Her shriek of his name came in bursts as the convulsions of release ripped through her. Discharge after discharge of pleasure pummeled her, squeezing all of her muscles, inside and out over every part of him, his heat and weight bearing down on her and within her in waves, stimulating her to her limits and beyond.
She raved, begged. “Can’t…can’t…please…you…you…”
And he gave her what she needed. The sight of his face, the feel of him succumbing to the ecstasy she gave him, the pulse of his own climax inside her. They hit her at her peak, had her thrashing, weeping, unable to endure the spike in pleasure. Everything blipped, faded…
Heavy breathing and sluggish heartbeats seemed to echo from the end of a long tunnel as the scent of sex and satisfaction flooded her lungs. Awareness trickled into her body, a mess of tremors so sated she was practically numb. She felt one thing. Shaheen. Still inside her.
She opened lids weighing a ton each, saw him swim in and out of focus. She was on her back on the bed, with him kneeling between her legs, her hips on his thighs, his free palm kneading her breasts, gliding over her shoulders, her arms, her belly.
She watched him watch her, her position the image of wantonness, of surrender and trust, her free arm thrown above her head, her back arched, breasts jutting, legs opened over his hips, his shaft half-buried inside her, stretching her glistening entrance, wrapped around him in the most intimate kiss.
“So how did you like your…reward?”
“You were right…” she slurred at his deepening occupation. “This was…the edge of survival. I felt…my every cell…burst.”
He set his teeth as he rocked another inch inside her. “See why I always insist on taking the edge off?” He rose off the bed, scooped her up with him, his smile all satisfaction and indulgence. “But now that I have, I can really turn to your punishment.”
And for the rest of the night, among a few more rewards, he punished her with escalating inventiveness. And in continued captivity.
Johara jumped when something dropped into her lap.
She looked down and saw the handcuffs at the same moment she felt Shaheen surrounding her.
She’d been so absorbed that she hadn’t felt his approach for the first time ever.
“The best morning in history to you, my crafty Gemma.”
She beamed up at him, opened her mouth for his luxuriant invasion. She’d undone the handcuffs and slipped out of bed two hours ago. She couldn’t bring herself to wake him up, but had been burning to examine the jewels. And she had.
He let her surface from his kiss, slid a loving touch down her cheek. “I see you’ve filled a whole notebook with observations. Can I hope that you have a list for us?”
“No.” She saw dismay gather in his eyes and rushed to deliver the rest of her verdict. “I have better than that. I know exactly who forged these jewels.”
Eleven
“Are you sure about this, ya joharti?”
Johara turned her eyes away from the streets of Geneva zooming by the window of their car. She’d been looking blindly outside since they’d left the airport. Shaheen’s worried gaze had been touching her ever since. Now that he’d voiced his concern, she could no longer look away.
She met his solicitude and again wanted to tell him that she wasn’t sure. And again dismissed the thought as it formed.
She nodded to him, kissed the hand that swept down her cheek. His eyes softened even more before they snapped back to the road.
They’d flown here on his private jet hours after she’d delivered her verdict. Not that he was asking her if she was sure of that. Shaheen, as she became more certain with each passing moment, took everything she said as incontrovertible fact. He had absolute faith not only in her integrity but also in her expertise. He was confident that her deduction of the identity of the forger was incontestable. Equally because he believed she knew her business, and that she wouldn’t accuse someone if she wasn’t certain beyond a shadow of doubt.
She was. Although she’d been tempted to say she wasn’t. Because she felt the moment her role in uncovering the conspiracy was over, her time with Shaheen would be over, too.
Nothing worked to allay that fear. Not even when he said they had time to abort the conspiracy and had forever together. In fact, the more he said that, the more desperate she became. All this bliss couldn’t possibly continue. Not at anything less than a terrible price. One she would be unable to let Shaheen or Zohayd pay.
She’d started counting down her remaining time with him from the moment she’d given him her verdict.
He and Harres and Amjad had at first said they’d handle it. They would besiege the forger with their special influence and force a confession. She’d insisted on being the one to approach him. She believed no coercion would be needed. Shaheen had at once trusted her judgment, supported her decision.
But he sensed her agitation, was worried that she was outside her comfort zone. And she was, if not for the reason he thought.
They stopped at a gated parking lot. The attendant recognized both of them and at once let them into the area reserved for the exclusive establishment’s most elite clientele.
Shaheen stopped the car, turned to her. “Kolloh zain?”
She pulled him to her for a brief, fierce kiss. “Yes, everything’s all right. Let’s do this.”
In moments they were walking hand in hand into the avant garde reception area of the showroom of LaSalle, one of the most celebrated designers of original jewelry in the world.
As more people recognized them, they were given the treatment only a star fashion designer and a billionaire prince could be given. In seconds they were let into the sanctum of Théodore LaSalle, the establishment’s owner and the brand’s namesake.
Dressed in fifties-movie-star elegance, the David Niven look-alike rushed to meet them in the foyer leading to his office, his face split into a wide smile of someone expecting an unrepeatable honor and a transaction worth a year of magnificent sales.
“Doesn’t look as if he suspects why we’re here,” Shaheen muttered under his breath as the man ushered them into his office and rushed to his desk. “Or he’s a superlative actor.”
“What can I offer you, mes cheries?” LaSalle asked, one finger on his intercom. “All refreshments are available.”
“That won’t be necessary, Monsieur LaSalle,” Johara said. “Please, come sit with us. We have something of extreme importance to discuss with you.”