The Treasure_ A Novel - Iris Johansen [88]
“Soon. I’m enjoying this.”
“I am not. Go away.”
“You would, if you permitted yourself. The darkness makes everything more sensual, doesn’t it? I’ve always loved the scent of you. I can hear every change of tempo of your breath. A bar of moonlight is lying across your body. I can see your breasts covered by the blanket, but your shoulders are naked and shimmering. . . .” He suddenly chuckled. “Your breathing has quickened. Why?”
He knew why. He always knew everything about her body’s responses. “I want you to leave.”
“Do you?” He was suddenly kneeling on the floor by her bed. His features were still shadowed. “And I want to put my hand on that strip of moonlight.” His hand came out of the darkness to lightly rest on the blanket covering her belly. The muscles of her abdomen clenched beneath the touch. “Look at us,” he whispered.
She couldn’t help but look. His touch was light, but the warmth seemed to burn her through the blanket. His hand gleamed pale against the brown wool. From the forearm he was in shadow, but his hand was bold and clear, strong, fingers spread wide and stiff.
She was having trouble breathing. “This is not my will.”
“Shh, it’s not unusual for a man of my profession to be given a small payment for a deposit.” He was pushing the blanket aside.
She should move.
She couldn’t move.
His cheek was against her belly, rubbing slowly back and forth. She could feel the slight male roughness against her softness.
“Here,” he whispered. “Soon, Selene.”
A child. He was talking about a babe.
His hand moved down to stroke, rub, pluck.
A shudder went through her.
His mouth was suddenly on her nipple and he was sucking, hard, fast.
His fingers plunged deep.
She gave a cry and arched upward.
“Yes.” He gave her more, in, out, fast, deep. “Call out. Let me hear you.”
Her fingernails dug into the sheet.
Faster. Harder.
“Come for me.”
Darkness. Deepness. Searing heat.
She cried out as the tension climaxed.
He stopped, his forehead slowly bent to rest on her stomach. His breath was warm on her flesh, his chest laboring.
She was panting. Her heart was beating too fast. She felt as if it would leap from her breast.
He raised his head. His hand was leaving her, pulling the blanket up to cover her body. He stood up and stepped back from the bed. “I’ll leave you now. Good night, Selene.”
She felt a ripple of shock. “But you didn’t—”
“Ah, no, and I’ll suffer for it tonight. It’s not my way to collect until the task is done. I needed to touch you, but I can wait for the rest.”
“But you—what was this all about?”
“It’s about you learning the pleasure is still there, waiting to be tapped. It’s about bringing your body alive again. It’s about preparing the way.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll need to speak to Tarik and Layla alone tomorrow. I’ll come to see you later in the day.”
Selene huddled beneath the blanket after the door closed behind him. She had to stop trembling.
It’s about bringing your body alive again.
Dear God, her body was too alive. The blood coursed through her veins, and her skin was flushed and tingling. There was a familiar aching emptiness between her thighs.
The tower.
He had pleasured her, and still it was not enough.
She wanted more.
She could have more. It was no surrender, no loss of herself. A bargain had been struck.
It could be like the tower.
______
Tarik and Layla were sitting on the bench when Kadar strode onto the terrace the next morning. They both looked at him warily.
“And where is Selene?” Tarik asked.
Kadar smiled. “I thought we could speak more freely without her. I’ll tell her of our discussion later.”
“I wouldn’t think she’d thank you for going behind her back,” Layla said dryly.
“Oh, we’re in complete agreement. I had a long talk with her last night. She knew you were going to refuse her. I didn’t want her to be further distressed.”
“None of us does,” Tarik said.
“But we can’t do what she wishes,” Layla said. “Find another way.”
“I would,