mustafa would exact his vengeance in the worst way.
Abram now had no choice but to return. No one yet knew he’d left Saudi to defect from his homeland and to refuse the legacy so tainted by blood, death, and nightmares. Azir Mustafa had become a scourge that even the Saudi government wanted to be rid of. Unfortunately, until Azir revealed the blood on his hands, there was nothing they could do to step in and deflect the misery he created.
Abram had given up on saving his father light years before. The day he found his wife in a desert shack, bloody, tortured, her face frozen into an expression of such abject pain and horror that it had taken him to his knees. He had known the rapists, the inhuman scourge that had taken her life were the half-brothers he had taught to ride horseback when they were boys. The same that had been such sweet, laughter-filled children before Azir had taken them to his wing of the castle to raise them himself.
From that day, the change had been overwhelming. As though Azir had known what to do to release the soulless cruelty that existed within them.
Entering the garage Abram strode for the limo as Tariq, his cousin and coconspirator, stepped from the shadows to open the door for him.
“It’s time to go now, Tariq,” he stated as he stepped into the back of the limo. “He’ll make certain she’s protected.”
“Azir has called the Saudi ambassador several times and he’s demanding they search Khalid’s home for you immediately.” Disgust filled the man’s voice. “I contacted him after the ambassador contacted me, just after you entered the house. I’ve assured him you’re here to investigate the reasons for your brothers’ deaths and that you are returning soon. He’s certain you’re here to help Khalid escape justice instead.”
Tariq didn’t give Abram a chance to comment. He slammed the door shut with latent violence then stalked around the limo to the driver’s side door.
Abram watched as he slid behind the wheel, his gaze meeting Tariq’s dark tobacco brown eyes in the mirror.
“And did he buy it?” Abram had no doubt Azir had. In his mind, no matter what he did, or who he killed, Abram wouldn’t have the strength to walk away from the deserted, blood-drencertain snd of his birth.
Unfortunately for Azir Mustafa, his son shared few of his beliefs and none of his love for the land that had destroyed so many he loved. Abram had been all too aware that he was the last hope those he loved had of escaping Azir’s cruelty. But only if Abram always remembered to never show his weakness, to never reveal he cared for anyone or anything outside the Mustafa fortress. Showing that affection was guaranteed to ensure, if not their deaths, then the ever-present risk of it.
“Shall we say he was a bit more than irate?” Tariq said with chilling calm.
Irate? Azir Mustafa was deranged. The fact that he had allowed his youngest sons’ terrorist partners to take up residence in the Mustafa fortress proved it.
Jafar Mustafa, son of Azir’s youngest brother, and cousin to both Abram and Tariq, was surprisingly one of the lieutenants within the terrorist cell Ayid and Aman had commanded.
Abram’s disappointment to learn Jafar was as corrupt as Ayid and Aman had been, went deeper than he’d expected. Once, he’d had high hopes for Jafar. Abram had fought for him to attend college in America, to work with the oil companies rather than joining the insanity Azir was breeding.
Azir Mustafa hadn’t escaped it. As a matter of fact, he had helped exacerbate the insanity within his sons, and now, he couldn’t accept that they were dead. He couldn’t accept that Abram, his eldest son and heir could have defected as Jafar had informed him, or that Khalid, the son he’d given Ayid and Aman permission to murder, had actually survived.
His sanity seemed to be coming more into question by the day, but the one thing the old bastard hadn’t forgotten was that in less then a month, Abram would turn thirty-six. Then the Saudi king would send his emissary to the Mustafa lands and take Abram’s vow to guide the people and the land to prosperity.
Azir had, with his determination to protect his youngest sons, managed to force the royal house to cut off all funds and aid to the boundary lands until his legal heir was thirty-six. Those funds had been funneled into the coffers of the very terrorists they were fighting against.
The king’s punishment had come with one ray of hope for Azir. If Abram would vow to protect and preserve the people in accordance with the law as well as pledge his loyalty to the throne on his thirty-sixth birthday, then money would flow into the Mustafa lands once more.
In all his crazed determination Azir thought he could then see the dreams of his dead sons completed once that was accomplished.
It was a vow Abram couldn’t make. But, until he learned why Paige was a target, and how pervasive the terrorists now were in the city he had once called home, he had no choice but to return.
The fact that his cousin Jafar was ported to have moved into the fortress in the past days to console Azir, greatly concerned Abram.
Jafar had, until now, managed to fool Abram. He’d gone to college in America, vacationed with the rich and notorious in their playgrounds, and had once, years before, even spoken to Abram about defection himself. That same man had returned to Saudi Arabia three years before, disappeared from the public, and was rumored to have joined one of the newly formed terrorist organizations protesting Western modernization in the Middle East.
Jafar’s belief that the ills of the Middle East stemmed from America was something that Abram hadn’t expected.
“I called several contacts and they’ve reported Jafar has brought several more of his men into the castle,” Abram began. “The terrorist who was supposedly killed in Jordan was seen at the fortress two nights ago. He slipped across the border, met with Jafar, and collected a file from Azir. It’s reported to name the target he’s chosen to exact his punishment for his sons’ deaths on.”
He had to give it to Jafar. So far, he was a damned sight smarter than Ayid and Aman had been. He did nothing over e-mail, and rarely used the same courier twice when sending out reports or orders to soldiers. There was no way to gather the evidence needed to arrest him, and no way to figure out whatever plans were in the works.
And that was why Abram was returning. To protect Paige. To protect the last bit of innocence left in his life, the woman he couldn’t get out of his fantasies.
“Contact Anwar,” Abram ordered him. “Inform him of our arrival time at the landing area and tell him to be prepared to give me a thorough oral report.”
Nothing was put on paper. Like Jafar, Abram knew the danger of ever leaving evidence.
Returning was killing him, but he knew if he didn’t, Azir would strike against Paige, ensuring Abram suffered for it. And if it wasn’t Azir, then it would be the terrorists he had given his allegiance to. Before he left, Abram knew he would have to commit to memory the face of every threat that could return to haunt him, Paige, or Khalid.
The prediction Khalid had made when he had been no more than eighteen seemed to be coming true.
Khalid had stated Azir would force his eldest son, his heir, to kill him to escape the Mustafa lands. Khalid had stared into the hot desert sun as he and Abram had been returning to the forest from a hunt and spoken the damning words.
Abram was finally realizing just how right his brother had been. And God help him, if Paige was harmed he’d also lose what was left of his own sanity.
He hadn’t touched her until tonight, but in his fantasies, in his dreams, he touched her nightly. He touched her, and he watched as his third touched her. He psessed her, and he watched as his third possessed her.
He heard her screams of pleasure, watched her emerald eyes darken in ecstasy, and heard her beg him for release. And he woke with his dick so painfully hard, the need to possess her so strong, that no amount of masturbation could ease the hunger.
“Abram, are you sure about this?” Tariq asked as he turned the limo from Khalid’s drive and headed for the private airport. “It’s not too late to change your mind. Go back, convince Khalid to allow us to protect Paige ourselves. If Azir and Jafar refuse to give us peace, then we’ll kill them ourselves.”
As a plan, it was simple, perfect, and it would complete the dark stain spreading across his soul.
“And we’ll always know we were the ones that killed him,” Abram reminded him. “His murder would unleash secrets both of us would prefer were never known, Tariq. We return, learn of their plans against the throne and Paige, take them to the emissary before he arrives in Mustafa lands, and allow the government to take care of him from there.
“The lands will be repossessed by the government. Azir will either be beheaded for treason or placed in a facility for the insane until his death. Either way, our secrets remain secret, and we’ll have a much better chance of safety when we return.”
“That or certain death,” Tariq stated tightly. “Mustafa lands are drenched in as much blood as their hands. They’re saturated in it. The name is synonymous with nothing but death, greed, and such cruelty against our women that neither of us have known anything but shame since the day our mothers committed suicide. I don’t know how we’ve refrained from killing that old bastard before now.”
“Because we’ve always known that we would have only one chance at happiness, Tariq. I won’t allow him to win by taking that from me.” Abram stared out the limo’s darkened windows to the sliver of light beginning to filter through as dawn edged in.
This was how he felt. Hope was there, edging into the shadows when he’d learned he would have to return to ensure Paige’s safety. She was his. Since the death of his first wife so long ago, Abram had known very little hope. He couldn’t turn away from it, he couldn’t allow Azir to risk it.
“There are very few of our men left,” Tariq reminded him. “Only those who hadn’t yet been able to slip over the borders. I managed to contact four, and they’ll see if they can find the others.”
“We’ll have to make do.” Abram glanced at the mirror and met Tariq’s gaze again. “We have no other choice, Tariq. We will have to make do, and we will have to succeed.”
Because defeat meant not just his death, but Khalid’s, Marty’s, and Paige’swould kill Azir himself before he would allow that to happen.
