Guilty Pleasure

17

Anger Thornton’s guest list made up the who’s who of politics and power in D.C. and Alexandria. He didn’t stint on the wine, champagne, and buffet. It was the best of everything, and everything was perfect.

The band was subtle and excellent, the music wafting through the air with a gentle presence. The place was filled with the clink of glasses, the murmur of conversation, as well as an air of privilege and refined arrogance-rather like Anger himself.

At six-four, broadly muscular, with piercing blue eyes, and thick black hair, Anger was a man who most others knew to watch out for. He was rough-hewn; no one could call him handsome. He was more striking, and completely domineering, than “handsome” could ever describe.

The Thornton family had been one of the social elite in the area since the inception of the colonies. They had thrived, risen, cemented their hold and held on to it with steel-reinforced claws. Anger continued the tradition, as well as the tradition of making money in an import-export business that had been in operation nearly since the family had stepped foot in the colonies.

The three-story mansion Anger resided in boasted two large connecting ballrooms. That night, guests milled in both rooms, as well as in the large outer rooms and well-lit gardens. It was a ball that most of the female guests planned for a year in advance. The right dress, the right shoes, and, of course, the perfect escort if they weren’t married or that option were available.

For Thornton, it was the business event of the year. He’d managed to acquire many a government contract over the years because of the excellence of this one party.

Entering the main ballroom, Marty had to hold back a smile of mocking amusement as heads turned, the arrival was noted, and varied looks touched many of the faces. Marty wasn’t a regular to the parties that kept the social matrons buzzing through the years. Tonight, dressed in a gown that Khalid had managed to procure at the last moment, Marty knew that she was easily competing with even the most expensively dressed women there. Somehow he’d managed to acquire an original by one of the most exclusive dressmakers in the world.

Never underestimate a determined man, she thought. The royal blue silk-and-taffeta concoction bared the upper curves of her breasts, lifted and cupped the rounded globes before tightening beneath them and shaping her hips. From there it fell to the floor in a glorious array of material and stiffened petticoats. Sapphires glittered at her ears and throat, while her long dark blond hair had been upswept into a loose, graceful style that complimented her neck and shoulders.

Beside her, Khalid was dressed in a black silk evening suit with a tie that coordinated perfectly with her dress. Shayne was dressed similarly, though his tie was a slate gray rather than a royal blue.

They flanked her, one on each side, and Marty knew the tongues would wag that night and come morning.

“Marty Mathews, you’ve finally decided to grace one of my parties.” Anger stepped from a nearby group of aging men, his fit, dominant features at odds with the wrinkles and gray hair that surrounded him. “Khalid, Shayne, good to see the two of you again.”

Marty almost arched her brows at the familiarity Anger extended toward Shayne. Another member of the club, she assumed. She glanced at Shayne and almost snorted at the amused look he threw her way.

“Anger, an impressive crowd,” Khalid stated as they shook hands.

“As always.” Anger chuckled.

He sounded amused, but with Anger, one could never be certain. His blue-eyed gaze was cool, his expression placid, barely registering emotion.

“I hear congratulations are in order as well,” Khalid said. “A very lucrative contract with the State Department?”

A hint of a smile touched the corners of Anger’s lips. “Someone has to transport their dirty laundry, may as well be me.”

Khalid inclined his head in acknowledgment as Marty caught sight of her parents across the room. Joe and Virginia Mathews stood with a small group of friends and acquaintances. One of whom could be a contact to the Mustafa brothers.

She had no doubt that someone there was in contact with Ayid and Aman. They wouldn’t move with such confidence, such ease, unless they had help within their own government as well as in the States.

Her parents were there as well as her godfather, though. They would be covered. She just prayed she was right. The suspicion that Ayid and Aman would have friends in this crowd had arisen only after she had read the file on the Saudi operation. Someone had sent the brothers that message, and that person could have only been among a very small group of government individuals.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Marty smiled to the group. “I see my parents.”

“Of course.” Anger’s gaze flickered with curiosity for the briefest moment. “I spoke to your father and godfather earlier. They seem rather pleased with your association with Khalid. I wish you both the best.”

Marty nearly choked at the good wishes. Her fathers were obviously sick tonight. They were both furious at Khalid as well as at Shayne, for her resignation as well as her refusal to stay at her parent’s home while Khalid’s brothers were still on the loose.

“Thank you, AT,” she murmured. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“And I as well,” Khalid stated behind her. “I believe I’ll accompany my lovely companion.”

Anger chuckled and Khalid’s hand settled once again at the small of her back as they moved across the room.

“Your fathers are good,” he murmured, as he bent his head to her. “No one will have any illusions that you are now sharing my bed.”

She flicked a glance up at him. He was so smooth, so confident. She felt like stomping his toes just to see his reaction when that amused arrogance showed itself.

She might have if she hadn’t caught a glimpse of Vince Deerfield moving slowly from the group her parents were a part of, as he cast her a look that indicated he wanted to meet with her. His eyes were narrowed on her and Khalid, tracking their movement across the ballroom as he drew farther away from them, heading from the ballroom to a hallway at the other side that she knew led to guest bathrooms as well as a small library and a sitting room.

What the hell did he want?

She made the decision to follow him, hoping that if she let him get whatever he had on his chest off it once again, she wouldn’t have to worry about a public display of idiocy.

He wasn’t above it.

“Excuse me, I think I need to make a trip to the ladies’ room.” She excused herself to Khalid as she looked around and saw Shayne moving toward the hall from another angle, his gaze flicking toward her.

“Be careful,” Khalid warned her softly, as his touch retreated from her back.

“Always.” Throwing him a pointed smile, she moved in the direction of the hall as Khalid stepped over to the group her parents were with.

Once in the hallway, she strode as quickly as four-inch heels allowed along the corridor, wondering where Deerfield had gone off to and if Shayne had been following him as well.

As she rounded a corner she glimpsed a door farther up the hall that had been left open. As she moved closer to it, she hid her surprise as her former boss stepped into the doorway and motioned her in.

The small study was designed simply. There was a large desk and bookshelves and, at the side of the room, a luxurious couch and matching chairs.

Closing the door behind her as she turned to face him, Vince Deerfield glared at her.

“Everyone is wondering how long he’s going to keep you in his bed,” he snapped. “Have you lost your mind, Agent Mathews? I can’t believe you’d flaunt this affair so publicly. Hell, I couldn’t believe you were actually involved in it until I heard the gossip tonight.”

“Others can wonder whatever the hell they want to,” she told him briskly. “Now, what did you want? I need to find a ladies’ room and I had assumed we no longer had anything to talk about.”

He shot her a malevolent look and strode across the room to the small bar in the far corner.

“I always assumed you had more class than to allow yourself to get mixed up with that bastard, no matter the rumors that circulated concerning his interest in you. He has his own harem, for God’s sake.”

He has six girls his father had sent to him as children who he adopted and now raised as sisters, Marty thought. Unfortunately Deerfield had never believed it, no matter the proof he had been given to the contrary.

“I’m hoping to enjoy the party,” she finally said, shrugging. “And he’ll miss me soon if I don’t hurry. What do you want?”

Deerfield shot back his drink with a hard grimace before slapping the glass back on the dark gleaming wood.

“Your godfather seems particularly proud of this relationship that everyone assumes has developed between you and Mustafa,” he said. “I had more respect for Zach Jennings than this. I never imagined he would allow you to make such a decision.”

Marty arched her brows slowly. “Why wouldn’t they be proud? Neither my father nor my godfather runs my life for me, Vince.” The use of his first name was a deliberate insult and a reminder that he no longer had any power over her.

“Does your father know the bastard shares his women?” he asked snidely. “Did you know?”

She stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

“What are you accusing me of, Vince?” she asked him carefully.

Pushing his fingers through his short brown hair in agitation, he narrowed his eyes and stared at her angrily.

“Don’t try to deny he’s shared his women,” he ordered her.

There was no denying that one.

“That simply means he has a past.” She shrugged. As well as a future, but there was no sense in lingering any longer here than she had to.

He grunted at that. “I would hope you would be smarter.” He didn’t sound as though he believed she was, though. “I’d be careful, though, if he brings that brother of his for a visit. The last woman they shared they murdered.”

She didn’t try to hide her surprise, or her disbelief. “And that’s not in our files, why?”

Deerfield grimaced. “Because it was taken out by your godfather.” He sneered. “ ‘No proof, supposition only,’ was his damned argument. We couldn’t find proof.”

Now wasn’t that a familiar scenario.

“Perhaps because no proof existed,” she suggested, as she gripped tightly in anger the small purse she held in her hands.

“But the proof was there, proof I wasn’t allowed to use because of international implications.” Deerfield sneered. “And I suspect because your godfather thought more of his friendship with Mustafa than he did of his country.”

“I’d be careful, Vince. My godfather wouldn’t cover up murder. Nor would he pull information he believed was relevant,” she stated.

His lips twisted furiously as he turned and poured himself another drink before turning back to her. “He wouldn’t accept the proof,” he told her, his voice rough. “Eyewitness accounts. Witnesses who saw the girl’s body, saw the sexual abuse inflicted on it. She’d been raped, Agent Mathews, horribly. An autopsy confirmed she had been raped to death by two men at the same time. And Khalid’s and Abram’s depravities together were well-known. She was Abram’s wife, and evidently he simply grew tired of her.”

Shock filled her. “This isn’t information that I uncovered, and I’ve researched every facet of Khalid’s life.”

“Then you didn’t research enough,” he snapped. “Abram is as depraved as Khalid. He disgusts even his own people. He’ll never succeed his father as ruler, because the religious hardliners will never accept an unmarried king who allows others to fuck his whores as he watches. His second wife died before she could even give birth to his child, and he has no intention of acquiring another wife. He gets tired of them and he kills them. Men like him and Khalid are a disease, Marty. One that requires a cure.”

Hatred gleamed in his eyes as the fury seemed to build within him.

“That’s not your call, Deerfield,” she argued. “And a man’s sexual tastes don’t define him, nor do they make him a murderer.”

“They do when he kills the stupid bitches willing to fuck him and his brother at the same time. Silly little whores who fool themselves into believing those men love them, only to learn they’re no more than a toy. Then you’re damned right, it defines him.”

“You’re losing your objectivity,” she said, backing slowly to the door. “Nothing you’ve said here warrants the Bureau’s harassment of him. If you’re not very careful, he’s going to have a lawsuit against the entire Bureau.”

Deerfield smirked at her warning.

“Worry about yourself, I’ll worry about the Bureau. That’s my job, and I’m damned good at it.”

He’s not stable, she thought. He is slipping over an edge that could end up causing irreparable damage between the United States and a potential ally.

“My job is nearly over,” she warned him. “Khalid is no traitor, and he’s no murderer-”

Deerfield broke her argument off with a sharp, derisive laugh.

“You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you? Wouldn’t your father be proud to know how far you’ll end up sinking for that bastard? Would you betray your country for him, Agent Mathews? Would you let him watch as another man fucks you?”

“You’ve lost your mind,” she breathed out roughly.

“Ask him about her,” he snarled, his expression twisting into lines of fury. “Her name was Lessa. She was Abram’s wife. A tiny little thing who they broke.” His gaze flicked over her in scorn. “I hope you never experience the horror she must have faced as they fucked her to death.”

“I don’t have to ask him about anything. Khalid isn’t a monster, and he’d never hurt one of his lovers, or anyone else’s. And I will remind you, you’re the one who put me on that assignment to watch him. It was your responsibility to tell me everything, no matter the fact that someone else believed the information irrelevant.”

“I didn’t tell you to fuck him!”

“Speak to me like that again and you’ll regret it.” Marty’s fingers clenched her purse even tighter as anger coursed through her. “I’ve taken your abusive tirades long enough, Deerfield.”

“For God’s sake, do you think I’d bother to berate you if I didn’t think you’d make a damned fine agent one of these days?” Surprise seemed to reflect in his expression now as he held his hands out in supplication. “You’re risking your life and your career with this man.”

“And I will remind you that it’s no longer your concern.” She could feel her heart racing, adrenaline surging through her as she recognized the fact that her boss’s sanity just might be slipping.

“I thought you were smarter than this.” He shook his head slowly. “Damn. I thought you were a better agent than this.”

Marty gripped the doorknob behind her and stared at him in fury. “I think you should sit down and think about what you’re doing, Deerfield,” she told him coldly. “You’re the one risking your life. You’re the one whose career is already shot to hell. Don’t make it worse.”

He smiled slowly, confidently. “I’ll win in the end.”

“Don’t bet on it.” As she jerked the door open she threw him a hard, enraged look before turning and stepping back into the hall.

She was trembling with anger as she slammed the door closed and came face-to-face with Shayne.

His blue eyes were as cold as ice, his body tense with anger as he stared at her, then at the door.

“You heard?” she asked.

His jaw clenched. “It was hard not to. And you’re damned lucky Khalid didn’t. He would have killed the bastard for talking to you like that.”

As she moved away from the room, Marty glanced back at the door, wondering what Deerfield was doing inside.

Marty shook her head at the instability she had glimpsed in her former boss before drawing in a hard breath and asking, “Who is Lessa Hadad, Shayne?”

Silence met her question for long moments. “She was Abram’s wife,” he finally said. “If you have any other questions concerning her, then you should ask Khalid.”

“Khalid hasn’t mentioned her yet,” she pointed out stiffly. “What did she mean to him?”

He stopped her before they stepped back into the ballroom.

“Ask Khalid about this, Marty. Let him explain Lessa to you. But be very careful. Remember, Khalid is the way he is for a reason. Sometimes, once the darkness takes hold of you, you don’t want to ever return to the memories that caused it.”

As Marty walked away from him, that statement stayed with her. There was definitely a darkness raging inside Khalid, one he battled often when it came to standing back rather than interfering in the career she had chosen for herself.

That would be hard for him, she admitted. A man like Khalid didn’t just stand aside while his woman endangered herself. Yet, he had done exactly that more than once.

He was allowing her to be who she needed to be. No matter his disagreement with it, he was standing back. She could see the torment in his face when he did so, just as she had glimpsed his fear for her more than once.

As she moved across the ballroom, she caught sight of several familiar faces. Men she knew were members of the club had gathered around AT at the other side of the room. They were talking quietly among themselves, several of them nodding seriously.

AT was always plotting and planning.

Ian Sinclair was part of that group. He watched AT with narrow-eyed intent before he nodded carefully and glanced out over the room and saw her.

Amusement marked his expression. Evidently there were no hard feelings about the fact that she had managed to slip into his club.

She returned to where Khalid stood with her fathers and mother.

There was a sense of readiness that filled the three men. As Shayne joined them seconds later, that readiness intensified.

“Everything’s in place.” Her godfather leaned close to her. “We’ve picked up two transmissions from here since you and Khalid arrived. They spoke with Ayid, who promised to be on a plane to D.C. ASAP, since the man he sent here couldn’t seem to do the job right. We have assets moving in there to let us know when he moved.”

Staring out over the ballroom, Marty hoped the operation worked out quickly. She had a feeling that if it didn’t, she and Khalid could be facing more danger than she had imagined. “Then he isn’t here in the States yet?” she asked as she turned to Khalid.

He pulled her to his side, his fingers clasping her hips possessively. “Not yet.”

Marty nodded slowly. It wouldn’t be long, she told herself. Ayid Mustafa would take whatever chance he had to destroy Khalid.

As she stood next to Khalid, she noticed something. The way he held her, close to his side. The way his body turned into hers. She had never seen him hold another woman in quite that fashion. Had never heard of him keeping one at his side.

He loved her.

She stared at him, admitting silently that she had loved him most of her life. She had loved him with a certainty, a confidence that the day would come when she would have at least a chance to steal his heart.

Had she managed that?

There were times she thought it possible. There were times she feared she still might have a ways to go.

Feeling his hand settle possessively at the small of her back once again, she turned to stare up at him with all the fears, all the needs that were becoming harder and harder to hold inside her.

“Dance with me.” Taking her hand he stepped back, watching her, waiting on her to accept. “Shayne’s meeting with a contact tonight, but we’ll be leaving soon, ourselves.”

He was dominant, but he wasn’t overbearing. He was arrogant, but his arrogance was always tinged with logic, with reason.

“Always.” Her hand tightened on his as she let him draw her out onto the dance floor.

As he took her in his arms, Marty felt the familiar heat he ignited inside her rising once again. He was the spark inside her soul.

Laying her head against his shoulder, Marty closed her eyes and let herself simply enjoy his touch, the slow glide of his body, the warmth of his arms.

She didn’t understand the need rising inside her to simply exist here, to hold on to this moment as long as possible, to hold the memories inside her.

“It will be over soon.” His whisper against her ear was soft, though the tone of his voice reflected a steely strength that made her lift her head, her eyes meeting his.

It wasn’t fear she glimpsed in his eyes; it was a certainty that if his brothers weren’t dealt with, then he would lose more than he could bear to lose.

He would lose her.

“One way or the other, it will be over soon,” she agreed.

“I won’t let them win, Marty.”

“I know you won’t.” Confidence gleamed in her eyes, and that terrified him.

He’d let Lessa down. How could he bear failing Marty in the same way?

Khalid couldn’t stand the thought of losing her. As he stared down at her he knew that nothing in his life, no other woman, had ever been to him what Marty was becoming.

Strength glittered in her gray eyes, mixed with compassion and a sense of fun. She never took herself too seriously, and she never let him do the same. Yet, at the same time, she understood the danger revolving around her. There was no denial of it. She didn’t fight it. Hell no, she was jumping right in to attempt to solve it.

Staring up at him, Marty saw the emotions shifting through his eyes. Dark, desperate emotions that she wanted nothing more than to ease.

As the song came to an end, Khalid led her back to where her fathers stood.

“We identified our caller.” Joe edged close to them, keeping his voice low. “He’s part of the Saudi ambassador’s entourage.” He nodded to the tall, heavily robed middle-aged Arab speaking to the ambassador. “He received a call two minutes ago. We think he’s preparing to meet with the assassin.”

“Why?” Marty asked, her voice low. “What information could he have?”

Zach shook his head. “That’s what I intend to find out.”

“We’ll leave, as well,” Khalid stated. “Let us know the moment you have anything.”

“The very minute,” Zach agreed, before bending his head to kiss Marty’s forehead gently. “Be careful baby,” he whispered. “Your mother would kill me, and rightfully so, if anything happened to you.”

Saying their good-byes to their host several minutes later, Marty wondered what could have warranted a meeting so quickly.

She didn’t have the answers she needed, and the questions tormented her. There was a new one to add to the list, as well.

What had happened to Lessa, and what had she meant to Khalid? Had he loved her? Had he already lost the woman he felt his heart belonged to, even though she was his brother’s wife? Even though he had been the third rather than the first?

Glancing at Khalid beside her, she took in the quiet expression, the flat, almost unemotional glitter in his eyes. That look had been there since the moment they stepped from the dance floor. “My parents have invited us to lunch next week,” she told him quietly, as the limo drew closer to the estate. “I told them I’d have to be certain your schedule is free.”

She watched his nostrils flare as he breathed in deeply.

“I’m free,” he finally said.

She watched him curiously, wondering at the reserved air she was seeing.

“They’ll be glad to hear that.” She began to shift away from him, the distance she felt around him making her vaguely uncomfortable.

“Where the hell are you going?” Before she had moved more than an inch he was pulling her back to him, then going a step further and lifting her into his lap.

“What are you doing?” Surprise shot through her as she felt his arms suddenly surrounding her, his warm chest against her.

“Do you think I will let go so easily?” There was something definitely dark and dangerous in his expression now.

“I wasn’t aware you owned me.” She wasn’t pretending to be unaware of the fact that he was trying to become totally dominant.

So why the hell was her heart racing as though she were excited, as though a potential confrontation with him were turning her on? And why was she growing so wet?

Khalid stared down at her, feeling things he had never imagined feeling as they rolled through him. Most surprising was the edge of possessiveness. Never had he known an obsession such as the one he knew for this woman.

He had shared her easily. The pleasure, the pure eroticism of each adventure had been more than he had ever known with another woman, at any other time. Yet, seeing her walk from that hall with Shayne, his hand on her back as he stood protectively behind her, Khalid had felt a shaft of possessive lust unlike anything he could have expected.

Shayne didn’t love her. He wanted nothing to do with love or possessiveness. Shayne wanted to stay on the outside looking in, a part of the relationship but never truly committed to it.

“I never stated that I owned you,” he growled, feeling his cock harden to painful tightness as her little ass wiggled against it. “I merely stated that I would not let you go easily.”

“And I’m telling you that if I decide to go, then you’ll have no say in it.” Her voice was sweet, but beneath it he could hear a threat of determination and lust boiling inside her.

“Don’t believe I’ll have no say in it,” he told her, hearing the harshness entering his voice. “I did not begin this relationship with you, Marty, to lose you so easily.”

Her eyes widened. There was definitely lust there. Arousal, he amended. The heat in her gaze held emotion, shades of anger, hunger, and a glimmer of feeling that he had never seen in another woman’s eyes.

Or did he only wish he was seeing that emotion there? When it came to Marty he was never certain of what he felt, or what she was feeling.

“No, you began this relationship because you were under suspicion for treason by my boss,” she shot back.

She was a quick little thing, he thought. But that wasn’t exactly accurate.

“No, I began this relationship with you because staying away from you was no longer an option,” he stated, gripping her hip to hold her in place as she made a move as though to leave his lap.

He liked her exactly where she was, in his arms.

“You act as though I had nothing to do with the decision.” The anger flared in her gray eyes then, and sent a surge of pure lust ripping through his balls. “Excuse me, Mr. Mustafa, but I made the first move, not you. I seduced you, remember?”

“That you did.” Threading his fingers through her hair, he pulled her head back and stared down at her, dying to consume her. “And I’ll be damned if I hadn’t grown tired of pushing you to do so.”

Before she could argue with the statement he took her lips and stole the kiss he needed. His tongue pushed passed her parted lips, stroked against hers, and tasted pure, sweet female a second before he felt her sharp little teeth snap against his tongue.

Jerking back, he stared down at her, eyes narrowed, before he threaded his fingers into the back of her hair, letting the thick, silken strands tumble over his hand. Clenching, he held her still, lowered his head, and nipped her lush, lower lip before flicking his tongue over it gently.

He kissed the pout on her lips and held her head still, and as he stared into her dark, hungry eyes, kissed her again. His tongue flicked over her lips, teased, and stroked until her lips parted again, and her tongue reached out for him.

Hunger was a driving ache in his balls. His cock was engorged, throbbing in such need that he wondered how he bore it. Never had he ached like this, hungered like this.

Turning her, he lay her back on the seat, coming over her with a muted groan that tore from his throat. Kissing her was like bathing in fire, in sweet, white-hot pleasure. His lips took hers again and again, feeling the deepening need as it bloomed inside her, the rush of blood thundering through his body, the heat pouring from her sweet flesh.

Lowering one hand, he raked the heavy taffeta and silk of her dress up her leg, over her thigh. Satiny flesh met the stroke of his hand as her knee bent, her thighs parting beneath his touch as he held her firmly, his lips devouring her.

He could feel the sweet wet heat of her pussy just inches from his fingers. Her juices dampened her panties. The thought of delving into it nearly had him shaking like a young boy.

The feel of her fingers in his hair, tugging at the heavy strands were a pleasure he was certain he had never experienced before. At least, he had never felt such pleasure from it.

Touching her was the most erotic thing he had ever done in his life. Fucking her was nirvana. It was the greatest pleasure in the world.

What made this one woman so different? That thought was barely a presence in his mind as her hips arched to his fingers, which were stroking over the damp panel of her silk panties. A fragile moan passed between them as he felt her melting further beneath him.

“Do you know what you do to me?” He groaned as he tore his lips from hers and stroked them over her jaw. “You make me lose control, Marty. Something I swore I would never do.”

“It’s only fair,” she gasped, as he nipped at her neck. “I swore I’d never let you do the things you do to me, either.”

Such as sharing her. Such as letting him watch her take another man’s cock and seeing the erotic pleasure that suffused her face. His cock hardened more, and he hadn’t thought that possible.

“I give you such pleasure, though,” he said, his hunger amplifying at the thought of it. “Tell me I don’t, precious.”

She couldn’t, he knew she couldn’t.

“Is pleasure enough, Khalid?” Her voice was husky, torn from her as he rubbed at her clit through the silk of her panties.

“With us?” His thumb smoothed over her sweet clit. “Ah, love, the pleasure will never be enough. Because I don’t believe I can ever touch you enough, take you enough. You are my eternal hunger.”

And he was her guilty pleasure, he thought, with an edge of dissatisfaction. She was never certain if what she was doing would harm her tender heart or strengthen it.

“I will always ensure your greatest pleasure,” he promised her, as he lowered his head to rub his lips against hers, knowing they had little time for much else.

He felt her gasp as he rubbed her clit between his fingers, the silk barrier of her panties adding to the friction. She was so responsive, always so ready for his touch.

Looking up, he restrained a curse as the limo pulled into the estate. He didn’t know how much longer he could wait to have her, to sink his cock inside the velvet fist-tight grip of her pussy. The way she took him, milked his flesh, and stroked him to completion was a hunger he couldn’t seem to sate.

Straightening from her, he helped her to slowly sit up, taking his gaze from her only long enough to watch as the front doors opened and the security personnel gave him the go-ahead to exit the vehicle. Abdul opened the limo door.

He trusted the men he had hired-men he knew could not be bought by his brothers, and whose loyalty was tied to him through the club.

“Khalid.” Their commander stepped outside, well armed, his piercing gaze scanning the darkness for threats before turning back to his boss.

“Any problems tonight, Braque?” Khalid asked, as he stepped from the limo. He turned and helped Marty from the car.

“We had some visitors by the north fence.” Braque strode down the steps with one of his men. They flanked him and Marty as they moved to the house. “No one got in, but I wanted to be here myself in case they tried again.”

Hard-eyed killers, that was how many men described Braque’s elite security force. Khalid considered them more of an insurance policy. Better his enemies die than Marty be harmed further.

Braque and his men escorted them into the house. Khalid noticed with a sense of amusement that Marty showed not so much as a shred of recognition where Braque was concerned. He knew the other man had made her several offers to join his security teams. Offers she was actually considering.

“We’ve kept a constant check on your suite as well as the rest of the upstairs rooms,” Braque assured him, as he and Marty moved to the stairs behind one of the other guards. “Will you be going up now?”

“Yes, we’re retiring now,” Khalid assured him. “Should we need to leave my suite, you will be informed.”

Braque nodded. “I took the liberty of having a tray of food sent to your room when you arrived. I know what Anger’s buffets are like.”

“Filled with calories with no staying power,” Marty remarked with a light laugh.

“Exactly.” Braque’s answering grin was filled with amusement.

And he liked keeping his clients alive. The easier it was to keep them to one general area, the better he liked it. Hence the food waiting for them in the suite. It would keep Khalid and Marty from wandering the halls in need of a midnight snack.

While moving up the stairs, Khalid kept his eyes on the men ahead of them. They were spread out, less obtrusive than many bodyguards he’d had over the years, and much better at their job while staying well back.

At first he had been hesitant about accepting Ian’s suggestion that he hire them until this situation had been resolved. Now he was thankful he had. Someone had tried to slip onto the estate the very night that Shayne hadn’t been with them to help secure the house.

Even Abdul had been unaware that Shayne wouldn’t be there until they had left. Whoever his brothers had hired to attack Marty hadn’t worried about facing Khalid as well as two FBI agents. Fortunately for Khalid, no one had known until this evening that Braque and his men were watching the estate.

“When did you hire them?” Marty asked, as they stepped into the suite.

She turned to stare at him as though trying to read past whatever answer he would give her.

“Several days ago,” he informed her. “They’ve been staying out of sight until tonight.”

“You didn’t trust Shayne and me to protect you?” She laid her little purse on the antique table just inside the door.

“I hired them as backup, not protection. Besides, you’re my lover, not my bodyguard,” he answered her. “I had them secure the house when I learned Shayne wasn’t returning with us tonight.”

“I see,” she murmured, moving farther into the room. “So, will they be here permanently?”

“I would imagine they will be. At least for a while,” he told her. “I sleep easier with you in the bed sleeping with me. Neither of us will have to worry about the security of the estate this way.”

Khalid followed her slowly, crowding her closer to the large bed on the other side of the room.

“Do you have a problem with this?” he asked her silkily.

“Would it do me any good to have a problem with it?” A delicate brow arched mockingly.

“We would, of course, discuss it,” he promised, as he shed his evening jacket.

“Oh, I just bet we would.” Eyes narrowed, she watched as he toed his dress shoes from his feet.

“I’m always willing to discuss any problems you might have, dear,” he assured her, as he began to loosen the buttons of his shirt.

“Somehow I doubt it would be an acceptable discussion.” The edge of mockery in her voice had his lips tilting in acknowledgment.

“I would always do my best to accommodate you,” he promised her, as his gaze flicked over the ballgown she still wore. “However you need.”

“And if my needs didn’t include sex at the moment?” Her head tilted as her arms crossed over her breasts. “What if the discussion topic was something that required words rather than actions?”

His brows arched as though in surprise. “I assumed all discussions require words rather than actions. Have the rules changed?”

“Whenever you decide to try to change them,” she shot back.

Khalid almost chuckled. She was a fiery little thing; he loved that about her. He would never manage to get anything over on his Marty; she would always see him for the man he was. Whether or not that was a good thing, he wasn’t certain at the moment.

What he was certain of was the complete hunger raging through him. He needed her. His dick was a fiery throb, his lips ached to kiss her. Like a drug he had been too long without, his entire body was edgy for her.

“You should inform me when you make these decisions,” she told him, as he moved closer to her. “Don’t pretend I know everything that’s going on here. And this decision to hire a mercenary force without my knowledge is bullshit. You should have consulted with me first.”

His nostrils flared. “I do not have to consult with anyone where my protection and the protection of my woman are concerned.”

He watched her expression tighten. Her chin lifted to a stubborn angle, her gaze darkened. He hadn’t thought he could feel hornier, but that look proved him wrong.

“I am fully trained.” She bit out the words, ire punctuating every one. “Have you forgotten that?”

Khalid was treading a very fine line, and he had the sense to know it. Just as he knew that if the ground rules were not established now, then the problems down the road would only amplify.

“While you are in my bed, sleeping in my arms, I am your protection,” he said, as he gripped her waist and pulled her to him. “Hear that, Marty. Know it. You may call the shots at any other time. But during those hours that you are my lover, I will ensure your protection with my life.”

He didn’t give her time to argue. As far as he was concerned, there was no argument. His lips covered the words ready to spill from her, his tongue stroking along the satiny curves before pushing in to tease her tempting little tongue.

“This is no way to win this fight,” she gasped, as he pulled at the skirt of her gown, jerking it up her leg to allow his hand to stroke beneath it.

“This fight has already been won,” he informed her, trying to breathe through the hunger pounding through him. “The unit is here, they are on guard, and, by God, you are in my arms. I win.”

He was certain she would have said more. The woman could argue for hours, he knew. Rather than give her the chance, his hand slid to the wet triangle of silk between her thighs and cupped her firmly.

Instantly, her expression softened, a flinch of pure pleasure shook her body, and Khalid couldn’t hold back the growl that tore from his throat at her response.

“I want to be inside you.” Lowering his head to her ear, he nipped at the lobe as his fingers found the delicate little nub of her clit and rubbed it sensually. “I want to watch my cock sink inside the snug heat of your pussy, Marty. I want that with every breath inside me.”

She was melting in his arms. As he pulled aside the elastic curving around her thigh and slid his hand inside the minuscule material of her panties, he felt her melt against him.

Parting the curl-shrouded folds of flesh, his fingers slid instinctively to the clenched, tight opening he sought.

Marty knew she should fight this. She should demand her independence here and now, because later might well be too late. But, oh God, the pleasure. Her head fell back on her shoulders, her hands gripping his neck as his lips traveled to her shoulder to kiss the sensitive flesh there.

His fingers, broad and heated, the tips calloused and sensually rough, parted her flesh and began to work inside with such sensual pleasure that Marty felt her senses skyrocketing.

Heated dampness spilled from her pussy, spreading along his fingers as he moved them inside her, caressing and rubbing the most sensitive spots with erotic destruction.

It was like setting a match to fuel. Her heart rate thundered as perspiration coated her flesh and her sex became hotter, slicker.

“Ah yeah, sweet baby,” he crooned, the rough, sexual vibrancy in his tone making her womb clench. “I could make you come now. Feel you tighten on my fingers and spill all those sweet juices for me to lick away later.”

She nearly came in that second. What he did to her should be outlawed. It shouldn’t be possible. Her knee bent, her leg lifted along his as she fought for a deeper touch, a harder thrust from those diabolical fingers.

“There, precious, open for me.” Approval thrummed in his voice as he sank deeper inside her, his fingers shafting her slow and easy as she began to shudder from the pleasure.

A distant part of her was aware of him moving her. He lifted her with his spare arm, angling her back as his fingers continued to possess her.

She expected to feel the bed as he stopped. A little surprised gasp left her lips as he lifted her instead, pushed her back along the table behind the sofa, and stepped between her spread thighs.

“God yes,” he said, as he pushed the skirt of her gown to her waist, the taffeta bunching above her thighs as his gaze centered on where his fingers sank inside her.

“Khalid.” She cried his name out, one hand gripping his wrist at the side of the table as her hips arched to one hard, fierce thrust as his thumb raked over her clit.

“So damned beautiful,” he breathed out roughly. “You have no idea, Marty, how beautiful you are to me.”

His fingers stroked, eased, stretched her. Flames surrounded her, white-hot and intense as they burned through her nerve endings, leaving her gasping, shuddering in near painful pleasure.

“Here.” His hand lifted, breaking her hold on him before he gripped her wrist and brought her fingers between her thighs. “Play with your pretty clit for me. Let me watch, baby. Let me see your pretty fingers as you pleasure yourself.”

She had never done that. Never had another watched her masturbate, or aided her in the pleasure as she touched herself. A flush stole over her body, burning her higher as she let her fingers circle the sensitive knot of nerves and she felt his fingers moving inside her.

Her back arched at the first caress against her clit, as he timed the thrust of his fingers inside her. Sensation shot up her spine from her sensitized sex, washing through her body in a blaze of heat.

Her head thrashed against the table, and a long, low moan escaped her lips. It was so good. She stroked her fingers over her clit again, her teeth biting into her lip as his fingers shafted inside her, deep and strong, nearly sending her soaring as they stretched and filled her.

It was exquisite. Pleasure was a steady stroke of intense sensation and breath-stealing vibrancy as it shot through her, then rained over her nerve endings like a shower of heat.

Her senses became dazed, lost in the pleasure as her fingers moved faster over her clit, while his fucked her harder, thrusting inside her pussy with sure, deep strokes. The explosion when it came had her upper body jerking up, her free hand clenching his shoulder as their gazes locked and a wildfire of sensation began to spread through her.

Gasping, crying, Marty shuddered in reaction, shaking with the intensity of the storm inside her as Khalid pulled his fingers back, gripped the thick stalk of his cock, and jerked her to him.

The crest pushed past trembling folds of flesh to burrow into the clenching, tightening entrance of her pussy. His hands locked beneath her rear, lifting her, holding her steady, as he began pushing inside her, his erection stretching her, filling her as it burned along sensitive tissue and stretched her nerve endings.

Her clit, throbbing in orgasm, began to peak and explode in pure unimagined ecstasy. The explosion rocked through her body as she felt his lips at her breasts, his chin pushing aside the snug bodice of her dress to find the hard tip and suck it inside.

“Yes. Please. Oh God. Khalid.” Desperate cries welled from her lips as his hips began to churn, his cock shafting inside her, parting her, burning her. She tightened further around him, her body melting, consumed by the ever-growing wave of pleasure. It was destructive, unending. The pure rapture of his possession of her stole her senses and consumed her mind until she felt herself exploding again, clenching on him, her juices flowing between them as he gave one last, hard thrust. Burying to the hilt, she felt him spurting inside her, his cock throbbing, jerking against the sensitive inner flesh of her pussy and peaking her orgasm higher.

Crying out his name, Marty held on to him, certain that without him she would be lost somewhere between the darkness and the fire consuming her without end.

There had never been anything as intense, as brilliantly hot and consuming as exploding in Khalid’s arms.

As she fought to catch her breath she felt him pull back from her. A muted moan vibrated in his throat as his cock slid free of her, while a shudder raced through her body.

“Come, precious.” His voice was sensually rough, rasping along her senses with a quiet stroke. “We can shower together.”

In the past week she had found that she loved showering with him. He took forever beneath the hot spray, using incredibly soft cloths to clean every inch of her body.

She slid from the table with his help, staring up at him as he released the zipper of her dress and helped it pool at her feet. Leaving her in nothing but heels and stockings, his black gaze flared again with decided male interest.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He sighed as he stripped off the remainder of his clothes. She had no idea how he’d managed to shed his shoes and slacks without her knowing.

Slipping her shoes from her feet, Marty moved slowly away from him, heading to the shower.

“We need to talk,” she said, all too aware of him behind her as he watched her walk.

“Some discussions need to wait until daylight.” Amusement lingered in his voice.

“Not this one.” Turning back to him, Marty watched him as she felt the ache in her heart begin to intensify.

He was the ultimate in male arrogance, dominance, and supreme sexuality. Tall and broad, dark and brooding. He was the epitome of the male sexual animal. Enough so that her womb clenched with a renewal of spiraling, fiery need.

How could she ever let him go? Khalid wasn’t known for his long-enduring affairs. What if she became nothing more than another notch on his bedpost? It was something she needed to be prepared for.

And it could come sooner rather than later if she didn’t have her questions answered. She needed to trust him. She needed to know that no matter how strong was his need to protect her, he would always be honest with her.

Pausing at the bed, she shed her stockings before continuing to the shower. She hated the knowledge that she had to confront him for information; some things he should have volunteered.

If he had been accused of murdering a young woman, then that was information she should know. It was information that could have aided her in the investigation into who was trying to murder him, and why.

And on the heels of that thought: Why hadn’t her fathers told her?