Page 36 of Out of Office Nights
The sight of her sarong caught between his fingers sent fresh waves of unstoppable heat over her skin. Unlike her, he’d changed clothes since their time on the beach, and dear God, the loose white linen trousers and the white T-shirt stretching over his broad shoulders and torso was so mouth-watering she was terrified of drooling.
‘Dinner will be ready in an hour. Come. There’s one more room you haven’t seen yet.’
Clearly the glorious day of doing next to nothing and worrying about even less had mellowed her. Because she set her book down and rose without argument, not even battling her body’s reaction to Teo watching with rapt attention as she wrapped the sarong around her hips.
The flicker of heat in his gaze made her breath catch. Made her intensely aware of the forbidden attraction consuming her whole as she followed him out of the room and across salons, through hallways and into the last room on the other side of villa attached to the far terrace.
Every room so far had been a delight. This was one reserved for the full exploration of one’s senses. She pondered if it was why he’d saved it for last, when she was the most relaxed she’d been in years.
On one side were jaw-dropping works of art steeped in Moroccan heritage. Contemporary paintings by Benecerraf, scenic landscapes by R’bati, abstracts by Abecassis. Plushsofas, Berber rugs and wide floor cushions were strewn about, arranged to face the wall and pay homage to the artwork.
She drifted towards the display, but Teo brushed his fingers over her hand, redirecting her attention to the other side of the room.
It smelled of expensive cigars and ashes from a hookah. The walls were a darker mottled clay, and on the farthest side a long bar made entirely of distressed copper hammered into place with large rivets displayed dozens of colourful liquors.
Like the wall of art, this side of the room was equally eye-catching, enough to pull her in for a closer examination. Sliding behind the bar, she ran her fingers over the cool surface, studiously avoiding the sexily tousled prince who’d sprawled out on the long coffee velvet sofa facing the bar, with his bare arms flung wide to rest on the back of the seat.
His bronzed perfection was wreaking havoc on her senses, and she intended to keep a level head for as long as she could stand it. Then when she couldn’t, she would simply leave.
‘This estate isn’t familiar to me. Which means it’s new.’ His gaze stalked her as she walked her fingers down the bar. ‘Usually, individuals who think they’re important and special gravitate to the more prestigious enclave ten minutes from here.’
‘Is there a question in there,tesoro?’
She bit her cheek to stop herself from telling him not to call her that. It was clear he didn’t intend to heed her. Plus, the endearment, however carelessly flung, was growing on her.
Still avoiding his gaze, she stopped to examine the copper sculpture at the end of the bar. ‘Why did you choose this villa?’
‘Because it was closer to you,’ he said with brutal simplicity.
Her eyes flew to his. His molten gaze dared her to challenge that. To put a slant on it that wasn’t savagely conscripted by him.
‘Teo…’ She wasn’t exactly sure what to say, what shecouldsay without betraying the maelstrom of emotions rampaging through her.
‘Make me something,’ he drawled, with the kind of assurance that said he expected his wish to be fulfilled.
And since Sabeen couldn’t find it in her heart to challenge that assumption, especially because he’d gone out of his way to ensure she was fed noon and night for the past four days, she shrugged.
When she managed to tear her gaze from his, a quick glance showed the ever-present mint tea in a carafe set beneath the wall of liquor. The remaining ingredients were easy enough to locate. And despite her senses still churning all over the place, she strode over five minutes later with two glasses of Marrakesh Mule and handed his over.
He rose to accept his and sipped it while staring at her. Then gave that lopsided half smile. ‘Excelente…gracias.’
His hand brushed hers again, directing her to the sectional sofa directly opposite the art wall. ‘What do you know about these artists?’
She shrugged. ‘Not very much. All I know is what I’ve seen of them in art shows and museums. I do know they’re exceptional. And these are…exquisite.’
‘Indeed.’ He sipped his drink again then pointed to two of the paintings. ‘What you may not know is that those two went through periods of personal strife and public excoriation—and came out the other side stronger than ever.’
In other words, whatshewas going through. Before she could allow herself to be touched, he was pointing to another two. ‘Those two, however, crashed and burned after a single burst of illumination.One-hit wonder, I believe, is the term?’
She stared at him long and hard. ‘You want me to decide which of those two camps I want to belong to?’
His eyes drifted down her face, trailing warm caresses along the way. ‘I’mcertain to which you belong. What you need to decide is if you want to fight for now or fight for life.’
She blinked, the movement curiously slow as the tumult of emotions distilled into one powerful sensation: desire. For the electric promise in his voice. For the heady belief that she had what it took to reclaim her power.
Teo Domene was a master beguiler, each word and deed projecting impossible dreams and cravings that tempted her closer to a flame she accepted she couldn’t live without. Curiously more so now that he’d admitted that her success ultimately played into his own ends.
‘You can reclaim the woman yourjidawas once proud of,’ he murmured, eyes still boring deep. Seeing straight to the heart of her.
