LITMIR.BIZ

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      * * *

      Oh, he was good.

      Her pulse went mad under the brush of his lips and she had to concentrate to draw a breath.

      “I told myself I was only coming out to prove to you I wasn’t worth the trouble.”

      “To scare me off? I don’t scare.”

      I do, she wanted to say. She wanted to go to his room so badly it terrified her. And she didn’t understand why this want sat like a hook in the middle of her chest, pulling her toward him with a painful sting behind her breastbone. She didn’t know how to handle any of this because she wasn’t the bold, confident one.

      What would Trella do?

      It was a habitual thought, one that harked way back to her earliest years when her sister had been the one to stride eagerly forward while Angelique hung back.

      She brushed aside thoughts of Trella. She shared almost everything with her twin, but not this. Not him.

      That was what scared her. Who was she if not Trella’s other half?

      An internal tearing sensation made her touch her chest. She immediately felt the beading on her dress and wondered why she had worn Trella’s creation. Armor, she supposed, but this wasn’t about Trella. That was what made this situation so starkly unique and put her at such a loss.

      In this moment she was only Angelique. Except she didn’t know what Angelique would do in a situation like this. Her other lovers had wanted one of The Sauveterre Twins and the fame or influence or bragging rights that came with it. She had gone with them hoping for a feeling of fulfillment, but had never found it.

      Kasim wanted her. That’s what made him so irresistible.

      And she had a feeling this would be more than fulfilling. Profound. Maybe life-altering.

      Which was terrifying in its own way, seeing as it was only for one night, but if she refused him out of fear, she knew she would regret it for the rest of her life.

      * * *

      The lights were set low in the opulent suite. Champagne chilled in a bucket next to an intimately set table overlooking the Eiffel Tower. The muted notes of a French jazz trio coated the air with a sexy moan of a saxophone, subtle bass strings and a brush on a drum.

      Angelique was walking into a setup and wasn’t even sure how she had arrived here. It felt like she had floated. There had been a conversation with Maurice, who had escorted them down the hall. She had instructed him to go back and finish his own meal and put theirs on hold. Charles, her second guard, stood post at the door of the suite. He had assured her as she entered that he had inspected and secured these rooms prior to her arriving at the restaurant and had been at this door ever since.

      They were very mundane details that were decidedly unromantic, but they had each been one of the many tiny steps that had carried her toward this moment.

      “I am fascinated with this dress,” Kasim said, picking up her hand and carrying it over her head, urging her to twirl very slowly before him. “It is a work of art. I’m afraid to touch it.” He lowered her hand, but kept it in his, so they were facing one another. “But I want to touch you.”

      His words made her heart stutter. She tugged free of his grip and walked to an end table where she set down her pocketbook.

      “I’m not used to being touched.”

      “I’m not going to chase you through these rooms, Angelique. If you’ve changed your mind, say so.”

      She turned to face him. “I haven’t. I’m just nervous.”

      “Don’t be. I won’t rush you.”

      He didn’t have to. She was rushing herself, not ignoring misgivings so much as refusing to give in to the natural hesitation that had held her back one way or another most of her life. If her sister hadn’t pressed her toward this fashion house idea, she never would have had the nerve.

      So part of her was saying, Don’t be impulsive. But the truth was, this moment had been brewing since their kiss this afternoon.

      This was why she had come to dinner with him. She was a person of deep feeling and what he made her feel was too strong to resist. She had never felt so much like herself as she did with this man.

      But she wanted to be herself. She wanted him to want Angelique.

      She lowered the zip on the back of her dress, slowly drawing the shoulders down her arms and very carefully stepping out of it without letting the skirt brush the floor.

      Kasim’s inhale was audible over the quiet music, sounding as a long, sharp hiss.

      “You, however…” he said in a rasp. “Seem in a big hurry.”

      “You said you were afraid to touch it.” Avoiding looking at him, she took great care with folding the dress in half lengthwise, then gently set it on the arm of the wingback chair.

      She was naked except for her high silver shoes and a pair of lavender cheekies that cut a wide swath of lace across her hips and the top half of her buttocks. She had done enough quick changes backstage alongside half-naked models that she wasn’t particularly self-conscious.

      Nevertheless, it was intimidating to turn and face him. At the same time, it was a rebirth of sorts, standing there naked and vulnerable. Tears flew into her eyes at the significance of shedding the shield of her sister and being only Angelique.

      Would he like her?

      “What’s this?” Kasim murmured, coming forward to cup her face and make her meet his gaze with her wet one.

      “I don’t often let myself be.” Life was far easier when she kept her thoughts on the future or her sister or a piece of fabric. Allowing the moment to coalesce around her, so she experienced the full spectrum of emotions he provoked—impatience and sexual yearning, uncertainty and deep attraction—it was huge and scary.

      She smoothed her hand down the lapel of his suit jacket, then warily looked up at him, fearful of what she might find in his gaze.

      What she saw made the ground fall away beneath her feet.

      His eyes were hungry and fierce, but there was something tender there, too.

      “I’ll take care of you,” he promised in a low growl, then dipped his head to kiss her.

      She started slightly as his arms went around her and a jolt of such acute pleasure went through her it was almost like a shock of electricity.

      He paused briefly, gentled his kiss. Then, as she pressed into him, encouraging him to continue, he deepened it, sweet yet powerful, making her knees weaken.

      They quietly consumed one another. She speared her fingers into his hair and met his tongue with her own and let herself flow wholly into the kiss.

      Releasing a jagged noise, he pulled away and threw off his jacket. Yanked at the buttons on his shirt. “Damn you for being so far ahead of me. You do this.”

      He left his shirt open but tucked in and set his hands on her bare waist, capturing her lips with his as he ran his hands around to her lower back, making her shiver then melt as he molded her closer. They were chest to chest, hot dry skin to hot hairy chest.

      A sob of broken pleasure escaped her. More. She needed more of him, and pushed at his shirt, smoothing her hands over the powerful shape of his shoulders. With a brief pull back, she yanked his shirt free of his pants, then they were embracing again, her hands free to steal beneath the hanging tails of his shirt to caress the warmth of his flexing back.

      Skin. Lips. A cold belt buckle against her bare stomach and a hard shape behind his fly that made her both nervous and excited. She had never abandoned herself to desire, had never allowed herself to be so vulnerable, but she didn’t have a choice. Time stopped. All she knew was the feel of him stroking her skin, pressing her closer, fondling her breast then looking at where

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