Page 155 of The Tycoon's Affair: Tempted By Desire
With relief Sylvie saw that they were drawing close to the apartment. The traffic at this time of evening was light, and Arkim didn’t live far away. The car pulled to a stop and Arkim got out, his movements jerky. Sylvie didn’t wait. She clambered out, still holding her dress up in one hand. The feeling of contentment she’d had earlier had been well and truly shattered by a rude awakening.
In the apartment she could hear Arkim moving restlessly around the drawing room, the clatter of the drinks tray. He was angry. She wrapped some ice in a towel and brought it in, saying as authoritatively as she could, ‘Sit down—let me look at you.’
He scowled at her. His jacket was off, his bow tie undone. His eye was closed and swelling. He looked thoroughly disreputable, and it only added to his appeal.
He sat down, legs spread, stretching an arm across the back of the couch. Approaching him, Sylvie felt as if she was approaching a bad-tempered lion. But she did it, and then observed, ‘Your eye isn’t bleeding—that’s good.’
‘You’re a nurse now?’
Sylvie pushed down a flare of irritation at Arkim’s snappy mood. ‘No, but I do tend to be the one people come to with minor injuries at work.’
Arkim made aharumphsound. Ofcourseeveryone went to her for treatment at work. He could just imagine her: compassionate, kind, soothing. Yet another unwelcome reminder of how badly he’d misjudged her all along.
He knew he was being a boor, but his gut was still too churned up after the confrontation for him to be sanguine. Sylvie pressed the ice near his eye, and he was aware of her wincing when he sucked in a pained breath.
The words that man had said came back to him:‘She tastes as sweet as she looks, doesn’t she?’
Arkim had had to call on a level of control he’d never used before. And what scared him even now was the instant volcanic jealousy that had swamped him. The tiniest implication that the man had been intimate with Sylvie had been enough to send him into orbit.
He still felt edgy, volatile. Sylvie was kneeling on the couch beside him, the silk of her dress straining across her breasts, outlining their luscious shape. Adrenalin still lingered in Arkim’s blood. He needed to channel it...dilute it somehow. Sylvie shifted and her body swayed closer. His arousal spiked, mixing with the adrenalin, making him crave an antidote to this churning in his gut.
He put down his glass of alcohol and reached out and put his hands around Sylvie’s waist. She took the ice away and looked at him. Her hair was tumbling over her shoulders, a glossy wave of bright red. She looked concerned. Eyes huge with worry. Remorse.
‘Arkim—’
He took the ice pack out of her hands and threw it aside, then pulled her into him, his intent unmistakable.
Sylvie protested, even though he could feel her breath coming faster, moving her chest against his. ‘You’re hurt. We can’t—’
He put a finger on her mouth, then cupped the back of her head. In spite of his need to devour, consume, he found that something happened as he touched her mouth with his. The tension in his body was fading away...and he was touching her as reverently as if she was made of china.
She braced herself with her hands on his chest. Desire rose up, fast and urgent, replacing the need to be reverent, and Arkim fumbled clumsily with his clothes and body, sheathing himself with protection. Sylvie rose above him, pulling her dress up, eyes glazed with lust, cheeks flushed.
Arkim tore Sylvie’s delicate lace panties off and drew the head of his erection up and down her slick folds, tantalising her, torturing himself, until she was slick and hot. Too impatient to wait, she rose up and took him in her hand, then slowly slid down, taking all of him inside her body. It was so exquisite Arkim had to grit his jaw tightly.
They moved with a kind of slow but languorous intent...rocking, sliding...and when the need became too great Arkim held Sylvie’s hips in place and lost himself inside her, burying his head in her breast, feeling her hands on his head, as his soul flew apart and finally he found the oblivion he was looking for.
A couple of hours later Sylvie was lying on her side, naked, her hands under her face, watching Arkim’s chest rise and fall. He’d taken her to bed and made love to her again, and the after-shocks of pleasure still pulsed through her body at intermittent intervals. The intensity of the way he’d taken her on the couch still took her breath away. It was as if he’d been consumed with a kind of fury.
His face was in profile to her, showing the proud line of his nose. From here she couldn’t see his injured eye. Sylvie couldn’t help but feel that in spite of the passion with which Arkim had taken her just now something had altered since that confrontation at the hotel.
A cold weight settled in her belly as an ugly reminder reared its head. She’d been meaning to discuss something with Arkim for the past couple of days and had been avoiding it like a coward. Because she was afraid that it would prove to be some kind of a test. A test of where she really fitted into his life.
As his chest rose and fell evenly she envied him his peace, whenherbody and brain felt as if they were tying themselves into a million knots. Knowing she wouldn’t rest, Sylvie slipped out of bed and got dressed, going into the living room.
She sat cross-legged on the couch and Omar jumped up into her lap. As she petted him absently and looked into the muted darkness she knew that she had no choice but to talk to Arkim. And after what had happened this evening she knew that he would have no hesitation in letting her go. For good, this time.
Dawn was breaking outside when Arkim woke. His head was throbbing and he wondered why—until he lifted a hand and winced when it came into contact with his black eye.
Sylvie.Anger jerked him fully awake in an instant. The memory of those men...eating her up with their eyes. And one of them had touched her. He’d seen it. His hands curled into fists just from thinking about it, remembering, his blood pressure increasing.
No woman had ever roused Arkim to the point of wanting to do violence on her behalf. But he’d been ready to take on all those men. His anger had been volcanic. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long time...since the day that woman had controlled him for her own amusement and his father had thrown him out like unwanted baggage.
Sylvie.Arkim looked around. He was alone in the room...no sounds were coming from the bathroom. He wanted her even now, even after making love to her like some kind of feral youth on the couch earlier. Damn her. Would heevernot want her?
Not wanting to investigate the way his gut clenched at that prospect, Arkim got out of bed and pulled on a pair of sweats, feeling as if he’d done about ten rounds in a boxing ring. He frowned as he padded through the apartment, hearing nothing but silence. Not even Omar.
He checked all the rooms and came to the living room last—and finally he saw her. She was standing with her back to the door, looking out of the window. He noticed that she was dressed in jeans and a shirt. There was something tense about the lines of her body that made him stay where he was.
